Previously, in Cycling Through a Storm One: Cycling Through a Storm Two: A House, a Boy, a Girl, a Car, a Dock, a Boat, a Hug Three: Starting Sequence Four: Yacht Race Five: Save the Hat! Six: Squid's Bar Seven: Sailors and Fishermen Eight: Maxhole Nine: Schwinn Continental Ten: Psycle Snobs Café Eleven: The Sultan of Strings Twelve: Fetching Thirteen: Spelunking
Vic’s short ride from Lloyd’s to Psycle Snobs was awkward. He wasn’t dressed for riding, and the fancy demo bike’s tiny pedals were for race cleats, not work boots. Still, he couldn’t resist taking a go at climbing Chilkoot. It was the most direct route. While walking the bike up the last yards of the hill, he re-sent his failed text message to Stewie about recruiting Lloyd to crew with them on Corvus that night.
“There it is!” Bob said when Vic rolled the bike into Psycle Snobs. “Are you planning on sailing again today?”
“Yeah, but my van wouldn’t start, so I left it with Lloyd. Since all I had was this—”
“All you had?!”
“I wasn’t planning on cycling today.” Vic lifted one booted foot.
“Ah.”
Vic told Bob some about getting the demo bike from Sequoia’s house, how her husband turned out to be Lloyd, the fiddler who played at the Café the night before.
“So, Sequoia isn’t someone you sail with?”
“No, she’s the woman who rescued me Tuesday while I was trying to change a flat on the demo bike during a hailstorm.”
“Right. But I thought … it doesn’t matter. I’m glad she stopped to help.”
“Me too.”
“So, can we sneak a ride in before the next storm? I’m losing track—it’s Thursday, right? Aren’t league races on Tuesdays?”
“Yeah—tonight’s is a makeup race. We had to postpone one a couple weeks ago when there wasn’t any wind. No storm then—that was Tuesday.”
“Gotcha. And you’ve got another one tomorrow and then that overnight one this weekend, right?”
“Yeah—lots of sailing now.”
“Between the doldrums and the storms. I get it. Maybe you can join the club ride on Monday?”
“Yeah, let’s plan on that. Anyhow, here’s the demo bike. Sorry it took so long.”
“No worries. Glad it all worked out.”
Vic took a stool at the coffee bar, looked around for Gust.
Rachel emerged from the back, brushing floury hands across her apron. “Vic! I wasn’t expecting to see you today. Can I get you something?”
“Sis! Yes! I could really use a power-latte.”
“Missed your second coffee this morning?”
“And the afternoon one, so I gotta make ‘em both up before tonight’s makeup race.”
“Makin’ it right up!” Rachel turned toward the espresso machine, pressed a button on the big Seuss-like machine that was perfect at spitting frothy milk into coffee mugs.
Vic slid behind the bar, poured a glass of ice water for himself. “Where’s Gust?”
“Delivery run.”
Vic nodded, felt relieved, then wondered why. He checked his phone for texts.
Stewie: Let’s go beat Cindy!
Vic put a question mark emoji on Stewie’s text.
“Whatcha laughing about?” Rachel asked.
“One of Stewie’s voice texts.” Vic showed it to Rachel.
“Who’s Cindy?”
“No clue.”
Vic’s phone buzzed and Stewie’s avatar, a picture of Corvus sailing downwind with several large crows chasing behind the stern, popped up.
“Hey Stewie,” Vic said.
“Sure! It’s gonna be windy!”
“Thanks for clearing that up.”
“I saw my text after I sent it,” Stewie said. “Figured I’d call.”
“So, you want me to bring Lloyd?”
“Yes! We can use the meat.”
“He has some sailing experience.”
“Even better!”
Next, Vic called Lloyd. It went straight to voice mail. He didn’t leave a message. He sent a text, then called again.
“Hello?” Lloyd said.
“You’ve got a signal!”
“Barely! You parked your van in the driveway exactly where the only decent cell signal is. That’s why I keep my phone forwarded to the land line most of the time. It got through now because I’m standing here with your car’s hood up, leaning in over the engine. Strong signal here, as long as I keep staring at your car’s motor. Maybe if I stare hard enough, I can fix it!”
Vic told Lloyd that Stewie would like to have him crew on Corvus and gave him the basics about the marina and dock time. Then he changed into the spare cycling kit that he kept in his shop locker and poured the latte and ice into his bike’s water bottle.
From the bicycle rack nearest Corvus’s dock at the marina, Vic saw Stewie standing at the boat’s slip. He was early, so Stewie must have been doing project work. Vic locked his bike, jogged down the gangway to the dock. Corvus was three slips from the far end of the floating dock. Stewie stood dripping wet on the dock, still holding the sponge he’d been using to scrub away the algae slime that grows on boat bottoms during the hot summer months.
“I’ve arrived just in time,” Vic said.
Stewie tossed the wet sponge at Vic. “Want to finish it up?”
“Sure.” Vic pulled off his cycling jersey and riding shoes. “What’s left?”
“Just the keel and stern.”
“Rudder?”
“I got most of that. Want this?” Stewie was holding an old orange life jacket, the boxy kind that nobody ever wears, but everyone keeps in their boats to be legal.
“I guess.” Vic positioned the wet canvas jacket upside-down and sideways between his legs like a diaper, one side in front and the other behind, then clipped the plastic buckle close to one hip. Vic had learned years before to not jump into the river thus equipped. He used the portable steel swim ladder at the boat’s stern to gently step backward into the water. He scrubbed the flat stern of the boat, since he’d need to ditch the life jacket before diving beneath the boat to reach the keel.
After, Vic stood dripping in the cockpit, his cycling shorts extra clingy, when Lark came up from below deck. “Oh hi!” She said. “I came early to help wash the boat!”
“All done,” Vic stepped past her onto the dock to get his pack.
“Damn! I wish I’d known you were going to be here,” Stewie said. “You look a lot nicer without a shirt than Vic does.”
“Oh, I brought my bathing suit,” Lark said.
“Still nicer.”
Lark rolled her eyes. “Anything coming off the boat?”
“Nothing’s coming off, I thought you said already,” Stewie said.
“The boat, jerk!” Lark scolded. “What sails should we take off to remove extra weight from the boat?!”
Stewie looked at the sky and the river, then told Lark which sails should come off of the boat.
Lark nodded before dipping below deck again.
“Is your friend coming?” Stewie asked Vic.
Vic nodded. “Lloyd. He should be here soon.”
“That’s good,” Stewie said.
“Who’s Lloyd? Lark asked, pulling a bagged sail up from the boat’s cabin.
“Sequoia’s husband,” Vic said.
“The one who rescued you during the storm and then stole your bike?” Lark asked.
“Yeah, that one.”
Lark nodded and dragged the sail bag to the dock box in front of Corvus.
“Can you call him?” Stewie asked Vic. He sat down in Corvus’s cockpit next to the tiller. “We’ve got plenty time, but I’d like to get out there and do some tacks to warm up a little before the race if we can.”
Vic spotted Lloyd on the gangway. “There he is.”
“What’s he carrying?” Lark asked. She was dropping a second sail bag atop the first one at the dock box.
“Violin case, looks like,” Stewie said.
“Fun!” Lark silently clapped her hands beneath her chin.
“How do you know him?” Stewie looked again at Vic.
“Small world thing,” Vic said. “He’s a musician, played last night at the Café. And then it turns out he’s Sequoia’s husband, so I met him again today when I went to their place to get the bike.”
Stewie nodded. “Has he ever raced?”
“He’s done some sailing. He even has his own boat, but he might be a better fiddler.”
“Ahoy!” Lloyd hailed as he approached the boat.
“Hey Lloyd, glad you could make it!” Vic stepped onto the dock, shook Lloyd’s hand.
After introductions, Lark asked Lloyd about the violin case. “Normally people bring beer, snacks, maybe sailing gloves,” she said.
“Oh, Vic told me there’s plenty of all that stuff on the boat already. I was afraid you might be low on fiddles!” Lloyd opened his case a crack so that Lark could peek inside. “That can be dangerous, you know, so I try not to go anywhere without a fiddle.”
Lark pointed at the fiddle case and grinned at the others. “There’s really a fiddle in there!”
“Permission to come aboard, skipper!” Lloyd announced to Stewie.
Stewie nodded and waved Lloyd aboard. “Someone get the fiddler a beer.”
“Nice boat!” Lloyd said.
“Vic says you’ve got a sailboat of your own,” Stewie said.
Lloyd nodded. “You won’t want me doing anything important, though—it’s been a while.”
Stewie nodded, looked at Vic, then back to Lloyd. “Just listen to Vic and Lark. They’ll show you what to do.”
Lloyd studied the boat for a moment. “Just the four of us?”
“Yep,” Stewie said. “But we’ll be fine. Corvus handles better with four than five in most conditions.”
“Are those the conditions you’re expecting tonight?”
“Nope. All right everyone, let’s get going!”
Lloyd scanned the boat some more. “Jib and main?” he asked.
“No, we can run the spinnaker just fine with four,” Stewie said.
“It’s been a while,” Lloyd repeated.
Stewie nodded.
“Thirty years or so,” Lloyd said.
“We’ll be fine,” Stewie repeated.
While they were motoring out from the marina, Lark rummaged around below deck and then handed a pair of weathered sailing gloves up to Lloyd. “What kind of boat do you have?” she asked.
Lloyd told them all a little bit about his days sailing Jigs with his brother on Lake Calhoun.
“Bde Maka Ska,” Lark said.
“Right,” Lloyd said, “But Calhoun way back when I was sailing on it.”
“What kind of boat is it?” Stewie asked.
“She’s a Schwertzugvogel dinghy.”
“A Schwertzagarglewatzit?” Lark asked.
“Exactly,” Lloyd nodded.
“Wooden, then?” Stewie asked.
“That’s right.”
“You have her on a mooring somewhere?”
“No, she’s cellared in my yard.”
“What does that mean?” Lark asked.
“Oh, I gotta hear about this!” Stewie grinned.
“Well—”
“After the race,” Stewie cut Lloyd off. “Let’s get the main up!”
Vic gulped the rest of his beer, handed the empty can to Lloyd. Lloyd was standing in the companionway—the center of the boat where a fifth crew person is normally stationed. Lloyd was clearly familiar enough with sailboat racing to understood that as the FNG for the night he would be responsible for dispensing beers and collecting empties. He took Vic’s and found the waste basket below, then reached one hand up to catch the empty can that Stewie lobbed above Lark’s head.
“Hey!” Lark said, ducking unnecessarily.
“Nice catch,” Stewie said.
Lloyd nodded.
“Sorry,” Stewie said to Lloyd. “Usually, we put the new guy in the box, but with four, nobody’s going to be in the box.”
“Where do you usually go?” Lloyd asked Vic.
“Right here at starboard,” Vic said. “Take the port side.”
“Saint Croix Sailing Club, St. Croix Sailing Club, this is the committee boat,” the hand-held VHF radio in the holster at the stern of the boat crackled, Bones’s voice.
Stewie grabbed the hand-held radio, pressed it against his ear.
“For tonight’s race we’ll be sailing a Triangle-Six for all divisions. The warning signal will be in thirty minutes.”
“Did he say triangle?” Lark asked, not that she hadn’t heard the course announcement properly—she was looking out at the river and tracing triangles in the air with her finger, calculating what jib sets and douses would be needed.
“He did,” Stewie said. “Two triangles for six legs. We’ve got the reaching spinnaker below, right?”
“Yes sir!” Lark affirmed.
“Will you go check to be sure?” Stewie asked.
Lark rolled her eyes but went below deck, returned a few seconds later holding two bags, each about the size of a bushel basket. “Regular and reaching spinnakers, captain!” she announced.
“Thank you,” Stewie said.
Lark scrambled with one of the bags to foredeck.
Vic and Stewie talked Lloyd through the basics of his position as port trimmer, and then Vic and Lloyd worked together with Lark to hoist the main sail.
Next Episode: Crashing Corvus
Lloyd is on the boat with his fiddle! This ought to be interesting. ⛵️🎻🎶