We've all been whisked back to a moment in our past by a scent, a sound, and in my case Saturday June 9th, a sight.
As you may recall, Saturday was the day we were supposed to be watching the first Triple Crown since 1978. That was the same year Robin was born, just 21 year ago.
STOP.... Don't go there! My math is fine, as are my sensibilities.
Alas, "I'll Have Another", winner in Kentucky and Baltimore was scratched due to an injury. I'd been looking forward to being able to watch a live stream of the race and had planned my day around it.To say I was disappointed is an understatement.
I decided a run up at White Rock Lake was in order, and would fill the void left by the missing Triple Crown excitement.
The day was sunny and bright with cool breeze and a wonderful temp around 75°. I couldn't have asked for a more perfect day. As I ran along the shoreline I noticed out on the water they were holding a regatta, the boats all jockeying for positions at the start. It was a beautiful sight what with the blue sky & puffy clouds reflected off the water, and the bright white sails skittering to and fro looking for an advantage. I was taking pictures to capture the moment when out of the corner of my eye I caught the movement of something bearing down on me.
Looking in the direction of the movement I realized there was another sailboat working its way towards me along the bank, and around the impending race. Having had a fascination with sailing for as long as I can remember, I realized this was going to be an opportunity to watch at relatively close range, the skipper work their magic with tiller and sail. As the boat came scudding across the water in front of me I realized, and think I even said aloud,
"It's a Lido 14!"
WHOOSH!
I was immediately transported back to the early 1960's, Mimi Flynn's beach house on Lido Island in Newport Beach California, and about a million competing memories of times spent there.
There were the sounds....
Wind whipping the banana tree leaves along the narrow entrance to the house, the drone of boat engines out on the bay, seagulls fussing over some found morsel, and the voices of Mimi and whoever else was at the house welcoming us.
There were the smells....
The salty air, the sweet musty smell of a beach house, coffee brewing, bacon cooking, and all of it competing with Mimi's personal scent, Raleigh cigarettes and Chanel N°5.
Heaven!
And then, there were all the things to do....
Shopping with Mimi at the stores on Balboa Island, this always included a trip to the toy store, (man I was spoiled), Rides on the ferry to and from Balboa, time spent at the Fun Zone on Balboa,(man I was spoiled). And when there was nothing else to do, we could always just hang out at our strip of beach, or out on the dock, back at the beach house. Life was good...(man I was spoiled).
Balboa Island's Shopping Center.
If you know what your looking for, the Frozen Banana sign is in this picture.
The Fun Zone on Balboa Island.
I can hear you saying, "Nice trip down memory lane bub.... Sounds wonderful, but what does it all have to do with the sailboat up at White Rock Lake?"
Hang on there Sparky! ... I'm headed that direction.
On one of my visits to Lido I was offered the chance to sail with a cousin, I think it was Patsy Cunningham, in a regatta she was competing in.
Wow! .... The chance to "crew" a sailboat in an actual regatta. My mind raced, (this is where Kian & Eden get it from), would I look back on this as the start to my vaunted sailing career, and allude to it as I accepted the Americas Cup trophy.
Commodore Flynn... it's got a nice ring to it!
Patsy's sailboat was a Lido 14, a very small sailboat, but huge to a 7 or 8 year old.
Lido 14.
Newport Harbor at the tip of Lido Island. circa 1960.
This isn't Patsy's boat but a picture I found on line.
My somewhat vague memories of the day are of lessons from Patsy on sailing techniques such as the use of the tiller and center board, adjusting sails, tacking when sailing into the wind, and most importantly, not getting knocked overboard by the boom as it moved from port to starboard, and vice versa, on a tack. It was all so exciting as the boats maneuvered amongst one another, and jockeyed for an advantage with the wind, sometimes coming within inches of hitting. It was a busy day out on that boat, one that I'll never forget.
I don't remember how Patsy fared in the race, but as I recall she seemed pleased. This may have been due to a good finish, or perhaps from the knowledge she was able to keep the little snot nose in the boat, and not have to face the wrath of Mom and Mimi for having lost him overboard.
As I recall fondly these memories of my day on Patsy's Lido 14, I have to admit, I probably learned from this adventure that I wouldn't be the vaunted sailor I'd envisioned when offered the chance to crew on her boat.
My most vivid memory of that day, and in fact most painful, was of the ride home. Having spent the day out on the water busily dodging the boom while jumping from side to side on our tacks, assisting in whatever adjustments Patsy thought I was capable of assisting with, and marveling at the orchestrated chaos of the race, I was physically spent, and ready for the safe and warm confines of the beach house. We would, it turns out, be spending another couple hours on the boat.
Because of the fact our return home was going to be upwind we were going to have to tack the whole way home. If I hadn't realized it before, I learned it vividly upon that long & cold return trip back, the method used in sailing upwind, or tacking, is a slow and methodical process. It soon became apparent that you can end up sailing what seems like a mile in order to advance a mere 200 yards. This was going to take a while.
When your 7 or 8, cold, wet, tired, wearing nothing but a damp bathing suit, t-shirt, and wrapped in one of those old and god-awful canvas and kaypok life vests, a couple more hours can seem like an eternity. I don't recall much more than just being extremely uncomfortable, and tired, while I'm sure Patsy was doing everything in her power to take care of me and get us home as fast as possible. I do recall her having me scrunch up into the small area at the bow normally used to store seat cushions, coolers, and life vests. This got me out of the wind, but I was then faced with the prospect of being bounced around the hard fiberglass confines of that locker with every rock of the boat, while at the same time the damp canvas from my life vest rubbed raw any exposed flesh it came in contact with. I was a pitiful sailor, and I'm sure, not very pleasant company for for poor Patsy.
We made it home, finally! I don't recall any of the details of getting home and off the boat, but I imagine we were both very happy to be back.
It's funny.... as I recall the events of that day and the awful trip home, I wouldn't trade any of it for a million bucks, not even a hundred million.... well, maybe a hundred million.(then I'd get a beach house and a sailboat...what a rube).
I learned a lot that day, about sailing, my Aunt Patsy, and most importantly, about me and my adventure.
You can have a great, and wonderful time doing something fun, even while spending part of the time being absolutely miserable.
That's why they're called adventures.
~ XO ~
