Received: by zonker.hpl.hp.com (1.37.109.8/15.5+ECS 3.3+HPL1.1) id AA28279; Wed, 13 Jul 1994 02:00:25 -0700 Date: Wed, 13 Jul 1994 02:00:25 -0700 From: Ken Poulton <poulton@zonker.hpl.hp.com-DeleteThis> Return-Path: <poulton@zonker.hpl.hp.com-DeleteThis> Message-Id: <9407130900.AA28279@zonker.hpl.hp.com-DeleteThis> To: 72017.461@compuserve.com-DeleteThis, Fred_Sporon-Fiedler@hpctg.desk.hp.com-DeleteThis, Gerry_Owen@hpctg.desk.hp.com-DeleteThis, Phaman@ccmail.apldbio.com-DeleteThis, Walt_Menge@hp5400.desk.hp.com-DeleteThis, alison@pyramid.com-DeleteThis, cleland@cup.hp.com-DeleteThis, cord@hpoemb.sj.hp.com-DeleteThis, coussens@hplczu.hpl.hp.com-DeleteThis, ghs@hpisod9.cup.hp.com-DeleteThis, jlabat@us.oracle.com-DeleteThis, lenb@ssd.intel.com-DeleteThis, matt@cup.hp.com-DeleteThis, mfabrega@raynet.COM-DeleteThis, missimer@hpisod9.cup.hp.com-DeleteThis, rob_hartman@logitech.COM-DeleteThis, schofiel@sid.hp.com-DeleteThis, sjn@hpisod9.cup.hp.com-DeleteThis, wind_talk@zonker.hpl.hp.com-DeleteThis Subject: lemmings
----------- Sun 10 Jul 94
Went to Coyote. Skunk City. Luckily, I had the new Tom Clancy book
with me, so the day was not a total loss.
=========== Tue 12 Jul 94
"It was 4.7 all afternoon yesterday," he said. "Flat water!" he said.
"No crowds!" he said. So we followed to the Secret Site. Like lemmings
to the sea.
When we got there, it turned out that yesterday's 4.7 sail was Terry's
(she's 120 pounds or so). "The wind looks pretty good," he said. "5.3
for sure." It looked too flat for 5.3, but then, it was *supposed* to be
flat here. Dan and I rigged 5.2, believing. KenB rigged 5.9, but we
all got out small boards, 8'8 or smaller. Like lemmings.
"Looks like it dropped off," we said, when we were ready.
"Aw, it'll pick up," he said. "It looked like this yesterday."
And we went into the water. Like lemmings.
At first, we had to slog. And slog. And slog. Andthenwehad100yardsofgood-
poweredupwindandthenwehadtojibeorhitthefarside. We'd pump on a plane,
sail back half way or so, and then slog back towards the wind line, pump
up andthenwehadtojibe. "Boy, it's great over there," he said. "If it
will just fill in the rest of the way, it'll be great!". So we stayed
on. Like lemmings.
A gust would come and we'd plane, and then it would die and we'd slog.
Then another gust, then another slog. We'd get tired of the pump and
slog and go in to the shore. And then, "hey, it picked up again", and
we'd go back out. Like lemmings.
Finally, after several marches into the sea, it seemed to be dying, so
we all went back to the shore. Like lemmings.
But KenB rode one more gust out to the far side. The last gust, as it
turned out. The day was done, but one lemming was still out there.
Waterstart, slog, teeter, splash. Waterstart, slog, teeter, splash. 20
minutes later the last lemming finally returned from the sea.
We all packed up and headed off down 101. Like lemmings.
Ken Poulton
poulton@opus.hpl.hp.com-DeleteThis
"Mother, the WEATHER is not a PRETTY THING." --Bill Griffith
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