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Windsurfing
with
Lord
Nelson
The Bocche di
Bonifacio were called by the Romans Fossa
Fretum, and by the Greeks Tappros,
a
trench,
from
their
dividing
the islands of Corsica and
Sardinia like a ditch or dyke. These straits are considered dangerous
by navigators, from the violence of the squalls gushing suddenly from
the mountains and causing strong currents, especially during the
prevalence of winds from the north-west during nine months of the year.
Lord Nelson describes them during one of these squalls as “looking
tremendous, from the number of rocks and the heavy seas breaking over
them.” In another letter he says, “We worked the ‘Victory’ every foot
of the way from Asinara to this anchorage, [off La Madelena] [sic]
blowing hard from Longo Sardo, under double-reefed topsails.” The
difficulties of the Bonifacio passage can hardly be understood by a
landsman who has not visited the straits, but they are stated to have
been so great, “and the ships to have passed in so extraordinary a
manner, that their captains could only consider it as a providential
interposition in favour of the great officer who commanded them.”
—from Rambles in the Islands of Corsica and
Sardinia with Notices of
their History, Antiquities, and Present Condition by Thomas
Forester,
pub. Longman, Brown, Green, Longmans, and Roberts. London. 1858.
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This comes to
me from a friend, John Booth.
I was
on a sports
vacation with Gaby and
friends about 29 years ago. I remember the time, as Esther was just
about a year old
then), and we stayed at a resort at the northern tip of the island. I
got my first
taste of wind surfing there.
I was doing pretty good (at least, that was my impression of things),
and learned to stay on the board, and get the sail to stay in the wind
most of the time.
One day, I decided to do things on my own. I had just finished about 4
days of instruction,
so I was feeling pretty confident), and I tacked the wind back and
forth, back and
forth. I didn't pick up on it right away, but Sardinia was getting
gradually smaller and
smaller. Seems I missed the lesson on putting your sail perpendicular
to the wind and letting
your board get pushed back to the islandinstead of tacking back and
forth, back and
forth and away from land.
Well, after a while, I was pooped, and just sat on the board for a
while. People would wave now and then, and I would wave back (nobody
told me you had to
wave using both arms, by crossing your arms in an x-form to let them
know you needed
assistance.
Anyway, all of a sudden, here comes this unbelievably athletic-looking
guy in a neoprene suit with purple and yellow stripes—which
matched his purple and
yellow-striped sail and P&Y striped board like that silver Greek
god what's his name
on silver in-line skates. I mean "Zooop!"
there he was. "Hi there!
Saw you might be having some
problem. Lemme see." And with that having been said, he found the
problem. Seems my
sail was too slack (actually, that was the condition of my body and
brain; my nerves were
gone by this point too.) With simple hand movements he tightened up my
sail "Wonnnnnng!"
the lines went, like taut violin strings when you just looked at the
sail; he was
happy, and then saying "Cheers!" he zipped back into the watery
netherworld of wherever he
came from. Well, that just did the trick. Really. Now, when I raised my
board's
sail, just the slightest whiff of wind crashed me back into the water.
Some help.
After about another half an hour of sitting on my board (ever
wonder if sharks nibble on toes?) this guy comes by again and lets me
know he's sent for
help. Then he zips away again. (Don't embarrass me by asking where he
went; I don't
even know where he came from).
Help came in the form of my friends sailing to me on a catamaran. The
Man Wonder was riding with them, pulled me up with one arm onto the
catamaran, and
took my board, tightened up its rigging again ("Wonnnnnng! Winnnnnng!)
and sailed away
in one direction, while we sailed in another.
Now, you might think I felt relieved; after all, my toes had been
saved. But, lying flat on the net that functioned as a form of platform
between the cat's two
pontoons, I noticed how fast the water was rushing by. Then the cat
started tilting
a bit more on one side and picked up speed. Yes, jumping into the fire
from the frying pan is a remarkable
experience.
Anyway, that evening Mr Hero was in the same restaurant, and I bought a
round for the group and shook his hand. I was very grateful, and the
redness of my
face was not entirely due the weather conditions. Seems the guy was the
European sales rep for some wind-surfing
equipment company.
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