I remember all the activity this event generated and standing in the village it looked like the lake was full of sailboats.
My memories of a certain ill-fated sailboat race.
On a cold and windy day, probably near the end of summer in the late 40s or early 50s, I was alone at Fall Brook Point. Out on the lake, I had seen a foreign buoy bobbing among the large white caps just a short way off the point.
I went out to the dock and spotted a group of sailboats to the North, probably originating ten miles away at the Country Club in Skaneateles, and I determined that Fall Brook Point was to be the turn-back point.
In a fashion, the leading sailboat appeared rather near shore and started the turnaround – and immediately flopped over. I went into the rescue mode, hurried into our biggest boat, and raced to scene. After rescuing the swimming sailor who was holding fast to a tow rope on his boat, I also fastened on the floating sails, and soon got my cargo all safely to shore.
While I was helping spread the sails out on the beach to dry, another sailboat appeared, turned (maybe into the wind?) and immediately also suddently flipped over that startled occupant, sails and boat.
So the exercise was repeated, and also several more times until the entire beach was covered with spread-out wet sails and both docks lined with tied-up, bobbing sailboats in that rough sea.
Soon the fireplace in the main camp was the huddle spot for more than several cold and soggy sailors. (I don’t think we yet had a phone line down from the road and of course, battery phones were not yet invented!) I don’t remember the ending to this memory, and probably all those sailors who could add more here are now off sailing heavenly seas.
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