Last night, I went back to the club to fix the broken tack fitting. I think I've found something more fun than building boats: fussing over them while lying to a mooring. Working out on the lake is so much more pleasant than the workshop; it's almost like combining building with sailing. The weather last night was just as beautiful as it had been on Sunday, and while it's a shame that I couldn't be out sailing, it was quite pleasant to sit on my foredeck with a chisel, scraping the goop off the bow. Fortunately, I had thought to add a stern mooring cleat (and Shrike is a double-ender), as the tack fitting doubles as a guide for the mooring or anchor line when mooring by the bow.
I finished the repair shortly after sunset. The wind outside the breakwall had built to about 20 knots or so, and the red of the sunset was still reflecting off the cloud bottoms toward Oakville. I stood on the deck, amidships, and was suddenly transported back twenty years to the evenings I spent sailing J/24s in Erie, remembering the feel of the cool wind on my body, and the light of the fading twilight, and the roll of the waves, and the smell of evening on the Great Lakes. I had come home again.
(For Toronto people, Shrike is moored offshore between the Boulevard Club and the Ex grounds, just offshore from the PriceWaterhouse and FedEx vegetation billboards along the Gardner. She's the little green boat with two masts next to the dragon boats.)