November, 2013 - West Campus, Florida

Actually, I did get out and do something this month. Namely, I was able to go sailing with a good friend of mine. Dakota Wilson is one of the only people who will follow me into the wildest places. We've trekked over sand dunes for several hours in temperatures of over 30 degrees Celsius without any water. We've waded through cypress swamps in the dead of winter and I've watched him drop into holes up to his arm pits. It seems like, whenever I'm caught in the searing heat, torrential downpour, or high tide amid migrating rays, Dakota is there. Why does he follow me into the thick? It's hard to say; his first love is music. Then again, he is a media production major at college and maybe he's looking for a good story. However, I think it's because he has an innate desire for adventure. And that is certainly what he got this month at West Campus of Pensacola Christian College. We arrived expecting to stay for a few hours of sailing in the beautiful bay of PCC's waterfront property. On the water, things were good. Mostly. The wind was oscillating (suddenly changing its direction) and there were eery gaps of little or no wind interspersed with massive gusts. Having taken sailing lessens through the college myself, I was not concerned. I should have been. After about a half hour, I decided to turn the helm over to Dakota. I instructed him that, if we should begin to tip, to simply let out the sail, and if we wound up in the water, he should hold onto the boat. Sceptical at first, he was soon racing back and forth through the bay on moderate winds.
However, the gusts were getting stronger, and I couldn't predict where the wind would come from next. Our "need for speed" drove us into some precarious situations. Finally, I spoke up. "On this next jibe, swap positions with me." He turned to make the move and one of the oscillating gusts hit us broadside. It was only a matter of seconds before we were both in the water. The rudder knocked Dakota in the head and part of the rigging, catching his foot, began to pull him under as the boat drifted away. Diving, he freed himself from this trap and popped up with a stomach full of cold salt water.

My camera had her own adventure. Thankfully, she was inside a pelican case when we tipped and tied to the boat with a rope. The pelican case worked just great and, once the boat was righted, I reeled her in. 

I was perhaps more fortunate. Rather than dropping backwards off the high end of the boat as Dakota had done, I held onto the mast and dropped head-first into the water. I found my face slapping in the water and my shoe caught in the ropes. True, I was attached to the boat, which is a good thing, but Dakota was not.
Afraid that the watchman at the shore hadn't seen our accident, I attempted to right the boat myself. Being the thin man that I am, however, I only succeeded in giving my hands calluses and blood blisters and exerting my muscles beyond what they were created to do. Thankfully, the speedboat soon arrived nearby. "Go pick up my friend," I instructed him. Apparently he didn't hear me so I repeated myself and pointed to where Dakota was bobbing in the water. After Dakota had been brought over and the two of us easily righted the boat, I climbed aboard. Dakota went with the speed boat back to shore, as I sailed back in alone.
The ride in was long, and I had my doubts as to the status of Dokota's attitude toward me. The pelicans and terns calmed my nerves as they scoped for fish and a dolphin surfaced near by, as if to assure me that nature was still in harmony. Of course, I had no reason to worry. Dakota was more excited than I was about the whole adventure. We laughed it up and drove home with music.