Lake Pickthorne was not designed as a sailing lake, but my little thirteen foot sailboat works just fine on what is normally known as a fishing lake.  And the best part is that I can leave home and be ready to launch in 15 minutes.

This lake presents a couple of problems for the sailor.  The most obvious are the many stumps lying hidden just barely under the water.  They are great hiding places for fish, but can be bad for boats.  Fortunately, my little sailboat is designed with a swinging centerboard and a two-part tiller which also swings gently out of the way when I hit an unexpected stump.

But the biggest challenge at Lake Pickthorne is starting and ending right in front of all the hardcore fishermen surrounding the dock.  Some watch closely out of the corner of their eyes while loading and unloading their boats.  Others, fishing from the pier, openly stare at me because they have never seen a sailboat on this lake.  Their expressions show their curiosity about this strange person who has brought a sailboat to a fishing lake instead of a good ole' johnboat with the honorable purpose of catching bass or bream.  The audience is not kindly disposed to us sailor-types.

And solo sailors, like me, have way too many things to do at the moment of launching.   With all those eyes examining my every move, I have  to mount the tiller (steering mechanism) on the back of the boat and release the nut so that the rudder will swing down into the water, put up the main sail (which must be done at the front of the boat far removed from the tiller requiring that only one of the two be attended to at a time), then put up the jib sail, swing down the centerboard, pull the jib sheets, tighten up the main sheet, balance the boat and avoid the stumps - all at the same time.  This delicate and tricky maneuver usually results in the sailboat tangled perilously amid the snags and stumps where only the fish should be and a pier full of smug fishermen trying to hide their snickers.  And the most humiliating of all is when a fishing boat has to come and pull me off the stumps.

But not today.  Today the plan came together in a demonstration of sailing which amazed the fishermen and even surprised me.

Since the wind was blowing almost straight into the loading ramp making for a difficult point of sail, I decided to raise the sails before I stepped into the boat.  With both sails locked and loaded, I deftly spun the little boat into the wind and released the tiller mechanism so that it was ready for action.  With a gentle push, I stepped into the boat, simultaneously pulling the centerboard into the down position and grabbing for jib sheets and main sheets.  Heading 45 degrees into the wind, the boat quickly gathered speed toward the fishing pier on the left.  About five feet from striking the pier, I spun the boat, scrambled to the opposite side for balance and switched the jib and main sheets.  The boat was now heading 45 degrees toward the stumps on the other side.  With only three smooth tacks into the wind, I had passed the stump-lined channel into open water.  Hey!  I left those fishermen gasping for air at the smooth and effortless manner in which that little sailboat whisked into action.

Then for an hour, I whizzed back and forth across the lake with a gusty wind blowing from the east.  Zoom!  I sailed quickly to the north end of the lake about a half mile away, then quick as a wink I tacked the other direction and sailed the mile or so to the opposite end.

Occasionally the wind would gust to 20 mph and the boat would lean far away from the wind.  When that happened I quickly scrambled to the windward side and hung far out over the edge of the boat to keep from taking water.  Once the wind gusted too quickly, and I took on several gallons of water before getting the main sheet loose and regaining control.  Occasionally the wind died completely, but then the gusts came again from another direction.

I could spot the wind coming by the dark, bothered blotches marching across the smoother waters.  By watching closely, I could time exactly when the gusts would hit.  Back and forth, back and forth I sailed.

When the winds calmed a bit, I moved almost to the mast using the extended tiller handle so that the back of the boat would lift free of the water. Perfectly balanced, the boat moved quickly across the water with even the least of breezes.  Sometimes I stood by the mast.  By stepping to port or starboard, I could perfectly balance the boat and look around for the wind gusts headed my way.  When the wind hit, I felt like I was standing on wind-driven skies racing silently across the water.  But the wind grew too strong, and once again I sat far out over the edge and flew across the lake with the water churning white as the boat cut through the waves.  I looked behind to see the flowing water making smooth lines receding behind me.

Finally, I was ready to return to dock.  The wind was blowing directly toward the dock which is good for getting there, but bad for stopping.  The biggest problem with a sailboat is stopping it.  There is no reverse gear and no "Stop" on the gear switch.  So the sails have to be lowered at just the right moment, all the while monitoring the tiller handle to avoid the stumps on either side.

So I decided to lower the jib sail in open water before heading directly in.  I quickly unhitched the jib halyard and wrestled the flailing sail into the front of the boat and stashed it so that it would not blow out again.  Then, under main alone, I blew toward the shore.

About 20 yards from shore, directly beside the fishing pier with dozens of watchful eyes, I spun the little boat 180 degrees to face directly into the wind.  Then I stepped to the mast, loosened the halyard, lifted the boom from its socket and pulled down the main sail.  I moved to the back of the boat, grabbed a paddle and spun toward the loading ramp.  With just three quick stokes of the paddle and never a wasted motion or a self-conscious glance at the surrounding fishermen, I edged the nose ashore and stepped on dry ground.