The Rescue

It was beautiful day at the cottage. People gathered around to sit on lawn chairs and soak up the rays while discussing family issues. Many were there but absent in some other way: It was a weekend getaway for everyone there to forget about the troubles of city life. I love the cottage: the humidity in the air, walking bare feet on the grass, the sunshine that is rather ignored in my life… There, everything is more real: the storms are louder, the rain pours down much more, the nights get cold and the days are warm. Oh, and another thing, the people are great no matter how they view themselves: They are family after all. It's truly a great place for anyone to be and it is my favorite place in the world. This fine day was all about the wind. It was the perfect day to test my newly acquired windsurfing skills.

It was early in the afternoon, which meant I had only been up for an hour or so. I looked at the water and concentrated on feeling the wind against my face. It was perfectly windy. I encouraged my sister to go out there before I did but she refused. It was expected for her to respond this way. No matter, I put on a lifejacket and ventured out into the sea. I paddled out until I reached deep enough water and pulled up the sail. I pointed it where I wanted to go and off I was. I experienced a little difficulty from the start, due to my lack of stability while holding the great big sail up, but after a few readjustments, I ventured forth into the open sea. I headed toward the smallest island and tacked when I reached it. The wind began to behave very differently just then. Perhaps it was the turbulence cause by the surrounding islands or perhaps it was just the gusty nature of that particular day. Nonetheless, I could feel a very strong breeze heading in a different direction. I did by best to hold the sail but it seemed I wasn't capable of stabilizing myself on the slippery board on time to react when the strong wind filled the sail. I persisted to learn how to stabilize myself quicker. After many tiring tries, I could see my father's cousin roaming around me with his mother's yellow kayak. He was babbling about cheating the wind and not being able to pay the price and so on. It was truly for the purpose of conversation because as soon as the fierce breeze gave me a chance to get going, I was already on my way. Peter S, My father's cousin, congratulated me on my perseverance and quick learning as I was surfing away with the wind.

It didn't take long for the horrendous breeze to show up again but I was already stable on the board. I just hiked as well as I could and let the powerful wind propel me at incredible speeds. I was already far away from Peter, who seemed to try and keep up. I finally learned how to hike properly and I was excited. All the times I tried to do it the improper way tired me greatly though; adding that to pulling up the big sail out of the water over and over again tired my muscles out. I could feel my stabilizer muscles shaking in my legs but I was also shivering at the time. It was time to head home. I tacked again and let the wind push me home. Judging from the waves and the effect the wind had on the water, it was a perfect day for that, it looked as though the wind would take me home from this position, no matter what. When I arrived there, I landed softly on the sandy beach. I got a few applauses from various people and took off my lifejacket. After a long sigh of relief, I encouraged my sister to do the same. I dried myself with my towel and put my shirt back on to keep me warm. I took her place on the seat and relaxed.

My sister was finally ready to give windsurfing a try. Peter offered me a beer and I gladly accepted. We discussed my success briefly and just relaxed. I watched my sister as she tried to paddle out to sea. It seemed as though she wasn't going anywhere. Nonetheless, I expected her to learn this part on her own. She was a good swimmer and she was supposed to know what to do. She wasn't doing it right. She tired getting the sail up and let the wind carry her farther from the shore but she seemed unsuccessful. After my second beer, I decided to pay her a visit and let her know how to paddle out (that was the only thing I felt compelled to help her with… it was an easy task after all). She was being dragged away towards the end of the peninsula that our cottage rested on. I got a different lifejacket on and set myself away on the kayak. I had it in my mind that she had the wrong paddling techniques. I set off the help her get away from shore so she can actually get some surfing done. I moved pressingly to her position. I could already see the distress in her eyes.

She had been crying from the despair she felt. I tried to give her the pointers that I believed would help. It seemed she had already given up; I lost the battle before I arrived. She looked at me and complained about so and so conflicting with her obviously correct techniques. I sighed. I told her to dig her arms deeper in the water to push away with. She looked like a penguin that was just pushing the surface of the ice with its wings. She wasn't going anywhere like that. Still, she was lazy and didn't try very hard or for very long for that matter; instead, she complained that the wind was shifting the board and making her turn in an unwanted direction, which was true. She also complained about the endless waves that kept pushing her backwards. The sail was dragging with the wind and just a little imprecision in its angle was capable of shifting the board. When she tried to reposition it, it just slid off and fell into the water as she climbed back on the board. This happened repetitively. It was very painful for someone who was already discouraged about everything else. I told her it was because of how she was getting back on the board that caused it to fall and said she had to place the sail without getting off the board. She tried to do as I said only to fail miserably. It didn't look like she tried at all. All she looked like she was doing was cry. Perhaps it was hard to cry and sail at the same time… that I will never know. Still, I persisted to help her out. I tried placing the sail for her but she was without hope. She made it clear she had already given up the paddling part. I did all I could do: I offered her my kayak in exchange for the windsurfer for her safe journey back to the cottage.

We were already slipping of the peninsula at the time. The windsurfer was being pushed back into the endless side of the sea. I wasn't afraid though, I had gotten out from there before. I swam to the board and lifted up the sail. My sister used the kayak to return to the point of the peninsula and looked at what I was doing. The moment I was able to get going, I headed towards the island I had previously gone to. It wasn't very difficult but I was already tired from my previous tries. When I got there, I expected to be able to return home the very same way I had done before. The wind, it seemed, had very different plans for me. I was stuck there again but I didn't despair. I didn't yet realize how different things were from just a few minutes prior to my attempt to help my sister… which had seemed to turn into some kind of rescue attempt. I tried heading back home just as before but it seemed impossible. The moment I caught the proper wind and moved a few feet towards my destination, the wind would suddenly flap the sail into a stall.

There was only one explanation for this but I ignored it. The wind looked and felt like it was the same as before but I refused to believe there could be a second wind, a stronger wind that was constantly blowing in the opposite direction from my destination. I tried to follow the wind to understand it by testing the windsurfer in different angles. It seemed all I was capable of doing was go towards the point (southwest) or to the island (northeast). There was also the obvious trajectory that would lead me behind the peninsula into the big sea (south) but that was the opposite of where I wanted to be. I tried everything I could to head as far to the west as I could but nothing worked. I was just looping between the point and the island without any idea what was going on. I finally let it enter my mind that I was facing a wind that was pushing me southeast and not just south as I had hoped. Knowing I couldn't head northwest because of it, I tried my best to head north and/or northwest. Every single time, the sail would flip around and make me fall, or it would just stall. I was beginning to dehydrate intensely. The beer and salted seawater didn't make a great combo. I pulled the sail up again and again to try to head in any direction that would take me anywhere near home but I failed each time. I was terribly exhausted and I shivered from the cold. My hands were bleeding from the open blisters. The rope that I was using to pull up the sail had taken its toll on my hands. My legs were also tired of pulling my weight and that of the sail in a futile attempt to get away from it all. There was just nothing else I could do but try anyway. I was getting far too cold to give up. I just planted my feet on the sharkskin board and pulled that sail up again and again. Sometimes even that sharkskin texture wasn't enough to provide me with enough traction to stay on the board. I was careful to fall away from the board though. I didn't want that sharkskin to serve the purpose of tearing off bits of my flesh every time I failed to stabilize myself.

I fell deep in the water, away from the danger of the sandpaper-like surface of the board. As usual, while I was floating my way back to the surface, I held my hands up to protect my head in case the sail was falling towards my head… It wasn't unusual for that to happen. However this time there was no stopping it. I could feel my hand catch the sail but I couldn't see what was going on since my eyes were still under water. Suddenly the mass hit me in the temple. I sunk back underwater as a consequence the impact and fought the sail to create a spot through witch I can breath air. When the air filled my lugs, I proceeded underwater to go around the fallen sail and got back up on the board. I stood up on the board, ready to try again, only to notice that the blow to my head had disorientated my senses. Now that it was time to give up, it was all the more impossible. In all my tries, the wind and the current had managed to push me ever so far behind the peninsula. There was no way to signal anyone for help anymore: I was out of visual range. I was cold, alone, weak, confused and on the verge of having a concussion.

Perhaps that blow to the head wasn't such a bad thing. I crouched on the board and rested a moment. I looked at the water and tried to understand what was going on. The strong breeze that was ever so threatening to chill me to the bones and send me far into the unknown, added to my sore temple, was enough to make me come up with the explanation to my troubles. The answer may have always been in my mind but I ignored it. I was actually facing two winds: one that kept pushing me south and the other that pushed me southeast. There was simply no way to go north or even northwest. I was trying to do something impossible. Unfortunately I was far too weak to try again. This time I truly gave up. I thought I couldn't get back if I tried. Perhaps it was true but I would never know…

I waited patiently on the board, shaking from the cold and the muscle spasms of exhaustion. My lips were turning blue and my hands were numb. I was immediately relieved when I saw, with the corner of my eyes, that someone was already on her way to my rescue. To whom do I owe my relief? It was none other than my own mother. I wasn't very pleased to know it was her. My mother didn't know anything of windsurfing. She couldn't help me how I really wanted to be helped. I wanted to learn how to get out of this situation. There were only two people I wanted to see paddling towards me on the small yellow kayak: Peter, or his sister. No one else was qualified to rescue the rescuer. No one else could have traded for my place as I did my sister. Still, I could have been towed to shore… possibly.

It seemed my mother had forgotten a very important part in her rescue attempt… She didn't even bring a rope. All she had was a very thin and short string (not a rope… a string…). She tied it on the front of the wind surfer and on the back of her kayak. It was a pathetic site from where I was lying let me tell you. The way a kayak moved, it made the short roped swing sideways into a useless motion. There was no way to tow anything with a kayak without the proper length rope. That short rope made her actions more useless than if I attempted to paddle all the way back. I sighed in disapproval. We weren't going anywhere. I wasn't very ashamed of the laziness of all my other relatives that preferred to sit by and wander what was happening and why they haven't seen my sale in a long while. They sipped their beer and read their books. Someone finally had the idea that they should do something. Perhaps it was a collective idea but regardless of the good thought, I couldn't say the same about the time it took to set their plan in motion. There must have been much fussing about anything and everything that made all their ideas a total waste.

Thankfully, there were others… total strangers that happen by at the right moment and with the right tools… a motorboat and a rope. I looked in their way. It was a young couple in their mid-twenties. The woman that sat up in the front of the boat called out to see if we required assistance. Both my mother and I accepted the offer graciously. I tried to untie the string from the kayak but it was far too thin and tight for someone with shivering-numb hands to untie. The woman from the boat assisted me and set me loose after a few minutes of tampering with the awfully ridiculous rope. Both my mother and I looked ridiculous but it wasn't time to place blame or feel needless shame when facing a real rescue.

We all discussed the best methods in which we could return to our home. After revising our plans, the blond woman at the head of the boat insisted that she should take my place and windsurf back to safety. I was uncertain how she would do that but she did say she had much more experience than I did: It was just my third time after all. I was happy to accept her proposal thinking I would learn much from this experience. I was eager to see a real adept on the water. Optimism, it seemed, wasn't always better than intuition. I climbed on board the midsize boat and let her jump in the water to tackle the windsurfer. My mother kept her distance but didn't say anything. I kept my eyes on the woman. She pulled up the sail and started moving. She was moving towards the point. I didn't know what she was planning to do but I kept watching. When she got close to the point, she turned around and was coming right back where she started… There was no progress there. She was about to repeat the same maneuver but her husband convinced her that she simply couldn't do it. Perhaps she was just interested in getting a free try at windsurfing… Regardless, she gave up at her husband's request.

I turned around to look at the older man and explained what I believed was happening. I suggested the only way to windsurf back to our destination was to pass behind the islands. He simply excused his wife's actions by telling me the wind was unpredictable on this particular day. He also said it wasn't a good day for windsurfing. I could see from afar, behind the islands, there were other windsurfers out there, two of them. They seemed like true adepts though. I pointed them out and the man shrugged. It was time to accept the fact that the windsurfer had to be towed by the boat. The woman unhooked the sail from the board. I grabbed it and pulled it on the boat. We had to loosen the sail and wrap it so it doesn't blow out in the wind. Just as before, I was incapable of untying the rope. The man helped me and after a moment we set it loose. The sale was secure on the boat and the board was towed from the back of the boat. The woman rested on the board and let the boat pull her with it.

I pointed her husband in the direction of our cottage. I could see there was someone standing at the end of the dock, looking in our direction. It was Peter, Peter S's father, my great uncle. I specified where my cottage was by pointing him in Peter's direction. As we got closer, I could see that my father was preparing our own motorboat from the dock. That was the most shameful part. I didn't say anything until everything was unloaded off the boat and the couple left. It took all of this time and the reason why it wasn't my own family that came for me in the motorboat was because my dad didn't want to get wet… That and the fact that a variety of amphibians appreciated the shelter our boat provided them… Instead of setting the motor on the boat, plugging it into the fuel tank, pushing it off the beach and coming to my rescue (with a rope), my father decided to shake the frogs away from underneath the boat, drag it to the dock not to get wet (though he got ridiculously wet anyway) and then set the motor and tank… all in the laziest and most unproductive matter possible… The best way for anyone to rush for someone's aid I tell you.

What lessons have I learned that day?

Never trust beer when you are thirsty.

Never drink seawater.

Never go out to sea without a motorboat all ready to depart… fast.

Never let your own mother rescue you before the blonds.

Never believe that the blond knows what she is doing if your intuition tells you otherwise. (no offence to all of you blonds out there: my intuition was not based on hair color.)

Never go anywhere without rope.

Always expect your relatives to fuss about ridiculous things when you desperately need them...