Sailing is like flying on the water’s surface
Issue 63 : Nov/Dec 2008
Subscriber Michael Lippmann writes: “My wife and I have three kids. The youngest, Jyllian, is the most avid sailor of the three. When Jyllian was about 7 years old, she and I went boat hunting. This is her story, which she wrote at age 14 for a school project.”
It seemed like I had spent an eternity cramped into our enormously tiny car.
“Dad, please, we don’t need a boat. You’re going to get tired of it after a while. It’s a waste of money and you probably don’t even remember how. Can we please go home?” I would plead every weekend after inspecting dozens of deteriorating, dirty, dilapidated old boats.
Finally Dad did find a boat that he felt was worth the money. To my great displeasure, it was located right here in good old Kingsville.
“What amazing luck!” said Dad.
“What an amazing waste of time we spent in the car,” I said.
First sail
I quickly hoisted the mainsail as directed by my giddy, grinning father. I trimmed the jib, loosened the Cunningham, and eased off the mainsheet. Sailing seemed to be way too much work. Finally I had time to relax. I stumbled my way up to the windward side and stood on the rail, tightly gripping the shrouds for support. All I could see was water for miles, brilliant turquoise water. I closed my eyes and imagined I was a bird, soaring over the smooth, silky sea. Sprays of chilly April water interrupted my dream as I licked my face. But the sensation of flying didn’t leave me. It was like a dream.
I turned my back to the wind and glanced at my Dad. The look of pure serenity and bliss on his face was astounding. The glint in his eyes was entrancing. He really loves this, I thought to myself.
He caught me staring at him and beckoned for me to return to the cockpit. I slowly climbed down hesitantly, like a baby bird leaving its nest, and sat next to him. He put his arm around me and observed my face for a short while. Then he whispered, “This is where you belong.”
I stayed next to my dad for a while contemplating these words until I got too restless. I then ran as fast I could without falling to the bow of the boat. I lowered myself to the deck and watched the water flow by steadily.
It was then I realized that he had seen the same expression on my face as I had seen on his.
I closed my eyes once more and whispered those five little words, “This is where I belong.” I felt a smile spread across my face. It was true. I belong with the water, with the waves and the wind, sailing over the smooth, silky, sea!
Jyllian Lippmann, now a 17-year-old licensed sailing instructor, is very active in sailing of all kinds. She has competed in a Port Huron to Mackinac Race, several Canadian Islands Night Race regattas, Inland Lake Yachting Association Bay Week regattas, and many other sailing races and adventures. She sails her family’s Hunter 31, Bear’s Mistress, out of Cedar Island Yacht Club in Kingsville, Ontario, one of the prettiest and friendliest little sailing clubs on the Great Lakes.
Thank you to Sailrite Enterprises, Inc., for providing free access to back issues of Good Old Boat through intellectual property rights. Sailrite.com
