Friday, 7.7, Provo Harbor
Posted: Sat Jul 08, 2006 5:54 pmBluffdale went north by 4 and the provo airport was north by 5:30. After scouring the lakeview cam for thundercells and seeing no real candidates I went for it at 6:30pm. The lake looked good at 7:30 when I got there so I rigged the lightwind slalom setup, 9.0 on my Hypersonic. The river launch ramp was free of fishermen so I tossed the gear in there and got busy uphauling that dang thing without the uphaul. I know I bought one but can’t remember where it got to but that’s another story.
There’s no wind in the river so you kinda drift along until you get close to the mouth and then it builds. There was good pull out in the open water but for the first 15 minutes I was sure that greed had gotten the better of me since all the pumping, pulling and saying bad words was almost, but not quite, enough to get my 200lbs out of the water, on top, and going.
In a moment of self reproach and Monday morning quarterbacking it was clear that my 12.5, 11.7, 10.9 or 9.8 would have been more than enough, especially with a formula board. But no, there I was, a 9.0, slalom board, no uphaul, no adjustable outhaul, schlogg-dog.
Looking at the wind speeds after sailing it became apparent that the 13-17mph airport readings had dropped to 8-10 almost to the minute when my board hit the water. Little did I know. Meanwhile, humming a little “Sit right back and you’ll hear a tale", and “3 hour tour†and then, “the Minnow would be lostâ€ÂÂ, I told myself it was still a very nice place to be, which is true, and made good to windward as best as could be expected. After 4 grinding uphill tacks my position was improved and then, happy day, my board pumped up and ooched onto a plane. That was it. A lot of it was probably just adjusting to the smaller board after riding the full race outline of my formula hull. Anyway,there was no more schlogging the rest of the session. The rest was all gravy baby. Smooth as silk. It was the stuff a Hypersonic was made for and they didn't even know it.
As the sun dropped behind the western ridges and the light dimmed, the clouds over the Wasatch began to reflect sunset so brightly as to make the water light up in reds and golds. The lighting was more intense than before the sun had set. The sunglasses went back on. You had to alternate between scanning the waves for breaching lunker carp and staring at the insane cloud posse to the east. Maui you watch whales breach, Provo you watch carp, but they're pretty dang big and they'll break a fin box like hitting a log.
When discretion became the better part of valor it was time to point the toes and run deep down the troughs south east toward the river mouth. Landmarks are hard to come by out there and it wasn’t clear exactly where to target. Everything just kinda looks like reeds and small trees in the dark but eventually things started to look good. When I got a bearing on it I was still pleasantly upwind of my launch. Time to bear off some more. Over and over the sail pulled nicely in front of the swells and down the wind. A good time was had by all. Yo- ho, Matey.
I hit the river mouth with speed and coasted upstream for all I was worth dropping off my plane and then finally coming almost to a drift 15 feet off the ramp. Ah yes. But oh no, my faithful flipflops were no where in sight. They were pilfered. Let’s just call it a wind sacrifice and hope the folks that got them needed them more than I. Also, if I ever catch them they're gonna pay.
Jason, I would have called you to tell you I was going but, how can I say it, I wouldn’t have wanted anyone else to have to risk a skunk on my behalf. In retrospect I’d let you make that decision.
There’s no wind in the river so you kinda drift along until you get close to the mouth and then it builds. There was good pull out in the open water but for the first 15 minutes I was sure that greed had gotten the better of me since all the pumping, pulling and saying bad words was almost, but not quite, enough to get my 200lbs out of the water, on top, and going.
In a moment of self reproach and Monday morning quarterbacking it was clear that my 12.5, 11.7, 10.9 or 9.8 would have been more than enough, especially with a formula board. But no, there I was, a 9.0, slalom board, no uphaul, no adjustable outhaul, schlogg-dog.
Looking at the wind speeds after sailing it became apparent that the 13-17mph airport readings had dropped to 8-10 almost to the minute when my board hit the water. Little did I know. Meanwhile, humming a little “Sit right back and you’ll hear a tale", and “3 hour tour†and then, “the Minnow would be lostâ€ÂÂ, I told myself it was still a very nice place to be, which is true, and made good to windward as best as could be expected. After 4 grinding uphill tacks my position was improved and then, happy day, my board pumped up and ooched onto a plane. That was it. A lot of it was probably just adjusting to the smaller board after riding the full race outline of my formula hull. Anyway,there was no more schlogging the rest of the session. The rest was all gravy baby. Smooth as silk. It was the stuff a Hypersonic was made for and they didn't even know it.
As the sun dropped behind the western ridges and the light dimmed, the clouds over the Wasatch began to reflect sunset so brightly as to make the water light up in reds and golds. The lighting was more intense than before the sun had set. The sunglasses went back on. You had to alternate between scanning the waves for breaching lunker carp and staring at the insane cloud posse to the east. Maui you watch whales breach, Provo you watch carp, but they're pretty dang big and they'll break a fin box like hitting a log.
When discretion became the better part of valor it was time to point the toes and run deep down the troughs south east toward the river mouth. Landmarks are hard to come by out there and it wasn’t clear exactly where to target. Everything just kinda looks like reeds and small trees in the dark but eventually things started to look good. When I got a bearing on it I was still pleasantly upwind of my launch. Time to bear off some more. Over and over the sail pulled nicely in front of the swells and down the wind. A good time was had by all. Yo- ho, Matey.
I hit the river mouth with speed and coasted upstream for all I was worth dropping off my plane and then finally coming almost to a drift 15 feet off the ramp. Ah yes. But oh no, my faithful flipflops were no where in sight. They were pilfered. Let’s just call it a wind sacrifice and hope the folks that got them needed them more than I. Also, if I ever catch them they're gonna pay.
Jason, I would have called you to tell you I was going but, how can I say it, I wouldn’t have wanted anyone else to have to risk a skunk on my behalf. In retrospect I’d let you make that decision.