Wake Chasing

14th, 2011
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“Wake!” I hear my Dad call out from his place behind the wheel of our 19 meter Turkish Gullet. I quickly set down the pile of docking lines I had been preparing for our entrance into Marmaris harbor and ran on bare feet to the bowsprit. Being the first to the bow of the boat I got to stand on the very end of the bowsprit, my arms wrapped about the roller furler. With my feet firmly planted on the Russian Pine I looked over my shoulder to see that both my sisters and my brother leaning eagerly against the railing.

 We were coming into port from our long weekend out to our favorite hideaway. Cliff bay as we had named it was a little beach just big enough for a campfire, surrounded by cliffs on all three sides. Only accessible by boat; we could fish, swim, climb, snorkel and go stargazing. After having guests out for a week on the boat, or even just a particularly busy workweek we would load up on fresh supplies, and set sail for our own personal retreat, Cliff Bay. Time seemed to stand still in Cliff Bay and going home at the end of our retreat was always difficult. Waiting for the wake to hit our bow was my last three minutes of excitement before going back to where time flew by, and each day was full of busyness.

 I could see the wake speeding toward us, as we turned to hit it straight on the bow. It’s signature on the water spelled one last moment of excitement before turning in to anchor for the day. Four sets of eyes watched the rogue wake coming closer, my 11 year old brother bounced in place, “It’s here!” he shouted as our boat was suddenly moved upwards. Then before I knew it we where plunging down into the center of the wake, the bow sprit nearly touching the water, I could feel the spray of the Mediterranean sea on my face as the last part of the wave slashed across our bow, not quite getting our feet wet, and the deck was once again ascending. Our next downward motion settled the boat into the easy going roll of normal seas and my dad turned out bow once again toward our homeport.

 I stood there on the bow for a while longer, relishing the wind in my hair and the sun on my face. I wanted to extend out my retreat where time seemed to stop and I could enjoy the water for a while longer. I only turned to finish coiling and readying the docking lines once the sounds of my family preparing to dock intruded on my moment of quiet. I started working on that untidy dock line with light in my eyes and a new energy; the day was not over yet.

By: Kristine Holmes

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