My sister just called and invited us to stay overnight, I was told as I came home from work. Inwardly I groaned. Not a whole weekend with her sis… but wait. Not everyone would have to go to the zoo — one of us could go sailing, and since Mary Ann hates boats… that means me!

A fine spate of unseasonably warm early spring weather has melted the ice on Lake Erie and everyone is in an outdoor mood. The night before, picnic lunches are packed, sunglasses stowed and shorts and sandals prepared. The day dawns grey, windy and 40ºF. The zoo has an indoor section. The boat does not. Chicken of the Sea is 10’ long and weighs less than I do. But, unlike Cleveland, Toledo has protected waters near the mouth of its large industrial river. I shall take refuge there.

At the launch ramp at 8.00 the scene is grim. Protected waters or no, there are whitecaps in the distance. The water is slightly above freezing. The wind is piercing my clothes and making my eyes water. I have an overwhelming desire to go back to my sister-in-law’s house and curl up on the couch with a hot cup of coffee, a bagel and a book. I’ve been reading Atlantic to Iceland last night with Frank Dye’s Ocean Crossing Wayfarer. It seemed much easier than crossing Toledo’s river this morning. However, emboldened by a fresh surge of courage, I proceeded to launch the boat.

The first launch of the season is usually a disorderly one. I was glad there was no audience at the ramp to watch me raise the mast then lower it again to attach the wind vane. With muscles slowed by cold and anxiety, launching seemed to take forever. At last the bailing bucket was firmly attached, the sails hoisted and lashed down, the oars at the ready. I donned oilskins in anticipation of a wet ride, took note of the wind direction, untied the stern line and tossed it aboard. Lastly I untied the bow line and holding it in my hand, stepped aboard .

I have stepped off many a dock in Cleveland directly into the hull of my boat. This dock, however, was much higher than the boat, a situation caused by a seiche. The Great Lakes are too small for tides, but a strong wind will push the water to one end of the lake and it will slosh back and forth over the course of several days before stabilizing. That’s what a seiche is. Toledo, located at the western end of Lake Erie was left at ‘low water’ by the westerly wind, but I was only barely aware of this effect. So, instead of stepping into the hull of the boat as usual, I stepped, unthinking, onto the tiny foredeck I had crudely built out of foam blocks and duct tape. The foredeck of a small boat is not a secure place in the best of times. Bow line in hand, I felt the boat heel as I stepped aboard. Bow line in hand, I felt the boat heel further as I grasped for the mast to prevent losing my balance. Bow line in hand, I watched incredulously as the boat heeled still further under the onslaught of my grasp, my mind, in slow motion, saying things like “it’ll right itself, surely my weight is not enough to pull the boat over — any moment, it’ll swing back up” etc. This all took place in a fraction of a second. Then, very calmly, I said to myself — “Martin… whatever, you’re going to fall in.”

I gave an involuntary gasp as I hit the 30+ºF water. I had not expected anything that cold. I grabbed for the boat, but it had drifted out of my reach. If the boat really drifted away, there was no one to rescue it and I might never see it again. Frantically I swam for the boat, my strokes racing the wind on the hull and spars. Flailing out, I began to close with the bow line I had so recently abandoned and just managed to grab it. I finally got back to the slipway — thank goodness no-one was around to notice.

What to do — it’s cold and windy and I’m still soaking wet. There’s no sun and no hope of any today. On the other hand, think of Frank Dye. “What,” I asked myself, “would Frank Dye have done in this situation?” And then I knew exactly what to do — an hour later, I was curled up on the couch in my sister-in-law’s house with a hot cup of coffee and a bagel, reading the last part of Ocean Crossing Wayfarer.