I believe in Intelligent Design, mostly because it is (ironically) a better scientific explanation of how something can come from nothing than the very odd theories of some secular scientists (seeding by aliens, which, by the way, is ID without the implied religion; lightening hitting a prebiotic soup, with no explanation of where the soup came from; the statistically impossible and thermodynamic-law-defying confluence of proteins; A big bang [again, from where? Why? With what?] It goes on.) But I believe in ID also because it allows for a divine personality that intervenes in the affairs of men.
And that makes room for Easter.
This Easter Sunday dawned more like Good Friday. It was clear, but it was also cold and the wind was that hated, buffeting breeze from the north that blows through the streets of Canada's Sodom before descending to wreak havoc on anyone foolish enough to consider sailing in the Outer Harbour. The breeze was a crucible to me last year that tested my resolve and found me wanting. When last year I prayed, "Take this cup from me," I left out the second part; "Yet not my will…" and sailed home before the end of the day, and didn't sail again that year when the wind blew from the north.
That death still hovering, I considered staying home this Easter, but some unseen hand drove me to the club. In fact, I arrived at the club early and sat on the deck of the clubhouse considering what acts of God awaited my fallen nature.
Friends came and went. Alan Measor and Richard Pearcy arrived to step the mast of what will surely be the Worlds-winning Albacore this year in England (they are shipping out some time in July). After one or two hours of sitting and talking, with the gusts pounding out the song of my captivity while I pretended to be alive, I prepared to climb back on my bike and head for home.
And I did, until I passed the Water Rats and saw six Laser sails up and rigged, ready to sail into hell. SIX! The unseen hand turned my bike and soon I was in the very jaws of the devil, waiting for Jamie to blow the horn for the three-minute gun.
My first race (I missed one) was tidy and I crossed the finish line first so, except for the fact that I also crossed the start line first and OCS'd, it was a good one for me. The wind was shifty, yes, but not the death breath I remembered. The second was a win by a wide margin, with the new guy named Joe second, Andrew third, and Paul Muldoon fourth. The fourth race truly played with our heads. We had sweeping gusts and sail-flapping dead spots within yards of each other. I went right when I saw a patch of breeze coming down from the Rat Spit, but when it arrived, it lifted me instead of knocked me, and I did a great circle course around the mark about 75 yards away while all the boats inside fetched the mark or overstood. I rounded dead last.
The fifth was another win but, unfortunately, a parade in the last half (remember last year's Ottawa parades? I am, indeed, Marshal). The sixth was less of a parade, but still hard to make up ground if you didn't get the start perfect. Joe the English Guy and I had a terrific battle going upwind, and he crossed me before the mark by half a boat length, but the wind headed him as he approached the mark and he tried to shoot it. He shot himself in the foot instead and dumped to windward.
I can't imagine how cold the water was, but he popped up and made a finish of it before heading in. I was disappointed that he crashed because we were having such a great battle. I hated to see him fade into my rearview mirror.
Three wins out of six races. Hardly worthy of an Easter parade but I sailed home happy. I was softened. Rounded. Dare I say, delivered? The North Wind had lost its grip. The death rattle over come. Good Friday was past. Easter Sunday had arrived.
And so, drinking my Tim Horton's coffee at the corner of Lakeshore and Leslie, I decided: If Easter is all about redemption, if Easter is all about new life, if Easter is all about deliverance and new beginnings, then I will be for this year, all about Easter, and to hell with that stiff Northerly. Thank you, Jesus.
Rob Koci races in both the Laser Full-Rig and Laser Radial fleets around District 3. Currently, Rob is the District 3 secretary and maintains a frequently updated race diary on D3Laser.com. Rob's home port is St. James Town Sailing Club in Toronto, Ontario.
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