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Sardinia
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Windsurfing with Lord
Nelson
The Bocche di
Bonifacio were called by the
Romans Fossa Fretum, and by
the Greeks Tappros, a trench,
from their dividing the islands of
Corsica and Sardinia like a ditch or
dyke. These straits are considered
dangerous by navigators, from the
violence of the squalls gushing suddenly
from the mountains and causing strong
currents, especially during the
prevalence of winds from the north-west
during nine months of the year. Lord
Nelson describes them during one of
these squalls as “looking tremendous,
from the number of rocks and the heavy
seas breaking over them.” In another
letter he says, “We worked the ‘Victory’
every foot of the way from Asinara to
this anchorage, [off La Madelena] [sic]
blowing hard from Longo Sardo, under
double-reefed topsails.” The
difficulties of the Bonifacio passage
can hardly be understood by a landsman
who has not visited the straits, but
they are stated to have been so great,
“and the ships to have passed in so
extraordinary a manner, that their
captains could only consider it as a
providential interposition in favour of
the great officer who commanded them.”
—from
Rambles
in the Islands of Corsica and
Sardinia with Notices of their
History, Antiquities, and Present
Condition by Thomas Forester,
pub. Longman, Brown, Green, Longmans,
and Roberts. London. 1858.
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This comes to me from a friend, John
Booth.

I
was on a sports vacation with Gaby and friends
about 29 years ago. I remember the time, as
Esther was just about a year old then), and we
stayed at a resort at the northern tip of the
island. I got my first taste of wind surfing
there.
I was doing pretty good (at least, that was my
impression of things), and learned to stay on
the board, and get the sail to stay in the
wind most of the time. One day, I decided to
do things on my own. I had just finished about
4 days of instruction, so I was feeling pretty
confident), and I tacked the wind back and
forth, back and forth. I didn't pick up on it
right away, but Sardinia was getting gradually
smaller and smaller. Seems I missed the lesson
on putting your sail perpendicular to the wind
and letting your board get pushed back to the
islandinstead of tacking back and forth, back
and forth and away from land.
Well, after a while, I was pooped, and just
sat on the board for a while. People would
wave now and then, and I would wave back
(nobody told me you had to wave using both
arms, by crossing your arms in an x-form to
let them know you needed assistance.
Anyway, all of a sudden, there comes this
unbelievably athletic-looking guy in a
neoprene suit with purple and yellow
stripes—which matched his purple and
yellow-striped sail and P&Y striped board
like that silver Greek god what's his name on
silver in-line skates. I mean "Zooop!"
there he was. "Hi there! Saw you might be
having some problem. Lemme see." And with that
having been said, he found the problem. Seems
my sail was too slack (actually, that was the
condition of my body and brain; my nerves were
gone by this point too.) With simple hand
movements he tightened up my sail "Wonnnnnng!"
the lines went, like taut violin strings when
you just looked at the sail; he was happy, and
then saying "Cheers!" he zipped back into the
watery netherworld of wherever he came from.
Well, that just did the trick. Really. Now,
when I raised my board's sail, just the
slightest whiff of wind crashed me back into
the water. Some help.
After about another half an hour of sitting on
my board (ever wonder if sharks nibble on
toes?) this guy comes by again and lets me
know he's sent for help. Then he zips away
again. (Don't embarrass me by asking where he
went; I don't even know where he came from).
Help came in the form of my friends sailing to
me on a catamaran. The Man Wonder was riding
with them, pulled me up with one arm onto the
catamaran, and took my board, tightened up its
rigging again ("Wonnnnnng! Winnnnnng!) and
sailed away in one direction, while we sailed
in another.
Now, you might think I felt relieved; after
all, my toes had been saved. But, lying flat
on the net that functioned as a form of
platform between the cat's two pontoons, I
noticed how fast the water was rushing by.
Then the cat started tilting a bit more on one
side and picked up speed. Yes, jumping into
the fire from the frying pan is a remarkable
experience.
Anyway, that evening Mr Hero was in the same
restaurant, and I bought a round for the group
and shook his hand. I was very grateful, and
the redness of my face was not entirely due
the weather conditions. Seems the guy was the
European sales rep for some wind-surfing
equipment company.
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