Last night my friend Kirk and I shared a Single Malt (which we hijacked from Chinooks)aboard Epilogue in the cool dark night of Fisherman's Terminal. We lay in the center cockpit with life jackets for pillows staring up at the mast and rig 70 feet straight up...dizzying even lying down. We reminisced of conversations we'd had about this dream 4 years ago and talked about what it would be like to lead trips together next summer. Filled with possibility and excitement, I decided to unfurl the new Genoa and set sail at the dock. A strange phenomenon indeed to unfurl a big sail, watch it fill, trim the sheets and feel the boat tug at the dock lines, then casually step off the boat onto the dock and have a look at the boat, sails pulling full, nobody at the helm. Kirk stole a couple pictures with his iPhone of the sail with back lighting from the dock light casting a beautiful translucent vision of sailcloth and seams. It was mesmerizing and we wanted to stay and sail late into the night...then of course, a large puff arrived and we had to furl the sail in haste for fear of actually breaking the dock lines.
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