Saturday started cloudy but cleared up and off we went to the sailing club. The flag was hardly moving so we put on the really big jib sail, the one whose sheets run all the way to the back of the boat which makes tacking harder than usual. For those who don't know "sheets" are the ropes attached to the sail that you use to pull the sail in on either side of the boat. I think they're called sheets because they control the sheets (sails). Anyway, going downwind was uneventful, as usual, however coming back not so much. The winds had really picked up and were fickle too. So why did I decide I needed a turn at the helm? Probably because I was getting damned tired of hauling in the sheets every time we tacked and the sheets got snagged on the junk on the bottom of the mast (needs to be removed - junk not mast), then on the cleat on one side of the mast, then on the other. Cleats that the halyards are attached to (yes, they're ropes but they're called halyards, they haul up the sails). Anyway, winds were crazy and I was zigzagging all over the place but sort of in control when all of a sudden the tiller flew out of my hand and we did a 360 - not my fault, I swear, and fortunately Gerry had 360'd earlier and then again later (sorry, Gerry). Moments later we heeled over way too far, I attempted to let the main sheet out but didn't yank it hard enough so we rounded up. I should have gone back to being crew but no, I hung in a while longer, long enough to almost run into a power boat that did not give way, I didn't either and fortunately we missed each other. I think about then I said "had enough - you drive!" So Gerry's at the tiller, I'm busy hauling on the damn sheet once again and wham - my elbow and the tiller collided - OUCH, right in the funny bone, lost all feeling in my arm and couldn't complete the tack. It would probably not be hurting today if I hadn't hit it twice later that evening.
Fortunately you can't get too injured cross stitching.
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