Frostbiting

I gave up frostbiting a couple of winters ago; well, maybe gave up is too absolute a way to describe my slowly resolving ambivalence. Let me try that again, I let the last two winters slip by without feeling the pull to go out and freeze my hands and feet while trying to manage a Laser with too many clothes on to be nimble or balanced.

I loved sailing all winter. I’m one of those people who enjoy the snow and cold weather. I moved to New England after a couple of years in Santa Barbara, CA because I thought that just two seasons, one fog and one no-fog, were a sure way to rot my brain. I still miss the year-round biking and the avocados on my backyard tree, but god I love the snow and the spring that follows.

Frostbiting seemed like a wonderful way to spend the winter. I sailed my 29 footer deep into December most years and then I switched over to Rhodes 19 for frostbiting. I loved dressing up in quadruple layers and having a warm spot in my upper shirt pocket where the little iron-based heater oxidized itself into heat.

When I switched to Lasers I was thrilled that there was a local frostbite fleet and signed right up. What I learned during the gusty fall days on the inner Boston harbor was that the Laser was a whole different boat in the winter. Or maybe the trouble was it isn’t a whole different boat in the winter.

I wore a drysuit with long johns and a layer of fleece. I had a fleece gaiter around my neck, a double layer of poly socks inside the drysuit booties stuck into extra-large neoprene hiking boots, and a double layer of gloves. My head was covered in a fleece-lined, Gore-Tex, baseball-style hat with ear muffs. I was warm enough, just not very maneuverable.

I stayed dry, my head was warm, my torso was warm, but my fingers and toes lost feelings every week after about one race. I was trying to grab lines and get my feet under the hiking strap without looking, except I couldn’t feel a thing. Now I have a circulatory condition so it was all just worse.

And the smooth motion necessary to get across the boat and roll onto a tack was like a slow motion stumble and fumble. I could do it, I won a few races, but mostly I suffered and dumped the boat when gusts called for quick reactions and smooth boat handling.

I never went back to the bigger boats because the Laser just put me off of lead-bellied water-pushers. I still get major kick-ups of ambivalence when we get a 40 degree moderate breeze day, but now I just go for a walk with my mittens on. And now, spring is even sweeter.