Laser Sailing: Never Too Old
After a long cycling break, Joe Berkeley receives a warm welcome from the Laser Masters fleet.
December 24, 2014
If there are fifty ways to leave your lover, there are probably a million reasons to leave a sport like sailing: too much work, the demands of parenting, lack of crew, lack of time, lack of resources.
I stopped sailing because of love. In my late 30’s, I fell head over heels in love with bicycle riding. Sure, it started out as a way to get fit for sailing, then it became something I did in addition to sailing, then it took over my life. How far could I go? How fast could I go? How light could I get?
After a seven-year sabbatical dedicated to cycling, the correspondent returned to sailing and found a warm welcome.
After riding the entire Tour de France route as a fundraiser and the Mt. Washington Hill Climb as a race, my cycling coach said, quite frankly, “Look, you’re never going to get any better. You’re never going to catch the guys who rode competitively in college. You should probably go back to sailing.” But even that didn’t push me back onto the water.
At the time, I still had a Laser hanging from the ceiling in the garage. I left its little trailer down at the yacht club where it sat in the parking lot. It wasn’t fancy, nothing more than a galvanized frame with a wooden box I built on top. I always looked at it as I rode by on my bicycle—until one day, it was gone.
I’ve never done well with loss, so I made it my mission to track down my little trailer. The club steward explained that a parent of a youth sailor had “borrowed it” and she was sure to get it back. Sure enough two days later, the trailer was back at the club.
I took it home immediately and decided to restore it, with a sense of purpose that bordered on the maniacal. I replaced the bearings, sanded out the wooden structure, repainted it, and replaced the rusted third wheel that was broken.
Then, since the trailer looked so good, I decided to go sailing again.
The Laser was lowered down from the rafters and placed upon the trailer. I drove to next regatta, the Laser Masters’ New England Championship, and joined a fleet of 25 competitors.
The trailer was shiny, but I was very rusty and I spent a significant amount of time swimming. It didn’t matter, because the competition and the camaraderie were great. I rekindled old friendships and made new friends by the fleet load. After the regatta I went home, whimpering and smiling.
The event had been a terrific beating but it had also been a terrific time. The Laser fleet welcomed me back with open arms and all of that time on the bicycle was forgiven, if not forgotten.
I don’t regret my time on the bicycle. I learned things I’ll never forget, and experienced all the Alps, the Pyrenees, and Mt. Washington have to offer. But I’m even happier I returned to sailing.
I’m sure there are many stories like mine of those who left the sport and later returned, the born again sailors who come back with the enthusiasm of evangelicals. Wouldn’t it be inspiring to read those stories, rather than one more study drilling the lack of participation and the demise of competitive sailing into our collective consciousness?
