Friday, May 26, 2006

A message in a bottle thrown off a boat between Nantucket & Cape Cod in 1979...

...washed up in Ireland 21 years later.

See now? That, Nantucket Nectar Guys, is a way more interesting bottlecap fact.

Ugh. Marina Water.
I went over to the UCLA dock today to get qualified to take out their singles so that I could get water time on the days I'm not over at my normal boathouse. Normally they have a whole two-week course...thingy that you have to go through to be certified, but since I've already got some sculling they told me to just show up & do a private lesson & they'd eval me from there.

However, part of their eval is a capsize recovery exercise. Which is a really nice way of saying "Dump yer arse in the marina & let's make sure you can get back in the boat by yourself so you don't drown on our watch."
Now, I've been rowing for almost a year now, & I'd never gone in. A lot of people tend to flip at least once when learning to scull, but I'm freakish & I guess all that roatating on one foot to do roundhouses for a couple years paid off in terms of balance in a single, so I've managed to stay fairly dry.

The instructor, D*, a very nice guy in his 50's(?) was describing the recovery procedure & remarked to me, "Don't worry about it. Some women do it & don't even get their hair wet."
I kinda laughed & went, "Yeah, I can tell you right now I won't be one of them."

Anyway, so I was supposed to do this private lesson eval & then do their Test-Out, but when we got to the dock (after I managed to climb back into my single from the water) D tells me not to worry about the official test out thingy, he'd just tell them I was qualified. Sweet! I don't even have to do their written. (yes, it would seem as part of making sure you know the Marina rules, they actually have a written portion of their exam. huh.)

So I'm good to go. And when I got back & was docking my boat, I discovered I'm not the only one from our boathouse over there on MWF. So I guess crazy I might be, but alone I am not.

* turns out that D actually learned to scull from my present coach, G. Seriously, rowing is the most incestuous sport ever.


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