Ride of the Valkyries

Notch one more up in the "experiences I'll never forget".

After many years of watching helicopters swish up and down the bay, and of course living with them clattering overhead doing their resupplies when on boats in Antarctica, I'd often said "that must be an incredible thing to do."

And now I can say it is.

Fathers day 2010, someone must have raided an awfully large piggy-bank, cos my present was not just a ride in one, but an actual one-on-one with an instructor and a go at the controls. Suffice to say, it now makes driving a (manual) car seem a doddle.

The initial briefing last about 25 minutes, after which I was so confused by "cyclics" (the joystick between your legs which can make you dive or bank and turn), "collectives" (the 'handbrake-like thing' that you lift to change the pitch of the blades and go up, as well as twist to increase revs - though you generally keep this quite steady), and "anti-torque pedals" (that control the rudder so you can turn from side to side) that I clean forgot the instructors name (Cathy. Sorry.)

I hoped this wouldn't be a problem.

After buckling up and headsets on, about a zillion switches were flicked and the thing burst into life. The thing being a Schweizer 300 CBi , a neat little sports coupe' two seater. 
Hence I was somewhat surprised it sounded like a truck. And didn't have a Ride of the Valkyries soundtrack.


Cathy called the tower and we were off.


Straight towards a flock of seagulls.


This, apparently, is a hazard, so we crept up on them until they'd all been scared off and not been sliced and diced, bamix style. Birds dispatched, we headed east, climbing up to 1000ft and heading off over Breaside park and the green wedge between Dandenong South and Chelsea Heights.  


Just as we did, Cathy said... 
"Ok, we're level - you take the cyclic".


After remembering what the cyclic was (the big stick between my legs; no jokes please), I had it in hand. Or rather, perched delicately in my fingers, as this thing is sensitive (no jokes, please) and really only requires finger pressure to get a response (oh come on...). 


"I'm in control" I said.


And I was. Even though my taking control coincided with us bouncing up and down a little as we passed under a cloud, and hence for a moment I wondered what in the wide wide world of sports I'd done. To god. Or Stephen Hawking. Or whoever is in charge these days.


I thought I was vaguely flying straight and level, judging by me lining up the horizon with the compass glued to the windscreen (hey, that's what you're told to do), though apparently I was climbing. Which I only realised when Cathy pointed out the altimeter heading north. 


Levelled it out; only levelling it out (i.e., dropping the nose) felt like you pitching yourself into a kamikaze dive - it took a little getting used to - and we were off again.


"Ok, you're doing great. Now, take over the collective".

(Quick thought - collective is the handbrake thing.)


"I have control" I replied.


Now there wasn't a lot to do here, as this is basically set and forget for level flight (i.e, you don't lift or drop the handle, just leave it at about 30degrees), though occasionally I'd twist the throttle a little as the revs dropped slightly.


We did a bit of a bank and headed a little more south, then over the intercom comes "Ok, take over the pedals."


Even I could work out what that meant.


Unlike a car, you have two pedals that if you push one in, the other pushes out. Also unlike a car you have a little dial that's a bit like a spirit level, and hence I was constantly checking that and if "the ball is left, push down left" to keep us going straight. 


I was in control.


At first I must admit this was quite daunting, as cars were like ants below us, and only an hour before I didn't know a collective from a noun, and here I was in an inherently unstable physics-defying single engined coupe' tottering across the sky. 
At 75 knots. 


"Do a circuit around here" Cathy suggested, somewhere over Western Port Hwy/Thompsons Rd/Sandhurst . A gentle push on my thumb (i.e., towards the right on the cyclic) and we started banking over and turning. Around we went, no problems. Lots of ant cars below, amazing views of Western Port, the Dandenongs, Port Phillip and... rain clouds. 


"MMmmm... we might get a bit wet" mumbled Cathy. 


After the circuit we aimed our nose at the bay - or rather, 1000ft above the bay - and headed west, crossing the coast somewhere between Seaford and Carrum, with the dirty gunk of a flooding Patterson River just to our north.


"I'll take over for a tick" said Cathy, and I wasn't one to argue with the boss. Though she did kindly say "You're doing great - you haven't scared me."
{brief pause} 
"Yet."


We banked over and dropped down to 700ft as we crossed the river heading north, while Cathy spoke to the tower at Moorabbin letting them know we'd entered into their space again. (Apparently Patterson River is some sort of contact/way point.)


"Ok, follow the coast at 700ft" she said.


"I'm in control" I replied.


And up the coast we flew, scaring the dogs/dog walkers on the beach and marvelling at having a seagulls eye view of the bay. We'd soon whisked over Gnotuk Avenue carpark and I was looking out for houses of people we knew (errr... while being conscious of the controls of course) and noticing we were headed for aforementioned big rain cloud.


"I'll take over" said the boss, and with that we banked inland and lined up Moorabbin Airport (which is actually in Mentone; if it was really in Moorabbin I'd have asked her to set me down in my backyard, being that not too long ago Hampton East was known as Moorabbin West). 


Though when I say lined up, I mean "took a stab in the grey where it was", cos by now we were in the rain and you could see bugger all. And like a good little two seater coupe', it started to drip inside, just missing my leg. (An inch to the right and it would have left a wet patch on my pants somewhat difficult to explain...)


I just looked out for the lights of all the other planes trying to land at the airport in the grey, cos I could hear the control tower talking to them out there in the gloom, somewhere... hunting us...


Then there it was, the little H for us to land on, only rather than land on the H, we swivelled in place about 3 ft off the ground, and inched forward until we were about 10m from the hangar.


"Beats pushing it all the way in in the rain" said the boss. 


A quick debrief as we sat and idled the engine to let things cool down (fixed wing planes do this as they taxi...) and we were done.


Click clack, off with the belts, fumble with the door release, get my foot caught on the cyclic, and...
35 minutes after takeoff, Terra Firma once more.


What a goddamn amazing fathers day hoot.


(Only made better by an excited little boy yelling "Daddy" as I walked in the hangar.) 

2010 NP X6 Boom - my 2c.

Ok, lets face it...

The old X6 Neil Pryde boom broke bits more often than a Melbourne train in a summer heatwave. (For those from out-of-town, that's a lot.)

Whether it was too much cost cutting, a lack of attention to detail, or all of the above, bits just simply fell off 'em all too often.

It was for this reason that I was about to chuck mine in the crusher and start again, cos I'd had a ($600) gutful. (Must be said, Pryde did supply free new bits without hesitation...)

Till i spoke to Paul @ SHQ.

"Try the '010 version" he insisted. "Its all new - you'll love it. Trust me..." {imagine a glint of pearly white light off his teeth/bald head.}

There and then he (and Mr Pryde) swapped over my old X6 for a brand spanker 2010 140-190cm jobbie, no questions asked. (Now that's service!)

And its all new.
And I love it.

I've sailed the '010 X6 for a few months now, in everything from big Bay waves to flat water Sandy Point blasting. Its been jumped, gybed, crashed, smeared and, due to the wonders of climate change, cooked in my shed before summer even arrived. Hence surely time for a review.

First things first. The shape is different. Stand 'em side by side and you'll immediately notice that the new boom has way more S-bend in the arms than the old one (see above pic; 2010 X6 lying ontop of a 2008 - with any luck they're breeding me a 2011 right now). I gather that having that bigger curve nearer the front is kinda like the physics of an egg; the tighter bend actually gives the thing strength. (Go on, tap on the tighter-bend end of an egg. Doesn't break as easily as whacking its bum does it?) I reckon it works.

The grip is good and arguably feels slightly narrower, even if the stats say it shouldn't be much difference. On the downside, I don't know if its the new grip, but even though my hands feel super secure and there's never a problem grabbing back on in a duck gybe, my goddamn harness lines seem impossible to stop sliding. Maybe I just need some decent lines - adjustable ones (that I never adjust) are the jack of all trades/master of none, and should be drowned at birth.

Speaking of feel, the new X6 also feels lighter, both on the beach and more importantly, out sailing. As I often say with good sailing kit, it's when you don't notice it that you know its doing a great job. And in a gybe, I'm not noticing this boom. (Well, cept the time a Sandy Point end-of-speed-strip duck duck gybe went horribly wrong; boom clipped the water and I was ejected forward at something akin to the speed of sound; or was that sonic boom just the sound of my back whacking the water?)

The boom head certainly looks a lot different. Still the same general clamping action as before but clearly made of different stuff in a different shape and with lots more air/less plastic. Not that the lighter weight design means its less efficient - you can certainly put a lot of force on it when closing around a mast. In fact I'd say be careful, cos I have indeed heard the odd "geez dude you're hurting me" whinge from the carbon fibre as the clamping gave way to crushing, at which point I've loosened things off in self preservation.
What this means, of course, is that you're unlikely to have the thing slip when used in anger - not that that ever happened with the old X6 - plus good to know when you're trying to clamp on extra hard to unstick a mast using the old two boom trick.

Finally, and what everyone really wants to know: AB - how stiff is it??

Well we're not quite into the "schoolboy's first read of Penthouse" stiffness category here, but I'd still rate it above "Sports Illustrated Elle McPherson issue" at the very least, and well above the "National Geographic Tahitian Special" of most alumimium jobbies.

And that's bloody good for a non full-carbon boom.

The new-alloy S-bend arms are clearly stiffer than the old model even at maximum extension, and that's definitely saying something; the one piece front and back ends certainly do their job. The carbon extensions also slide more easily into the arms of the boom than ever before, even after a run in the ludicrously fine Sandy Point sand. (Hey, they don't call it Sandy for nothing.) If they can still be smooth after that, they'll be smooth after anything. The clips are also strong, firm, and appear to be made of something different than before. Or at least they're white.

And thank Ford for that.

I've used them dozens of times now and they haven't broken, which would have been a canonising miracle for the old X6. This is despite them having the seams down all the old places, which was clearly a weak point. Still, the new plastics appear to be making up for the old design, cross fingers. Likewise the tail piece is still from the previous mould, where the seam goes straight through the hey diddle diddle of the rivet, a.k.a, through the highest stress point.

Which brings us to the rivet itself; mines already showing signs of rust (see pic). How much does a full galv/stainless rivet cost? Come on Neil - splurge on a freakin' rivet dude; you're killing me.

All up?
I like it.

Its stiff.
Its firm.
Its comfy.
Its barely noticeable.
Its held together in original form so far and that's so good.

The 2010 X6 140-190cm boom

Overall rating: 8 "woohoo's!" out of 10.
Likes: Stiff, light, strong, forgettable; all the good stuff for a boom
Dislikes: The rusty rivet (Neil Pryde's personal fault). The slidy harness lines (Maybe my fault). Some decals falling off already.
Summary: In the words of Dr Suess "Green Eggs and Ham", surely in at least partial reference to NP X6 booms:

"You do not like them.
So you say.
Try them! Try them!
And you may.
Try them and you may, I say."

Right on Doc.

Does it get any better????

Does it get any better than this (on flat water) umpire??

Dead flat water.

Inlet all to yourself.

(Well 'cept for a couple of mates.)

Sunshine.

Steady 20knots WSW.

(Ok, it could have been a little more southerly, but who's going to complain...)

30 knots of speed.

A board that levitates (see the last photo..).

Oh, and a beautiful wife who offers you a sandwich at the end of it all.

The only downside was having to go home.

Sandy Point.

December 13.

2009

Yahoo!!

(Lots more pics here...)

I'm a Turkey - or Swine as the case may be...

I was recently in Canberra for worky stuff and on the way home I stepped out the QANTAS club at the same time as Nicola Roxon (Federal Minister for Health & Ageing) stepped out of the Business club lounge (they separate them now; Qclub is so low brow these days you know).

She proceeded to join the queue for the plane to Swine flu central (a.k.a Melbourne) right behind lil old me.

Or at least I thought it was the Minister for Health - she was shorter than I imagined and trying to juggle a massive bunch of folders and notes that appeared to sum to about the same size and volume as herself.

("Mmmm... looks like a bit of an OH&S problem ya got right there..." I mused quietly to myself)

Trying not to appear like a total nong (always hard I know), I slipped a look at her boarding pass, and indeed it was the Federal Minister for Health her very self.

I couldn't help it...

"Well," I said "I feel just that bit more confident in the fate of the world seeing you jetting down to Melbourne not wearing a surgical mask..." or some dumb line like that.

She laughed and said some niceties and then I did it.

"This swine flu thingy - its all a bit blown out of proportion isn't it; like (I dont think I used the word "dude" here) it's just a normal every-year flu really..."

At which point she put on her race face and gave a me a mini lecture on flu and mutations and spreads and WHOs and...
"Oh well, either way, guess its all a good dry run for the big one then..."
and she gave me the
'MMmmmm... not sure about that one'
mumble and gaze.

We actually had nice little chat as the queue crawled along (she kept telling me how tired she was... "somewhat understandable given the situation" I think I said) and when we eventually boarded the plane the hostie even asked if we were going to be sitting together.
("NO!" we both replied in unison... not quite sure what that meant but probably indicated I knew my place (economy) and she just wanted rid of this guy in a rather nice blue jacket (no tie). Either that or she needed the extra seats for her skyhigh pile of manila folders/I didn't want to be Stuart Diver'd in a bizarre manila folder collapse accident.)

Then it hit me.

I deal with nutbag climate sceptic arguments event day.
Serious, loony, uninformed nutbags.
They drive me crazy.

They've never read a climate paper.
They've never been to a climate conference.
They've never even talked to a climate scientist.
Yet they feel they can tell me that they know whats really happening with the climate.
(Ay Kurumba...)

And thats effectively what I did (just replace "climate" with "swine flu" in the above)...
To the Federal Minister for Health!

Nicola - I apologise.
And hope you get more sleep (watch the folders).

Heads up....

The weekend saw us rush off down to Portsea for a bit of a bike ride down to the infamous Port Phillip Heads to watch Mistress P's mum's new boat (an Elliot17; a 56 foot racing boat, and 25th in last years Sydney-Hobart) head through on the slack water, on the way up to Qld.

When we first saw Rager, they seemed miles and miles away, off Blairgowrie, and I looked at my watch and said to Mistress P: "She reckons they'll be here by 3:30 - I reckon she's dreaming!"

We then sauntered off and stopped at "Eagles Nest" which is the lookout bunker on a small peak near the Point (its all old concrete army bunkers in the hill designed to blast invading ships out of the water and protect Melbourne from invasion...) where they had a high powered binocular set up.

They were getting a bit closer, but wow... when we looked through the binocs they were MOTORING (as in sailing fast... not literally on the motor).

And with 20+ knots of northerly they had 2 reefs in as well.

We held Mike up and gave him a look too, and we think he could see something cos he did say "boat" (and maybe even "Yayas boat"; I cant quite recall now) a couple of times...

Suddenly we realised that we were actually in a bit of a race to make it to the Point and see them through, as the lad was pretty keen on walking himself and not being plonked in the converted bike trailer. So off we bolted...

And found ourselves a spot below a beacon to wave them through with the bike trailer flag. Not that they would have been able to see it.

No sooner were they there than they were gone. This thing is seriously fast... like 11 - 12 knots. Ok, its no windsurfer, but for a boat thats damn quick.

Anyway, well worth seeing and a beautiful spot to have all to ourselves.

Enjoy the pics... (and yes, that is a giant beer bottle on their side...)

Labour of love

Gotta love Labour Day.

At Sandy Point.

With a 6.5 and 18 knots of wind.

Ahhhhh......

The New Toy

I love the smell of new monofilm in the morning.

(i.e., MMmmmmm... nneeewww ssaaaaiiilll....)

A 2009 Gaastra Poison 5.8

As mentioned earlier, it was all the result of putting my knee through my sail in the Breakwind to Beacon race.

The local sail shop (SHQ) had this competition for a brand spanker new Gaastra open to anyone who had competed in the race, all you had to do was be there at the post-race BBQ for the draw.
I'd competed in the race.
I'd busted my current sail doing so.
I needed a snag.
But I was sposed to be somewhere else/I was knackered and wavering, until good ole Mr Porridge said:
"Mate, you're sure to win... you need a new sail now. Its karma"

Such amazing logic.

So the snags were eaten and the draw commenced, but after a couple of aborted tries because "winners" weren't there (plus one person - Matt - was drawn out but gave it back as he'd won it the year before...) they decided it was all taking a bit too long, ditched the obvious jinxed drawer, and asked, of all people, Mistress P to be the new and infinitely more spunky barrel girl.

Being barrel girl involved the complex task of calling out some random numbers and the person with that number on the start list would win the thousand dollars worth of Gaastra's finest monofilm and crossply.

First she called out "3", but it was someone who worked in the shop.
"I'll put it back in stock!" they said.

No can do.

Then she called out "20" but yet again that nongsicle wasn't there to collect the prize.

"SAY A HIGHER NUMBER!!" yelled some whacker from the bleaches. (And no, that someone wasn't me...)

"Forty-five!" she cried.

Paul from SHQ flicked through his start sheet.
"Forty-five... forty five... thats... Andrew".

{No, couldn't be this Andrew I thought as i hid behind the masses...}
"Andrew.... Watkins"
{Oh crumbs...}

Suddenly someone yelled out:
"Hey - that's her husband!"
{I felt all sheepish... and cowered in the back clutching my BBQ raiding son; "Its too hot Michael!"}

Paul spun and faced the angry horde...

"But Andrews the bay wind web page guy (http://www.earthsci.unimelb.edu.au/~awatkins/bay.html).
And he put his knee through his sail in the race!
Will we give it to him anyway??
What say ye?!?"

And everyone cheered.
Seriously.
They cheered.

I was stunned!
(Not to mention several hundred dollars better off.)

Thanks everyone - what a great community.
Thanks Matt a.k.a "the guy who handed it back cos he had won one before".
Thanks Gaastra!
Thanks SHQ!!

Look at her.
Sex on a (carbon) stick.

Stoked.

Breakwind to Beacon

Finally went in the race.
Wind dead onshore.
Straight line is 8km out, and 8km back.

Me:
35th place.
28.8km.
58 minutes.
One knee through bottom panel of my 5.7.
Won the lucky draw prize at the BBQ (A Gaastra Remedy 6.4!)
Bloody great day :-)

Dot/Elwood

Its kinda like how I felt when I looked back after sailing (with JM) from Elwood to out past the shipping channel last weekend.
Or maybe not.

The Search

Sometimes you really gotta wonder why we do this sport...

Forecast was for 20-30 knots Northerly, but against my better judgment ("Never go to Rye once the bay temps warmer than the ocean temp...") said we might tippy-toe down the Peninsula so as not to disturb the gods and attempt a sail regardless.

Headed off at about 9am, but could see no wind and fellow hopeful Adrian had said he was doing a bike ride so wouldn't be at Rye till 11am.
Also thought the wind would come in late if it did at all.
Had, as a precaution, packed the the surfboard (all nice and newly repaired from a Sandy Point fin removal... so new wax on and everything) so decided to turn off Moorooduc Road and head to Pt Leo, as I knew the tide would be right.

At Pt Leo they wanted a fee to get in, so I turned round (as I wasn't sure I even wanted to surf cos it was starting to look windy) and went to Shoreham instead.
There were HEAPS of people, sunny skies, warm already and a beautiful wave that looked the dux guts for beginner-me.
PERFECT!
Chucked on the wetty, grabbed the board, locked the car went to go and..
ARGGHHH!!!
YAGOTTABEFUGGINJOKING!

No leg rope! (Been taken off during the repair...)

Bugger. Bugger Bugger.

Oh well, looking windier so jumped back into car and drove to Rye for a sail.
Rye.
No wind.
Like 5 knots.
Sat round, got a call from Joel who saw me as he drove past to go jerkskiing.
"No wind dude - didnt even bring my sailing gear" he says...

Wandered across road and bought some new sunnies from the Bolle shop.
Still no wind.
Wandered into Peninsula surf centre and bought a $25 leg rope (can always have it as a spare) and drove back to Shoreham, via Flinders for lunch where I chanced upon, and bought, the worlds biggest donut - seriously, it was the size of a dinner plate; I was in heaven.
Seriously - a frikin dinner plate (with a hole in it).

Back at Shoreham.
Tide had gone out, rocks exposed, no one out, crap wave.
Bugger.
Spoke to Adrian who was now at Rye.
Still no wind.
Jumped in car, headed off thinking I'd check out up the bay and maybe a sail at BonBeach or in desperation, Green Point, Brighton.
Halfway along Tubarubba Rd get a txt.
Pull over. Call Adrian.

"Its blowing 18 knots here at Rye - get ya woolybutt down here!"

Fair enough.
Keep driving along, past Foxy's Hangout (complete with wooden foxes, unlike my early childhood when "they" hung real foxes there) to freeway and turn BACK south.

Get to Rye.
Adrian, Bernie, Jane sitting on the beach having lunch.
And NO wind.
Like 5-8 knots.
"Sorry bout that" says Adrian...

We sit, yabber, then head to a coffee shop for a caffe' and cake.
Adrian gets garbled message from Mel about "You must be loving this wind".
Decide to tootle to Mt Martha to see if this wind thing actually exists.
Mt Martha.
No wind.
Decide to drive till we find wind or get to BonBeach (I'd heard it a good spot on as northerly).
Don't see any wind till Carrum, and a few kites.
Pull into BonBeach - theres a car park down the street directly opposite the station;Williams St I think.

See some guys packing up.
Seems a bit breezy.

"How'd ya go?" I ask.
"Well, those guys have been sailing since 9am..."
... my jaw drops...

"And i'm just coming in cos it was getting a bit gusty - i was on a 4.7"
... jaw slams into ground and I slump over like Burke and Wills at the dig tree.

"YOU GOTTA BE KIDDING ME!!!"

Adrian walks up.
"This guy says he's been on a 4.7 for the last hour"
Adrian almost crumples to the ground in disbelief.

Its 5pm now and theres a plaintive Voicemail messages saying "I'm tired" from Mistress P but...
We decide to rig.
Sometimes its better to beg forgiveness than ask permission.
Seems windy again.
Both of us have run out of drinking water and hence are indeed parched as Burke and Wills too.\
And maybe as stupid.
Put up a 5.7 on the big (93l) board.

Fly out, first run.
Wind drops immediately.
Spend 5 minutes trying to waterstart in nothing.
Get going, but its very off and on. Nice place to sail though.
About to call it a day cos sick of this dam gusty crappola, when "whoosh"...

Wind comes in and we're flying, solidly powered.
My gybes were seriously crap and I am a bit frustrated, but hell, it beats driving.
Jellyfish everywhere so don't exactly like falling in.
(Since when have there been jellyfish swarms when the waters COLD!)
Still we're sailing.

Or were... mast suddenly rips through the top of the luff pocket and slowly descends down the stick, turning a 5.7 into a 4.0 in the space of 30 seconds.

"THATS IT!!!"

Sail in, pack up, head off into Beach Road traffic jam.
Arrive home at 7pm.

I really shoulda just given up at 9:30 (am).

(Nah....)


Google map...

The gods must be crazy. Or just vindictive towards cyclists.

The things we do for kiddies.

Monday, 4:30pm. Gotta get boy from child care.
Train or ride?

Train pro: gets me home well before 6pm and hence early pick up for Master M.
Train con: feels like a live sheep exporter; may get stopped by delays due to howling 40 knot gale and 100 year old train infrastructure that breaks if you sneeze on it.

Ride pro: makes me feel good; fitness plus; get to see outdoors after day at desk, WNW means generally tail wind
Rode con: bit of a mad rush to get home, weather seriously crappy.

Oh sod it.. I love weather.

Off I go. Feel the rush.
Or is that air?
"Oh oh..."
Barely 500 m of a 21 km ride home and indeed its air. Coming out of my rear tyre.

Bugger.

Change tyre, but find that new chain wax is not so much wax on- wax off, but rather wax on and wax stay on... meaning it just collects gunk and becomes messier than a Carlton FC Mad Monday.

Hands filthy. Dont realise that I have wiped my brow and hence face equally smeared with gunk. Look like madman.

Bugger.

Back on the road. Wind WNW. Slight headwind to Station pier but not too bad. Turn left...

WOOOHOO--WOOOSH!!!

Tailwind just takes me away and to St Kilda pier I'm sitting on 44 to 48kmh; that's Cadel Evans time trial speed, and I'm on a mountain bike.

Sheesh. I'm a cycling god.

Wind goes a little more W and hence more a cross wind, so slow down to a measly 28-30kmh. Also means that the waves are a little more onshore.
Get to Brighton and notice I am suddenly cycling in a fine spray.
Which for a second or two becomes large drops.

"Bloody rain" I think.

Till i taste it.
Its salty.
Its sea spray.
"Bloody waves".

Bugger.

Riding next to the sea at Elwood and a gust hits that almost literally takes the front wheel away from under me.
Must have been 40 knots at least.
Cling on for dear life.

"Bloody wind" I think, as I poop myself a couple more times when I get hit by another gust of cross wind and almost career into a fence.

Round the corner near the end of North Rd to find a seawall with waves crashing over it showering the bike track at seemingly random intervals.

I think of that Russian roullette scene from The Deer Hunter.

"BANAZII!!!" I scream as I plough on at 30kmh into the death zone.

"Keep going.. almost there.... she'll be right.... OHHHHH NOOOOOOO!!!!!!!"

A full 2 metre wave crashes over the wall and I am drenched but still upright.
Salt water drips from my helmet, ears, shirt and out my from my jocks.
Mostly down into my shoes.

Continue on looking through the blobs of salt water on my riding glasses and thinking of all the bike bits now slowly rusting.

Past Brighton Baths and another huge wind gust just as a cyclist comes the other way...
"WHOAAAA!!!"
Almost a head on as he is pushed straight infront of me...
I see the look of terror in the whites of his eyes.

Almost home... Green Point.
"At least there will be a true tail wind when i turn inland..." I rejoice.

Only there isnt... the tempest has passed.
Even the 2 guys trying to windsurf are having trouble getting out to sea through lack of wind.

Bugger.

Look at my watch and almost late for picking up the boy.

"Will grab the car when i get home..." I calculate.

Swing into my street and turn into my house.

"Oh you've got to be fuggin joking..." I exclaim.

The council have dug up 100 metres of footpath and put streamer "do not pass - danger" tape across my driveway.

Bugger.

Think I'll ring the carer to say I'm late.
Look up at dangling black line.

Wind has blown down phone line. (Tru dinks - I can't make this stuff up.)

Bugger.

Hose salt off bike.
Change clothes.
Jog to carers house.
Collect boy 5 minutes late.
Carer doesn't mind one bit and in fact waits at the door saying long goodbyes to the boy.

Stroll home and collapse on the couch.

Realise ear is full of dried salt.

Bugger.

(But stills beats the train.)

GPS good fer sumfing...

Got out in the end down at Rye (see below) after standing on the beach for a while and wondering if a Crunchy Pt surf would be a better option - tide was up after all... Of course i was the only one flopping about, but suddenly the wind came up and i was flyin', and hence dragged several others out onto the water when they watched me planing by giving them the "watchawaitin'foryalugnuts?" yahoo.


Anyway, the point of this post...

Well after jinxing myself at the start of the session with a "This 6.5 Sailworks Retro is flippin' amazing... bought it new in 1999 (a 'Gear 2000' model no less) and its still going strong" it, of course, tore a ruddy great hole in itself when i was miles (ok, a nautical mile) from the car park.
"No worries... I can still sail it home; if Mike Carter-Key can do it on Mad Monday, so can I..."

Of course... A hundred metres later..
"BANG!"
Whole dang sail exploded, i was plonked in the freezing drink, and i was out at the second sandbar.
"Bloody cold swim..." I thought.
Only to find that I could touch the bottom. So.. I walked in (doncha love Rye?), chest deep at most.
"Bloody cold walk..." I thought.

Left the gear in the bushes behind the beach, quick look at where i was {near set of locked dunnys} and then, the "piece of resistance", set the spot as a waypoint in my GT-11 GPS.

Jogged the 0.8{something} nautical miles back to the car, whipped off the togs, ate a banana, had a wee, then set the GPS up on the dash and headed back up Pt Nepean Rd till the little GPS arrow pointed at the water and the distance to waypoint said 0.01nm.

Pulled in, and sure enough, there on the beach, was my (slightly second hand) stuff! Genius.

Knew these GPS thingys were good for something.... ;-)

(Anyone have a good 6.5 for sale - cheap?? Preferably another Retro - that will last me till 2017...)

Session details....
http://www.gps-speedsurfing.com/default.aspx?mnu=user&val=33984&uid=2447

AB hits the bucket

One for the weird and wonderful (ok, maybe not all that wonderful) file.

Ricketts Point, a 5.0 and the 93 JP freestyle wave, waves and a dying wind. Decide on a little bit of a speed run down the line of the waves, and turned her up to 11. We were smoking.

"Mmmmm... whats that blue thing down ther......."

!!BANG!!

"Ohmigodnooooooo....." and over the front we go in the traditional rag doll in the jaws of a rottweiler catapult fling and smash - something we hadnt had the "joy" of experiencing, at least at that sorta speed, in quite a numbe of years.

"What the goddamn $#%^&*^ hell..." I gasped as I came back to the surface and checked that the board/sail/mast/most of my more vital body parts were still in tact.

And there it was floating, somewhat worse for wear and exhibiting a doozy of a fin-induced crease: a bucket. A blue plastic dropped-over-the-side-from-a-bloody-fishing-boat bucket.

Well fugg me. (And it almost did.)

Oh no...

How much is this going to cost us???

:-)

Cup weekend at Sandy 2007

With a bub its all a bit different... but Sandy once again turned it on for the Cup Weekend.

Ok, we didn't actually sail in the competitions (who sails slalom these days anyway???), and we didn't make it to the pig-on-a-spit BBQ, but we manged to catch up with all those people we hadn't seen since pre-boy days.

The house we stayed in was a mix of top class stuff ("Ohhh... a Russell Hobbs toaster..." Me: "A What???") and total impracticality (A ladder hung from the ceiling dangling things in the head anyone approaching 6ft), but it did have a track directly out the back and over the dune to the beach - well, it you were prepared to scramble a bit.

As for the sailing... well there was a bit of cross-off surfbeach sailing, but the wind was flukey and the current was horrendous; one slip and you were drifting back to Melbourne. Even the good sailors were having a walk of shame every second run.

Still, i managed a ripper of a backside wave ride, carving off a steeper face than i've ever attemped before and leaning into the sail quite nicely thank you very much.

As for the inlet, the wind was mostly easterly, and hence it wasn't perfect but indeed better than sitting on the beach. The GPS was given a run and managed a top speed of around 30knots. Its all on gps-speedsurfing of course.

Fun times!