A WINDY INDIAN ARM
I lost a third of my crew the moment we arrived at the boatyard. My middle son and second mate, Julian, took one look at the dark sky overhead and hid behind his mother’s skirt. I glanced at my oldest son and first mate, 10-year-old Emil, and said, “I’ll understand if you want to back out.” The previous month’s sinking of our other dinghy in these same waters had shaken up these two young but seasoned sailors—me as well. My wife said I had never looked paler than when I returned from that rotten day out on the water. Still, we had talked of this summer adventure—dinghy-sailing Vancouver’s Indian Arm—for years. Sergeant Dan (U.S. Air Force, Retired) had arrived to join us from Minnesota, and our gear (minus Julian’s backpack) was already piled beside the boat.
“Dad, I’m in,” said Emil after a moment’s pause, and we
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