Happy Holidays!

Family and Friends, I hope this finds you all healthy and happy. In case you haven't picked up the word on the coconut telegraph, I'm in Colorado. With trailer loads of help from my family and friends (gracious applause), I weighed anchor in San Diego September 1 and transplanted to Steamboat Springs. As much as I love San Diego and all the friends and fond memories I've gathered there over 16 years, my craving for new experience has gotten the better of me, so here I am in the Rockies! Shortly after my spinal cord injury, nearly 4 years ago, I promised myself I would ski again someday...someday is here! Opportunity has led me to Casey's Pond, a top-notch skilled nursing facility near the base of Mt. Werner, the location of Steamboat Ski Resort. My brother Dan, his wife Clare, and their boys Caz and Soren live just down the road and have gone out of their way to welcome me to the community. It's a huge shift, coming from San Diego to a county where there are more livestock than people. I'm loving the fresh air and I can see the mountain from my window! I'm working with the in-house physical and occupational therapists, as well as the adaptive skiing instructors of the Steamboat Adaptive Recreational Sports (STARS) program, to get in shape and learn how to get down the mountain on a new (to me) type of ski gear, the Sit-Ski. I'm excited to take on this new challenge, and I'm grateful for the opportunity to learn a new version of my life-long passion. It's definitely humbling to be a beginning skier again, but re-connecting with the mountains is already producing positive impacts on my mind, body, and spirit. So that's the scoop- I'm thankful to be in a good place and I'm so very grateful to my family and friends for helping me get here. I wish all of you the very best this holiday season!

That Sinking Feeling

"It's not an adventure until something goes wrong." - Yvon Chouinard A sense of dread and a wave of adrenaline rushed through me when I heard the hollow crunch and crackle of the fiberglass hull caving in. We had been struck by another sailboat while maneuvering during the starting sequence of a regatta on San Diego Bay. I asked my brother Joe to lean over the side of the boat and tell me how big the hole was, and whether it was above or below the waterline. "Pretty big, and the bottom of it is underwater," he responded. I immediately put the boat onto a port tack, hauled in the main sheet in order to get as much heel as possible, and told Joe to lean toward the starboard side in hopes of keeping the rupture out of the water. We were sailing a beam reach back toward Harbor Island but I could still hear the water rushing into the hull. I had Joe rig the handle for the manual bilge pump, but told him to forget about it when I saw that the water was already ankle-deep and rising quickly. No way would the hand powered pump be able to keep up with the volume of water flooding into the boat, so I asked him to remove the handle as it might pin my leg if we needed to abandon ship. I glanced down and confirmed that I could access the bright yellow activation pulltab on my inflatable lifejacket, and cleared loose lines that could entangle me, just to be sure. As a quadriplegic, I'm keenly aware that my swimming ability isn't what it once was. As we made our way toward the marina, the boat progressively sank lower into the water. I felt the steering grow more sluggish and noticed our boat speed was dropping rapidly. My crew was not pleased by any of this. I assured Joe that, theoretically, the boat shouldn't completely sink. I informed Joe that the builders of the Martin 16 had incorporated buoyant foam into the construction of the hull (good call Mr. Martin!) to keep the boat and crew afloat in case of our exact situation. Of course, that's not to say that the boat couldn't be swamped- by the time we reached the calm water behind the breakwall at the marina, we had zero freeboard (the hull was completely awash and waves were lapping across the deck). The Challenged America support boat came along side and took our 16' bathtub under tow. Now sitting in chest deep water, the air cushion I was sitting on began to float, lifting my body beyond my control, and I became concerned that I might simply float overboard. I asked Joe to pull the cushion out from under me and hold me in place in my seat so that I could continue to steer the boat. When we approached to within a few hundred feet of the dock, I asked the support boat to bring us alongside so that they could better control the boat in the tight spaces of the marina. Made up on the crash boat's hip, we crept toward the dock, then Joe stepped off the boat with the docklines, and we found ourselves home safe, not exactly sound, and very soggy. I'd like to commend and thank the volunteer staff of Challenged America, and especially my crew/ brother Joe. Everyone responded to the incident appropriately and what many would have treated as a calamity went down as a glitch in an otherwise pleasant day. Besides, although I feel horrible about the damage to the boat, it was one of the most interesting afternoons I've had in a long while.

2012 US Disabled Sailing Championships

October 25, 2012: It's Thursday morning and the dining room at Southwestern Yacht Club is packed. Betsy Alison, Coach for the US Paralympic Sailing Team, is putting on a racing clinic for the competitors in the Rolex National Championship Regatta. As Betsy's marker squeaks across the dry-erase board, I gaze around the room in admiration. Disabled sailors have gathered from across the country, and they have brought with them an impressive variety of adaptive technology. State-of-the-art prosthetic limbs and ultra-light sport wheelchairs fill the room. One sailor drives her power-chair (and her sailboat) with a joystick controlled by her chin. Amputation, muscular dystrophy, spinal cord injury, ALS...whatever disability qualifies each of us for this regatta, we are all sailors, and we're here to race. Some competitors are old hands with years of experience. Other sailors, including myself, are relatively new to organized sailboats racing. Today is a practice day and we are sailing a few short races so competitors can get a feel for their boats, crews, and for the Racing Rules of Sailing. The Racing Rules the of Sailing is 172 pages of nautical legalese that dictates how sailors conduct a regatta. The RRS are quite comprehensive (right down to how much clothing you may wear (Rule 43.1(b): no more than 8 kilograms!) and they give sailors plenty to think about (because maneuvering a sailboat in close proximity to dozens of other moving boats isn't enough), especially when sailing back to the yacht club with a fresh hole in the side of the boat. At any time other than a race, the behavior of racing sailors would certainly be considered reckless. Anchor a committee boat in the middle of the fray, however, and all of a sudden, an inconsiderate, imprudent sailor becomes a bold tactician. Don't get me wrong - I'm not complaining. Racing is fun and it's the only time you can sail this aggressively and not get cited by the Coast Guard.

October 26, 2012: The first day of actual racing and we arrive at the marina to find all the flags hanging straight down - not a breath of wind to fill our sails, thanks to the Santa Ana weather pattern that has developed. High pressure over the Southwestern US has pushed hot desert air into the area and my teammate Ryan is sweating as he paddles us out toward the race venue (Sorry bro, if I could hold a paddle I would). The race committee has postponed the noon start for lack of wind, but the breeze starts to fill in around 1pm. We manage to get in two races before the 4pm cut-off and Ryan and I notch a 4th and a 2nd in the heats, leaving us in a respectable 3rd place overall...we are cautiously optimistic.

October 27, 2012: Saturday, our second day of racing and we are excited to get out there and grab some bullets (1st place in a heat). The beautiful weather has inspired every possible boater in San Diego to get out on the water. San Diego Bay is churning with the boat wakes of excursion vessels,navy warships, and large power-yachts and the tiny Martin 16 is bobbing about like a rubber duck in a bathtub. To save time, the race organizers have towed most of the fleet out to the racecourse. The wind is more cooperative today, but our boat is not. I find the steering very stiff and I struggle to make the minute course corrections that can mean the difference between a fast close-hauled reach and luffing sails. After two good starts we are frustrated to see our competitors leaving us in their wake. We sail past a safety boat and ask them to inspect our underwater appendages... our suspicions are confirmed: somewhere along the way we have snagged some kelp with our bulb keel. We back the boat down, lose the cursed seaweed, and sail the third and final race of the day. Two 5ths and a 4th knock us down to fifth overall. Cursed Seaweed.

October 28, 2012: After a last-minute adjustment to the tension in the steering lines that connect my joystick helm to the boat's rudder, I was both elated and infuriated. The boat now steered the way it should and I was kicking myself for having not fixed it yesterday. The wind was very light today and, unlike the previous few days, was expected to stay light (10 knots or less). A handily sailed 2nd place in the first heat had our spirits up- I was thrilled to have good helm control and we were sailing well. And then the wind dropped. We drifted around the marks until the tide carried us sideways across the finish line into 4th place for the heat. We improved to 4th place overall for the regatta, finishing just shy of the podium. Nonetheless, I had fun, finished every race, avoided injury/drowning, met some inspiring people, and took home a cool hat. I look forward to applying all I learned (which was more than I expected on many levels) at the next race. I can't adequately express my gratitude and admiration to Southwestern Yacht Club, US Sailing, Challenged America, and the crew of volunteers that made this event happen. Without people and organizations like you, a lot of sailors like me would be stranded, watching regattas from the beach. Thank you!

It Begins With a Twitch

Slow progress is better than no progress. In the 19 months (time flies) since my injury, my left hand has shown no signs of motor control-until now! Confirmed by my PT, I'm getting minor flexion in my fingers when I attempt to form a fist. Recovery may not come in leaps and bounds, but I'm grateful for it however it comes. As long as I keep seeing improvement, I'm motivated to keep working at it...there's no knowing what else will come back!

STRAP IN!

I wanted to do something special for my brother Joe on his birthday. We had visited the Torrey Pines Gliderport for a scenic lunch a few days earlier and he had been pretty excited watching the gliders fly back and forth along the bluffs and out over the sea. I was determined to turn his "I want to do that!" into "I've done that!"  Having paraglided 14 years ago in Utah, I knew what an amazing experience Joe was in for. What I had not planned on was going up for a flight myself.

While I was waiting for Joe to complete his paperwork I was approached by the facility owner, Robin, who asked if I wanted to fly. Knowing next to nothing about what is involved in a tandem paraglider flight, I immediately convinced myself that sending a quadriplegic aloft had to be a royal pain in the ass.
"Don't worry- it's a piece of cake," Robin assured me, "we'll have you up before your brother finishes his paperwork- and your flight's on me." How could I refuse?






I drove my chair out on to the grassy slope that serves as the launch and landing pad for the gliderport, followed Robin to a lawn chair and parked beside it. A seat harness was spread out across the chair and Robin, along with a staff member, easily transferred me from one chair to the next. Four metallic carabiner-clicks, a couple of pulls on reinforced nylon straps and I was ready. Bob my instructor, who had already launched his wing and was "kiting" it over his head effortlessly, casually walked over and connected my harness to his riser assembly. Almost instantly, I felt myself being lifted from the chair as the wing took up the combined load of Bob and myself. We bobbed around a bit like bull-riders in the gate as Bob adjusted to the increased load. Then Robin and another staffer walk/jogged with us to help stabilize the load and 15 feet later we were airborne!

I had to remind myself to breathe as the bluffs dropped away beneath us and I found myself 500 feet above the Pacific surf rolling up onto Black's Beach. As the sea breeze comes off the ocean and hits the Torrey Pines bluffs, the airflow is channeled up.This vertical air movement is what enables gliders to remain aloft for extended periods of time, as long as the wind keeps blowing. We circled around for the photographer, who was standing at the edge of the cliff with his camera snapping these photos, and a few minutes later Joe was aloft and flying next to us with his instructor Ki.

Imagine my delight when Bob asked me if I wanted to drive! Despite my limited hand function, I was able to slip my fists through the straps of the brake lines and hook them with my wrists. Bob pointed out some landmarks to steer for to ensure that I kept us in the air flow as we traveled along the bluffs. Whenever we felt lift, Bob told me to circle back so that we could gain more altitude.  We flew back and forth along the bluffs, climbing with the up-drafts, descending occasionally in a spiraling turn before catching and riding another column of air back up to altitude. At one point I heard laughter above and looked up to see Joe reaching out and grabbing the tip of our wing. Icarus had nothing on us!

20 minutes later and entirely too soon, Bob informed me that it w as time to head back and land. We circled around behind the glider port so that we could make an up-wind approach into the landing zone.  Bob eased us back to Earth and we touched down with no more force than if he had stepped off an escalator. I found myself sitting in the grass, smiling ear to ear, knowing that I would come back and do this again!

Thanks to Robin and all the folks at Torrey Pines Gliderport!

June 11, 2012

Wow! I can't believe how quickly time has passed since my last post. It's been a busy seven weeks! My brother Joe has moved here from Michigan and we are now roommates sharing an apartment just a few blocks from where I had been staying with Molly and Charlie. We are all on the edge of our seats with anticipation as the Colvins' new tenant will be here any day!
 
Joe has started sailing with Challenged America and will soon be certified as a companion sailor- a key member of the team, as every disabled sailor in the program relies on an able-bodied crew to ensure safety. It doesn't take long to realize how small and slow a Martin 16 is when you've got Navy warships and large merchant vessels steaming past on the bay! We had a great sail last Saturday and Joe has already proven himself a capable crewman. We are looking forward to some great sailing this season...go Team Berkey!

April 25, 2012

I extend my heartfelt thanks to Challenged America and the Chula Vista Yacht Club for putting on the first annual "Dash to Chula Vista" this past weekend. The entire Challenged America fleet of eight Martin 16's competed in a two day race series from Harbor Island to Chula Vista and back again. I'm happy to say that my shipmate Dave Meyer and I took first place in the south-bound Race 1 on Saturday! Unfortunately, my performance was lackluster Sunday (7th place), but we were pleased to take home a trophy for third place overall.
     Much more important than trophies, however, is the experience of getting out of the water and sailing! In the fleet, we had paraplegic sailors, quadriplegic sailors, deaf sailors,and blind sailors- we ALL had a great time. It couldn't happen without a lot of hard work by a generous group of volunteers. For each sailor in the competition, there were three or four volunteers working to rig the boats, assist the sailors in and out of the cockpits, put on post-race parties, and clean up the entire mess when we finished.
    Special thanks go to my friend/tactician/bodyguard/chauffeur Dave Meyer. I can't thank him enough for not giving me more flak as I sit idly on the dock, watching him rig/de-rig our boat each time we go out sailing. Did I mention that he has not once dropped me in the water? Dave, you are the man!
    I hope to have some photos to post soon!