It's good to be a woman, especially a crowd of women

It's good to be a woman, especially a crowd of women.

While recovering from recent back surgery, I wondered what I'd do with my new found freedom; freedom from pain.

Clear Lake is a gorgeous place to enjoy water sports. In 1989 I came to visit a friend here and we took her boat out for a tour of the lake. Of course, I loved it. I often see sailboats cutting through the water and think that one day I'll get back out there. I'm not sure if sailing is like riding a bicycle; once you learn, it will always come back?

I was 9 when I first went sailing. My rough-and-tumble uncle took my parents, my brother and me out for a spin on his sail boat on Lake Michigan. Seeing me squirm and anxious to head back to shore after only a half hour out, my uncle loudly and proudly announced that the boat had no indoor plumbing. Embarrassed, I cringed as he handed me a tin can full of worms. “Use this,” he said laughing. “Hang overboard, or fall overboard. Either way will work.” Not funny.

I've sailed since but I never learned a jib from a jibe, a tack from a Tictac, leeward from windward or true wind from a don't-mess-my-hair-up kind of wind. So, when I lived in Southern California, I took an all-womens' class at Orange Coast College's School of Sailing and Seamanship (OCC), in Newport Beach.

After that class, I signed up for a weekend adventure; an all-female cruise to Catalina Island offered by OCC.

The day of our voyage, the fog was low and thick. How would we be able to sail in such soup to Catalina? I'd have to utilize the skills I had learned in Diane dewitt's Allwomen's Keelboat Class, but who knew the weekend adventure would start off to be so challenging.

Once dockside, the petite Captain dewitt introduced the crew: Elaine Henderson, Pat Lueras, Susan Topeka, Megan Morgan and Karen Schmitt. They hailed from Newport Beach to Santa Barbara, all more experienced than me. We, however, shared two things in common: the love of sailing and the desire to be active crew members. Although there wasn't a manhater amongst us, our main goal was to learn to be captains of our own boats and to not be dependent on a man telling us what sheets to trim. “Good,” said dewitt, “you need to think on your own.”

As we boarded the Glin de Mar, a Cal 48-foot cutter rig, I cringed with embarrassment. I had more luggage than anyone. Dewitt laughed. “That's your first lesson,” she said. “Pack lightly.”

With bunks claimed and gear stowed, we plotted our course, posted lookouts and set out for Catalina. It was definitely foggy, but all we had to do was keep an eye out for ships and other floating objects, stay on course and blast our fog horn.

We were about a mile out when a small Bayliner full of fishermen flagged us down. “How do we get back to Newport?” they yelled through the gray mist.

The irony of men asking women for directions wasn't lost on us. We gave them, without smirking, the harbor's coordinates and the course to steer. Watching them start back we were stunned as they suddenly veered 90-degrees in the opposite direction into the soup.

“Typical,” someone said. We shook our heads and continued toward Catalina. A halfhour later a second boatload of men approached and called out for directions. We couldn't help but laugh.

They listened intently and disappeared heading toward Newport. If they kept on course, they'd enjoy a midmorning dockside cup of java. The other boat, however, would be drinking their coffee in Alaska.

Once the fog lifted, sailing became what sailing is — fun. The wind was strong and I was at the helm. I cut through the water on a close-reach at Mach speed and sea spray licked my face. It was an Eticket ride.

Captain dewitt sat in the cockpit, grinning. We were a good crew, she said. OCC'S reputation for being the best sailing school on the West Coast was due in part to its using exceptional instructors. The petite, duffel bag-sized woman had sailed boats around the world for two decades and has taught for just as long. With an arm's length of credentials, dewitt had a sparkle that made people sit up and listen.

As we pulled into Two Harbors, to the north of Catalina, dewitt gave specific instructions on how to maneuver through the tricky channel. With Henderson at the helm, we managed like old salts. Harbor Patrol radioed that there were no moorings available, that we'd have to anchor, but once he pulled abreast of our boat and saw seven gorgeous women on deck he somehow found us a mooring.

It's great to be a woman. Especially a crowd of women.

Hooking up to the mooring, however, wasn't easy. We wrapped the sand line around the propeller (a first for our captain). Dewitt, suited up to jump overboard to unwrap the