Sunday however, we got reacquainted. I've made the decision that by the time I'm 50 I'll know how to jibe (note the nice wide 9 month window!). So lessons will be booked, wet suits will get wet and I'll put in the effort (once and for all) to face the nemesis that I've twice used as an excuse to stop sailing.
After pulling the leaves and feathers out of my mast track, I was relived to find out I still remembered how to rig. Once on the water I worked on one simple thing, moving my feet out of the straps while carving into the turn. Oh man, do I have a lot to learn and nine months may be wishful thinking! I stalled, I was overpowered, my feet slipped, I didn't move my feet, the speed freaked me out and I dropped the sail, I got my feet in place but the sail wasn't, I unhooked too late, etc, etc, etc.
At this stage of the game the factors that come into play to not allow the jibe to occur are whoppingly impressive and my goal felt further away at the end of my session than at the beginning.
Still, despite all of the above it was great to tug on my neoprene, be back on the water, hooked-in, with my feet in the foot straps. Plus, I came in with a smile on my face, so there's hope for me yet to conquer the jibing beast.
Time to do my homework.