Then I got slammed in the head with the mast. This is something that's never happened before. I fell backwards while uphauling and the mast just clocked me. This is right after a converation with my opthamologist where I reassured her that I never get hit on the head. My first check was visual field because, quite frankly, this could cause my retina to detach. I was okay, but in little shape to wrestle the sail anymore.
So I floated down to Senasqua Park, the next launch site down. Northerlies out of Swamp Hole are good for this. They give you several recovery points. Then the vultures came...
No, that's not a joke. No less than ten vultures (I counted them) were circling overhead, waiting for my bloated corpse to wash on shore, so they could have a meal. Perhaps that' nature saying, “These are the consequences for over-rigging, stupid. Now you are nought but carrion!”
I beached at Senasqua. The vultures realized I was alive after all and went in search of some roadkill. I walked back to Swamp Hole and chatted with George, one of the lower Hudson sailors.
I missed my Kona. Today it's probably back to Swamp Hole, and this time I take the Kona. I'm also buying a helmet.





