A bright day for a tack and a half
by Skipper Mary
Daysail to Green Island and back
65º course/18 kts max wind
6 kts boat speed
Left the dock at 8 a.m., shoving off myself, with the wind coming off the bow. I figured with a burst of reverse the boat would back out easy but the current grabbed the keel and I ended up backing up until I ran out of dock and boats.
On that backwards trip I passed a family in a fishing boat and the guy said something about it being a good day to be on the water and I said something in agreement.
Once turned around and past the bridge, I was surprised to see swastikas and a handgun sprayed on the new 
NOAA box near the lighthouse, and wondered what their point was other than self-loathing.
Then Revision motored past the Menominee Lighthouse, a lovely scene with the angler. The photo also records the quality of that morning's light.
Once on the bay I reacquainted myself with the simple routine: Hook up the auto-tiller; clasp the lifelines to the stanchion; stow the dock lines and fenders; make sure the lines are running free; raise sail; kill the engine.
It was blowing steady on the sail toward Green Island, where I would tack in its lee, and I was glad the dog had stayed home—although people in the marina missed her, as did I—as I heard stuff knocking around below and the bay sprinkled the deck. Was also glad I was just under headsail as the main would have been a lot of power for me to handle.
Anyhoo, the boat was nicely balanced, we were doing 6 knots, it was gorgeous out there, and my new little thermos of coffee fit in the cup holder!
As Green Island got bigger I thought about tacking and why I hadn't taken the time to 
learn the auto-tack feature and kept resorting to jamming the tiller over hard and dealing with it.
Reaching the lee where it was 13 knots air, I pushed the auto-tiller's 1 and 10 buttons and the bow swung into the wind and then the boat stalled with the sail hung up on the shrouds.
Right.
So I fell off and jiggled the sheets enough to free the sail, then headed downwind. When I let go the tiller the sail filled up fast but it was a tack and I got it cleated and winched tight for the sail back.
Heading home I counted 5 sailboats on the bay, most under full sail. Near the channel markers and pointed just off the wind, I punched the auto-pilot to hold the heading, then furled the sail. The new-this-season Schaefer 750 furler rolls up easy! A big chunk of change for sure, but furler peace of mind is worth every penny.
Heading upriver I called the marina for assistance as there was a boat parked next to Revision.
Nearing the slip I said Hello to the fishing family which included a little girl, thinking, Wow, they've been there a long time, then turned into the slip and tossed the bowline to Sue.
Once docked, I checked out the smeared vinyl letters on Revision's dock side, noting my long rub backing out had even smeared last year's blue tape patch-up.
Ah. Whatever. Hopefully our local printer still has the Revision template and maybe this fall it will be time to scrap it off, buff the hull, and burnish on a new one. Then it will be like it never even happened and we can start all over again.
Once on the road home, I blasted Pearl Jam and thought about what the morning had held:
How I didn't push off hard enough when leaving because my white space was taken up with a visiting powerboat. Psyche Out!
How the green life jacket provided warmth in the headsail's cool shade.
How we rode the waves as best we could.
How the wind played a tune in the rigging.
How those other boats sailed so smooth and clean.
How when sailing solo, even for a daysail, there's more levels. 