The Last Sailing Lesson
I had always wondered what it would be like to learn how
to sail in a boat as a child. I use to watch the white linen sails flap in the
breeze in the San Francisco Bay during the annual yacht races. I use to imagine
myself skirting by the other sailboats like dolphins frolicking in play. I
thought as a child that it would only be a dream.
But in 1984, a few years after I had moved out of my parent's house, I got my
chance as there was a yacht club which offered Red Cross sailing lessons for the
employees of the shipyard, the place of my employment. Terri Mulata, an engineer
in training from NAVSEA,
somehow convinced this non-swimmer to join her in these Red Cross sailing
lessons. I was as they say, dumb, stupid and drawn to her feminine Hawaiian
Filipina wiles. We
enrolled to these free lessons and quickly learned the ins and outs of what it
meant to know how to sail.
I quickly grasped the concepts of sailing from how to stow a boat and maintain
one, to actually taking a 19 footer out for a sail. A heavenly feeling it was to
glide through the waters of the Carquinez Straits. It was a sense of freedom.
"Look ma I'm top of the world". I had a girl who was my sailing partner and also
my social companion at the time. Sure we dated, went to see movies and ate at
restaurants, but nothing beats a nice afternoon in a boat with the wind flowing
through our hair and watching the clouds dance in the sky. Once again I had done
something that my parents would never dream of doing.
But in one fateful afternoon, all that was nice, all that was like a dream
almost ended in disaster.
We had finished our training and received our Red Cross certification cards.




These precious pieces of identification was our ticket in checking out a
sailboat on our own for no cost. We had earned the trust of the club and we
became its honorary members. We decided to take a boat out for quick sail and
invited a fellow co-worker who was not part of the class. The excursion took
place after work. A quick sail around the straits before dinner was our plan.
We all geared up, did the proper pre-sailing checks and loaded onto the boat. It
was a nice 19 footer, the one that was assigned to me and my companion
throughout the course.

Shoving off and setting sail was like clockwork. A nice
breeze took us up and down the strait and nearly brought us home. Did I write
"nearly"? The breeze died and the boat stood motionless in water. We found
ourselves somewhat stranded in the middle of the strait. The tides were against
us and there was no wind.
The afternoon quickly became evening and night would not be far behind. We had
three non-swimmers in the boat and none of us had a clue on how to brave the
tide. Paddling back was not an option as we never got anywhere, the tides always
brought us back to where we had been. There was nothing we could do but wait for
the wind to return. Oddly enough we weren't afraid of the situation, but
tensions escalated and words were spoken that shouldn't have been. But just as
the name calling was about to become heated the wind returned . With a sigh of
relief we were able to return the boat, secure it and log out. We did not leave
the boat house until after 10pm, six hours after work ended.
Needless to say dinner was late and came from a fast food joint as we had to
return our married guest to his family. His spouse was not too pleased and the
two of us could sense we were not welcomed in their house. We felt bad as we
could not stand in his defense for what had happened. Who would believe such a
story? But it was all true and it did happen as I've penned it. It was our final
sailing lesson and unfortunately the last time I sailed.