Volume: 2

Sarby's Epilog

Just a footnote.

Writing about Finn sailing now, I'm closer to seventy than sixty yet I own my sixth Finn and sail it in one of the world's windiest venues. I pick my days trying not to sail in wind over twenty knots. Sometimes the wind sneaks up with a vengeance changing my return to the dock into survival mode.

After a couple of decades of windsurfing, I find myself victim to the rhythm and beauty of the Finn. It is no longer about speed. I take my phone to track my path and wrapped in plastic, my Medicare card.

There was an episode I recall now that wasn't in any of my notes that exemplifies the difference between the true athletes that worked toward the Olympic berth and me, just someone who liked floating.

During the starting sequence for one of the windier races of the Trials, someone more hapless than me got all knotted up and capsized right in the prime starting area within two minutes of the start. This cascaded into significant chaos. The Winner, seeing the problem and the solution, tipped his own boat over and swam over to the afflicted, climbed onto his boat, righted it, assisted the afflicted in climbing in, swam back to his boat, righted it, climbed in, started perfectly and won the race.

He later said, "Well, he was in the way. That was the fastest way to get him out of the way."