THE VIRGINIAN-PILOT
Copyright (c) 1996, Landmark Communications, Inc.
DATE: Sunday, August 4, 1996 TAG: 9608060150
SECTION: CAROLINA COAST PAGE: 52 EDITION: FINAL
TYPE: Editorial
SOURCE: Ronald L. Speer
LENGTH: 56 lines
Nothing is more humbling than a bolt of lightning.
The burliest woodsman drops his ax when the sky lights up. The longest-driving golfer abandons his clubs. The bravest dog scratches at the door, begging to come inside.
And the cockiest sailor on the seas quivers at the first bolt out of the blue.
Many a storm I've spent huddled out in the cockpit of the safely anchored Wind Gypsy in a drenching rain, disdaining a warm, dry cabin.
By putting up with rain, I could get about 15 feet from the 35-foot aluminum mast that pokes into the sky like a masochist demanding to be struck.
The mast sits atop the cabin. And when lightning draws nigh I want to be as far from that metallic spire as possible, even if it means a soaking.
Surprisingly, sailboats don't get hit by lightning very often. The Wind Gypsy never has. And she's ridden out many a storm. The water doesn't make a good ground, as I understand it.
There are two ways to deal with lightning on a sailboat.
One is to run a grounding wire of some sort to the water (some sailors just drop battery cables from the mast). The experts say that reduces the damage of a hit - but it may attract more strikes.
The other method (and my choice) is to do nothing. A strike may cause more damage - but the likelihood of a hit is reduced. This method requires an ability to pray quickly and fervently, and the willingness to sit in the rain until the storm passes.
Generally, I don't do a lot of evening sailing when it's hot and humid, the season our ancestors may have called ``the months when the skies light up at supper.'' I try to be safely in a harbor before 4 p.m., since most serious thunderstorms don't strike during the day.
Last Tuesday night I found a perfect spot to actually enjoy a long, sharp display of Mother Nature's power - a window table at a waterfront restaurant.
When you're safe, dry and comfortable, lightning is merely a giant offering of fireworks.
The winds blow. The once-calm waters quickly turn turbulent. And the night's alive with a dance of fire.
Crackling, straight-as-an-arrow blasts puncture the Earth like javelins thrown from the heavens.
Confused, out-of-focus sparklers look like fiery spaghetti strewn high in the sky.
Staccato bolts bristling with anger turn night into day and hammer the ears with a bam-bam-bam-bam sound seconds later, like a fireworks finale.
But in my serene ringside seat, none of them seem aimed at me, letting me safety enjoy the spectacle.
It was an awesome evening - and a chilling reminder that mankind's top efforts are still but puny imitations of the real thing. ILLUSTRATION: Staff color photo by DREW C. WILSON
Lightning by CNB