Lawrence Kuh with Cleveland Metroparks shows Subrina Lu how to operate the tiller on a 22-foot keelboat.
Peter Krouse/TNS
CLEVELAND, Ohio – I’m not sure what explains my interest in sailing.
I didn’t grow up around the water. I root for Army over Navy. And on at least three occasions I have been seasick.
Perhaps, it has something to do with my contempt for technology, which I demonstrated in the early days of COVID-19 by cutting down a storm-damaged tree and removing the stump using little more than a handsaw, shovel and mattock. I took it as a personal challenge not to use power tools.
So, while I’m in awe of the giant lake freighters that grind their way up the Cuyahoga River filled with iron ore, for the most part boats with motors don’t turn me on.
What I find compelling is being thrust across the water by nothing more than the invisible wind.
To that end — as part of cleveland.com’s Summer Camp for Grown-ups — I decided to learn how to sail, or I should say learn about sailing. It may look simple but it’s not. It takes concentration, dexterity and loads of practice to master.
I found the perfect introduction courtesy of Cleveland Metroparks. For $10, I signed up for one of its “Try-It: Sailing – Keelboats” sessions. It put me in a boat on the water for the better part of an hour with a knowledgeable and enthusiastic instructor to explain the basics.
This is part of a summer-long series from cleveland.com designed to introduce Clevelanders to fun, new activities.
There were a few others along for the ride, including two Cleveland State University professors, Subrina Lu, 34, and Allen Tseng, 41, who are also husband and wife.
On a recent late afternoon, with the hot sun high in the sky, we met up with Lawrence Kuh, a recently retired middle school math teacher who now introduces sailing to newbies.
After handing over our waivers and being fitted with life vests, we made our way down the dock at the East 55th Street Marina on Lake Erie to a waiting 22-foot-long keelboat that would take us on our brief nautical adventure.
The boat weighs close to a ton, and on the underside is a heavy, fin-like keel that keeps the boat from tipping over but is also used in combination with the rudder to steer.
Conditions on the water were perfect for beginners. Winds were about 5 mph, just right for recreational sailing, Kuh said, whereas 10 mph to 20 mph is for “adventure sailing” and anything above that triggers a small craft advisory.
We took our seats on benches toward the back of the boat and Kuh pointed out a few things, including the boom, which is the horizontal bar perpendicular to the mast that attaches to the bottom of the sail. The boom can move from side to side and bonk you in the head if you’re not careful.
After shoving off, Kuh gave us our assignments. Subrina was seated at the tiller, which controls the rudder. I was put in charge of the line — called a halyard — that hoists the mainsail, and Allen was responsible for the halyard that raises the jib.
The mainsail, just as it sounds, is the main sail, and the jib is a smaller sail at the front of the boat that provides additional speed and control.
Once we cleared the marina, it was time to raise the mainsail, which I did by yanking hard on the halyard and watching the triangular-shaped fabric slide up the mast.
Kuh directed our attention to an arrow atop the mast that indicates the direction of the wind.
The first thing a sailor does is determine where the wind is coming from, he said, because you can’t sail straight into the wind, but you can go to the left or right by positioning the sail at various angles.
What happens is the wind strikes the sail and creates high pressure on the front side and low pressure on the back, pulling the boat forward.
“It’s the exact same principle as an airplane wing,” Kuh said, “except it’s vertical instead of horizontal.”
Our next step was to raise the jib. “Now, notice we started going a little bit faster,” Kuh said.
Kuh then demonstrated tacking, which is when you travel into the wind in a zig-zag pattern that allows you to go from point A to point B, but not in a straight line.
The shape of the sails makes it easier. Back in the day, when pirates prowled the seas, sails were rectangular, Kuh said, and it took the British to figure out that a triangular sail provides more mobility by allowing the boat to slice its way upwind.
So, there we were, skimming across the gentle waves of Cleveland Harbor, with no engine sounds to talk over or exhaust to breathe, just a sense of calm and a stunning view of the Cleveland skyline from a vantage point most never see.
It was all over too fast, and I’m thinking of taking more extensive lessons through the Foundry Community Rowing and Sailing Center in Cleveland.
Or I could sign up for another turn with Kuh, but those spots are limited and fill up quickly.
There’s growing interest in the sailing program, Kuh said, “because I think people are yearning to stay connected to the natural world when our technology, our phones, our work is pulling us into the digital world.”
Makes sense to me. But there’s something else I find appealing about sailing. In a world where bigger, faster, and more powerful seems to rule the day, when you are on the water, the sailboat has the right of way over the more maneuverable power boat.
“So, we get to go where we want and they have to turn,” Kuh said. “Now that’s what they’re supposed to do, but not everybody follows the rules.”
