Tiger
I am in the busiest part of the channel now, so I have to stop my reminiscing and keep my head on a swivel. Running close to the lee, I sail with the wind keeping my eyes focused fore, aft, starboard, and port. It’s the place where boats leaving and entering have less than a quarter-mile in which to navigate between the pincerlike bluffs that guard the inlet like a pair of bearded sphinxes. I hold tight to the weather mark and out-point a forty-foot scow only to be overtaken by an out-bounding catamaran, its port pontoon careening off the water, nearly running afoul of my hull and skull. Our three boats must make for quite a sight from shore, like we’re all part and parcel of a single, fractured hull flying a sheet of multicolored sailcloth.
Over the years this inlet has widened an
