.. like Jerry. Here are some pictures Eddie Devereaux took of him yesterday at Harding's Beach in Chatham:
Well, at least I got to sail with him:
That's Jerry high up in the air, and me far in the background. At least my sail is about as colorful as his. I even tried to copy Jerry's straight jumps, with limited success:
Hardie was there, too. This picture of him gives a good idea how the waves were:
Nina did her own thing, once she got used to sailing in non-flat water. 40ºF temperatures and full power on a 4.0 seemed just right for her to work on Shove-Its:
You have to realize that Nina almost never sails waves. When she later saw the pictures where Jerry jumped off the wave, turned downwind in the air, and landed back on the wave, she said "Oh, I should do that!". Yes. Wait until next time!
You might ask: were we cold? NO! Jerry complained about being hot, and took breaks on shore to cool off. Nina used open-palm mittens only for the first few runs, and then sail without gloves. My stupid hands acted up a bit, but were fine when I used my old open-palm mittens and the tubes in my Ianovated suit. No, really, they were fine! Even when my board got away from me, and I went for what seemed to be a very long swim. The GPS tracks later showed it was just 3 minutes.
A great session it was. Warm we were. The wind was strong and super-steady:
But my inner chicken won. I was not happy about that. Of course I have excuses. It took me a while to get used to the waves. I rarely sail my 4.7. I did not see 9 of Jerry's 10 loops. When I finally saw one his loops, I was really tired. And so on. Stupid chicken! Hardings often has perfect loop conditions, and yesterday was no exception. Did I say I hate that stupid chicken in me? It's in me, and comes out at the worst times. Don't know where it comes from - I'm a vegetarian!
Chances are Nina will loop before I do - and she has no desire to do so, at least not before she can Flaka and Shaka and Vulcan and Kono. But she also has no fear. Enough power for 4.0? Great, so much easier to duck! Does not matter if for a regular duck jibe in 45 mph winds, or for a duck tack in 35 mph. Her inner chicken either does not exist, or it is mute and invisible. So I maybe I revise my first statement: when I grow up, I want to be as fearless as Nina or Jerry. But my mother thinks I'll never grow up, and she may be right.
--
Many thanks to Eddie for taking the pictures, and to Jerry for demonstrating many loops. It was not Jerry's fault that I was usually looking the other way.
