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Southern Winter Sailing—at 25 DegreesBy John PerkinsIt was only 25 degrees when Iarrived in Heber Springs,Arkansas, on the shores of Greer’sFerry Lake last January. I was bundledup in a shirt, a sweater,a parka, two pairs of socks,two pairs of gloves, a hatfrom the Sarasota Yacht Cluband a newly purchased set ofskintight thermal underwearthat I must admit, whenviewing myself in the mirror,made me look almost like aslim Mikhail Baryshnikov.Normally, at about thistime of day, I’d be loungingaround the Sarasota SailingSquadron sipping on coffee,coke, or a Corona, dependingon what time of day it was. I’dprobably be reading a book,working on a boat, or sailingon a boat in the mild winterweather that is the norm forFlorida this time of year.But when my aging 82-year-old mother told me thatshe was finally willing toenter a home for the aged, I feltsomething must be wrong, and Imoved here last fall.I found myself pretty muchknowing no one, looking for somethingor someone to relate to, so Ichecked on the Internet to relieve myself-pity and angst.After a day or so, I started gettinge-mails from fellow sailors whojust happened to live in the area. Iwas informed they had a couple ofactive sailing clubs and invited me tojoin along at the Greer‘s Ferry YachtClub. I jumped at the chance andshowed up, forgetting the freezingconditions, to find a group racing sixboats from a small Catalina to a bigand beautiful Dufour. As I stoodaround shivering with the others, Iwas introduced around and wasasked how I liked the idea of sailingin these conditions. “My face hurts,”was all that came out.They were all bundled up in thelatest thermal foul weather gear, whileI’d lost feeling in my fingers throughtwo pairs of gloves, and my feet stungin agony from the cold through myFlorida deck shoes and two pairs ofsocks. But my thermal underwearPaul and Gary, two local sailors who are used to sailingin 25-degree weather.worked to perfection. I sweated.I was assigned to crew on an S2with a couple of experienced hands,and we got off with little incident.The wind was blowing more than alittle fresh, and there were flattenedwhitecaps on the lake. We were slicingalong at speeds past seven knotswithout burying the lee rail. After afew practice passes by the mark, wecrossed first after the timing hornblasted. The rest of the fleet was notfar behind. It didn’t take long beforea J/boat caught up to us anddoggedly trailed behind us, waitingfor the opportunity to pass. Notlong after she passed us, we passedher. It looked like a real two-boatrace was on.My crewmates decided the jibthey had up was a little too much forthe tornado-like conditions, and asail change was in order. I shouldmention that we were moving alongat a pretty good clip in adverse conditions,and each time spray shotfrom over the bow, it froze onto thedeck. That’s right; IT FROZE ONTOTHE DECK. It made it difficult forthe bow monkey to effect the sailchange but did give the deck a lovely,glossy sheen thatresembled abstract, clearepoxy.The course ran in asort of long, triangularpattern that didn’t usestationary markers as I’mused to. Turns weremade around small, lowlyingand nearly unseenislands that were oncemountaintops before theArmy Corps of Engineersbuilt a dam and floodedthe valley. You need tospot the low, bare patchand round that barepatch as closely as possiblewithout tearing outthe keel on some rock.You try to avoid gettingskewered on submergedtreetops that were nevercut down before thegreat flood.We crossed the line in secondplace but well ahead of the rest of theboats in the fleet. Considering ourboat had a newbie to lake racing, me,I think we did pretty darn good.I like my fellow crew as theydidn’t get me killed and they weregreat company. They could crack ajoke in between moments of sheerterror—while it was freezing cold. Ireally love the heater in my carwhere I scurried off to at the firstopportunity after docking.All in all, I had a great time, andthere’s now a huge grin permanentlyfrozen onto my soul.When I first arrived here inArkansas, I felt that I had died andgone on to some sort of freezingHell. But now I can state that I knowthat there is definitely proof of lifeafter death. It’s that sailing is life inevery condition, and I just had toacclimate to my new changes inlatitudes and changes in altitudes.Death is the absence of sailing.78 April 2008 SOUTHWINDS www.southwindsmagazine.com