Anticipating what was to come, five Nite racers (Bri and Tony among them) were on Pewaukee ice and set up by 8:30—in the morning, on Sunday. Shortly thereafter, the temperature rose above freezing and the wind began to build. But the five Nites got in two wild races, with me, on foot, as official starter and scorer.

Conditions were so wet and wild that everyone's face mask became water-logged, which made breathing difficult. The masks therefore had to be pulled down below chin, exposing skin, and after the second race most the five faces were bloody from the impact of flying ice chips.

Such is the sport.

As this was not an official club race or sanctioned regatta, we had to deploy our home-made marks (orange skirts by Mimi) for the first time ever since constructed over a year ago. Once tension on the bungee was adjusted properly they stopped blowing over, and served their purpose well.

By the end of the second race it was obvious that anything more would be suicide. The wind was screaming. And, of course, all the meltwater from the entire lake was being pushed down from west to east, and when we got back to the staging area by the launch ramp it was under four or more inches of water. Not to mention that parked trailers were being blown ashore.

We waded around ankle deep in what might factually be called ice water long enough to get the sails down and the boats on the trailer, but then hauled out and did the bulk of disassembly and covering-up in a parking lot somewhat sheltered from the gale.

Such is the sport. Then again, it's hard to imagine anything better.