First Sail of the Snark

You get a couple of bike frames. Somehow you bind them together with some kind of flotation device in between. Make sure you have pedals and seats and some kind of paddlewheel. Then you're sailing.

Bryan and I had it all figured out - except how to determine the parts needed, how to find them, and how to assemble them. In reality we only had a dream.

We were determined to sail Glenmore reservoir that summer. Dad, as usual, was supportive of my dreams. But he really didn't want this one to come true. He really thought that two 15 year olds, in the middle of the reservoir, on a makeshift bicycle contraption, was not a good idea. But he would never tell me that.

We continued to look for parts and a mechanic to help us but we got nowhere.

Then I saw it. The Snark. It was in the same section as the canoes, which we couldn’t afford. I looked at the price - 80 dollars. Between Bryan and me we had most of that. Dad could make up the rest.

I was excited. I ran to Bryan’s house to tell him the good news. He got excited too.

"It’s this long" I stretched out my arms. "It has one big sail, and a centre board, and a tiller. It really easy to use" I had no idea how to sail. Neither did Bryan. But we talked like old salts.

Dad was relieved that the bicycle idea was history. He even chipped in the additional cash for the purchase.

We didn’t think of life jackets. After all we both knew how to swim. Dad wouldn't hear of it and purchased our life jackets.

How would we get the Snark home? Not to mention, how do we get it back and forth to the reservoir? It was over 5 miles one way.

Again Dad came through. He bought a roof rack for his 1964 Yellow Comet. He now had more invested in this sailing venture than either Bryan or me.

Now it was time to launch her. Dad drove us to the boat launch. It was cloudy and windy. Great sailing weather for a couple of experienced sailors such as ourselves.

Dad looked concerned, as we buckled up our life jackets, shoved in the centre board, hoisted the 11 foot sail, and pushed away from the dock. The Styrofoam hull just fit the two of us, the bilge pump (another of Dad’s purchases) and the paddle. Dad had run out of money by this time and had to resort to a handmade paddle. It was a 3 ft plank of 1 by 6 with enough carved of the edges to resemble a handle at the top.

Turns out sailing was easy. The wind was at our backs and in 10 minutes we were at the far end of the reservoir. Right by the Sarcee Indian reserve.

"Wow that was great." Bryan exclaimed to me. "Let’s do it again"

"OK let’s do it." I replied. "Wait, how do we get back?"

We were both stumped. The wind that carried us here was the same wind that prevented us from getting back. Every time we pushed off from shore the wind blew us back.

After about half an hour of futile efforts and with darkness coming in a couple hours we found a way.

If we put the sail into the wind and pointed the boat at a slight angle we could make a few feet of progress. Then flip the sail to the other side and point the boat in the other direction, and we made it a few more feet. The zig zag maneuver kept us moving.

It took the better part of two hours, but we made it back to my very relieved father just before total darkness hit.

We headed for home and quickly read up on sailing in Bryan’s Britannica. Obviously this task should be performed first. Turns out we invented tacking. I guess not invented but that is what we were doing.

We spent the whole summer in the Snark on Glenmore reservoir. The home made paddle came in handy when we were becalmed in the path of the SS Moyie paddle wheeler. The bilge pump was invaluable on the choppy days we took on water. We collected golf balls on the inlets to the golf courses.

I’m not sure if it was Dad’s idea or mine, but Dad came out for a sail with me. I shouldn't call it a sail, as we barely got away from the dock. On his first attempt to get in, his 250 pounds completely submerged the front end of the boat. I rescued him and he drip dried, while I emptied the water from the boat. On the second attempt I got in first, and then he got in the front end. He was almost 100 pounds heavier than me. Therefore the front end was much lower than the back end (fore and aft for the salts). My tiller barely touched the water. I leaned way back to give the airborne tiller as much purchase as possible. As we edged away from the dock the low front end kept taking on water. My dad spent this short sailing excursion manning the bilge pump. He couldn't keep up with the continuous flow so we docked and called it a day - a wet day.

We had lots of funny, and fun mishaps in the greatest summer of our lives. We took a risk and tried something new.

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