THE VIRGINIAN-PILOT
Copyright (c) 1994, Landmark Communications, Inc.
DATE: Sunday, July 10, 1994 TAG: 9407070093
SECTION: DAILY BREAK PAGE: E1 EDITION: FINAL
SERIES: THE WATER LOG
SOURCE: BY CRAIG A. SHAPIRO, STAFF WRITER
LENGTH: Long : 176 lines
BEGINNER DINGHY Sailing at Old Dominion University teaches a lot of things: rigging the boat, tacking and jibing, proper docking.
It doesn't include a chapter specifically titled, ``How to Capsize.''
Mitch Brindley, the tanned, Joe Thiesmann lookalike who ran the three-week class, figures that at some point everyone will learn that dubious skill on their own.
Call me a quick learner.
The first evening out, not 20 feet from the ramp, in calm winds, I spilled our 13-foot Collegiate Flying Junior into the drink. Subsequent experience, earned on four other nights on the water, tells me what went wrong.
I butterfingered the tiller.
Here's how it should go: While the boat is turning into the wind and you're moving under the boom, you switch hands with the tiller and sheet behind your back, making sure to keep the tiller in the tacking position. As you sit down on the other side of the boat, you straighten it out.
One smooth motion.
Right over onto our starboard side.
Righting the boat is done in one smooth motion, too. Reach across the centerboard, grab it with both hands and l-e-e-a-n, scooping up the crew at the same time.
That unplanned lesson was the most valuable of the course. There was little risk; the Elizabeth River is kind of squishy and warm off the ODU Sailing Center, but barely deep enough to hold Davy Jones' footlocker. And getting my feet wet achieved two things: I stopped humming the theme to ``Gilligan's Island'' and it put a quick end to a lot of high anxiety.
Annette Simons, the Norfolk CPA who had the misfortune to be working the jib when we went in, had a good laugh. So did I. We got back on board and sailed off on a broad reach. Simple.
All in keeping with the three goals Mitch laid out the first night:
Be safe
Have fun
Learn to sail
Old Dominion University has been teaching beginning and intermediate sailors at its Sailing Center on the Elizabeth River since the 1950s. The program is run today by K.C. Fullmer, the school's sailing coach and its first student to be named All-American.
Brindley, the assistant coach, took the Monarch sloop team to a national championship two years ago, and still sails in national and international competitions. The last night of class, he left early for a race in Detroit.
No prob. Heidi Thoma took over. She's a two-time ODU All-American.
Steady those sea legs, these folks know what they're doing.
Classes meet twice weekly for three weeks at the center, a cavernous building housing a flotilla of CFJs and smaller, single-sail Lasers. It's the only facility in the country where fully rigged boats can be stored indoors, saving a lot of wear and tear, Mitch said.
The first night was spent getting to know each other - Randy, the Chesapeake firefighter; Dave, director of the school's Canterbury Center, who was taking the class with his son; Bonnie, mother of two sons nearly the same age as mine - 10 people in all with as many reasons for signing up.
Mitch talked about the course (it was developed by the U.S. Sailing Association and the American Red Cross), taught us a few knots, ran through the parts of the boat and gave a pep talk. Sailing, he said, is not like learning to play tennis, where there are no variables. Change is constant, and that's what makes it challenging.
His enthusiasm was catching.
He also said something that was news to me: A boat isn't pushed by the wind; instead, it moves like a bird or airplane. As the wind passes on both sides of the sail, the boat is lifted and pulled. The sail's angle determines whether you're on a close haul, broad reach or any of the other points of sail.
Anyway, that first class, held indoors, was the exception. Like Mitch said, the only way to learn is by doing. The next time, we hit the water. Some of us, literally.
It's a blast.
The CFJ's size is one of its advantages. It doesn't take much breeze to get going at a decent clip, and while larger boats are more forgiving, these dinghies let you know right off if the sails aren't trimmed or you're leaning on the tiller. You get a real feel for the boat.
Not that this was America's Cup training. We spent the first three nights on calm waters sailing across a gentle, steady wind, doing figure eights between two markers then tacking around each.
And not that it's as easy as it sounds. You constantly work the main sheet to keep the sails full. You keep sliding forward so you have room to work the tiller. And you stay mindful of the wind. When it shifts, you adjust.
The hardest thing, though, is making yourself relax - and look ahead - while you're doing all this. The tendency is to squeeze the tiller, to focus on everything else. The mainsail. The jib. The crew. Mitch put it in perspective when he likened it to driving: You don't watch the steering wheel.
I confess. By the fourth night out, I was feeling cocky. So maybe it was a good thing the wind was skittish and that we launched in high tide. Bonnie and I took the last boat out, and Mitch, who stayed behind to make sure everyone got off while Heidi set the markers, rode with us. Another good thing.
Several times a puff of wind had the boat keeling; to counter that, Mitch got us to hang our butts over the gunwale and lean out. It's not your first inclination. Meantime, we were supposed to be learning a new maneuver - jibing, turning away from the wind - as we sailed a triangular course. I'm still not sure how we did, though Mitch insists it was fine.
But I am sure about the final night. Annette and I teamed up for the third time, and even though the winds were almost too calm, we navigated the same triangular course. At the end of class, Heidi had us racing against each other like real sailors.
Which we were.
Don't get me wrong. I'm not ready to sail off in deep water; calm winds and low tide are more to my liking. But I know the rules of the road and I can tie a bowline, cleat hitch, square knot and figure eight. I know more about the points of sail and the parts of a boat and how to keep it moving than I ever thought I would. I could go out there right now and rig one.
I will, too. Mitch is letting us use the boats for recreational sailing this summer. Some of us new salts have swapped phone numbers so we can get together.
And whenever I'm outside, I'm mindful of the wind - its velocity and direction, and feeling pretty good when I realize being on the water would be a piece of cake.
That counts for something. ILLUSTRATION: Color photos
PAUL AIKEN/Staff
Annette Simons stands on the centerboard to try to right her
capsized sailboat during her lessons at ODU.
Boats await the start of sailing lessons on the Elizabeth River.
Instructor Mitch Brindley leads two novice sailors through some
tacks from his motor boat.
Novice sailers[sic] Susanne Friedli and Greg Walden go through the
paces at the ODU sailing program.
Photo
PAUL AIKEN/Staff
Sailing instructor Mitch Brindley gives students some tips in the
classroom before leading them out onto the water.
Graphics
WHERE TO LEARN
Beginner and intermediate sailing classes for adults are offered
in June and July at the Old Dominion University Sailing Center, just
off Powhattan Avenue near 49th Street.
Classes are held twice weekly for three weeks from 6 to 8:30
p.m.; a third class meets twice weekly for two weeks from 9 a.m. to
1 p.m.
Beginner classes ($105) won't be held again until next year; an
intermediate class ($90) is set for July 19-28. It meets Tuesday and
Thursday from 6 to 8:30 p.m.
Youth camps are also held for students ages 10-16.
For more information, call the ODU Sailing Center at 683-3387
ABOUT THIS SERIES
THE RESPONSE was standard:
Are you having a midlife crisis?
You mean this is your job?
But the idea for this series was legitimate, if obvious: Water is
not just something we drive over and under on the way to work. It
defines Hampton Roads. Sets us apart. But how many people get out
there and enjoy it? I've lived here 13 years and can count the times
I've been to the beach each summer on both hands.
I wanted to find out, and then share. So, yeah. This is my job.
In less than a month, I learned to sail, took surfing and kayaking
lessons, got up on water skis and rode a jet ski for the first time.
My endless summer took me to the ocean, lakes, inlets and rivers
that are Hampton Roads.
About that midlife crisis. I'll answer that once my sunburn goes
away and the legs and back stop aching.
- Craig Shapiro
by CNB