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Published November 13, 2003
http://www.freep.com/news/mich/wind13_20031113.htm

WINDSURFING IN MICHIGAN: Dudes stoked for perfect wind and cold waves

BY SHERYL JAMES
FREE PRESS STAFF WRITER





It was late morning and Chris Lyons of Berkley was pumped. Outside, the
forbidding November weather looked promising: Cold, under 50 degrees, not much
sun -- and gale force winds blowing from the west over Lake St. Clair.


Great, Lyons thought.


He already had turned on the special weather radio station. On his cell, he
called the special number that reported real-time wind speed, gusts, direction
and air temperatures on Lake St. Clair. A recorded voice told him the wind was
blowing at 10 m.p.h., gusting to 20.


Oh, man, this was getting better by the minute. Lyons, 36, punched up his
cell-phone web browser to IWINDSURF. He went to "wind graph." Whoa! The bars
showed winds were spiking 15 to 25 m.p.h. farther out. Excellent! In a flash,
Lyons checked the isobar graph and the wind surface forecast map full of arrows
showing wind direction.


Wind direction was crucial. It would determine where Lyons -- who owns Acme Tube
Bending in Berkley -- would go, as soon as he could close up.


Destinations ranged from the St. Clair River at Marysville to Canada's Kettle
Point on Lake Huron, which offers the region's best waves -- 10 footers.


The data were clear: wind direction was west. Destination: Metro Beach.


Sure, it was cold, Lyons knew, but hey, it wasn't snowing. Besides, any Michigan
windsurfer worth his sweetwater -- sometimes used to describe Michigan's fresh
water -- knew that when the wind blows 15 to 25, it was windsurf time. While
Michigan is considered so-so for windsurfing, November isn't called shipwreck
season on the Great Lakes for nothing. November brings big wind.


Just before he went out to his custom-made trailer full of four windsurfing
boards, sails, booms, fins and masts, Lyons e-mailed the forecast to 12 other
guys, who all were e-mailing one another. And, like Lyons, they, too, were
punching up weather Web sites, calling up Web cams set up along Lake Huron, and
plotting job escapes.

Riding the storm out


They call themselves boardheads. They are mostly men, mostly old enough to know
better, who worship windsurfing and take to the water wherever the waves are
breaking, even in the most unthinkable weather. In this circle, cold is a
relative term -- and worth every good ride.


"I push it right to the limit of hypothermia," says Millard Berry, 55, of
Dearborn.


"Us die-hards stay out till the ice comes," says Walt Milke, 68, of St. Clair
Shores.


Craig McDowell, 51, of Chesterfield says he has sailed, as they call it, in snow
flurries. But even he has his limit.


"My cutoff is 48 degrees," he says.


These men (and one or two women) are a vanishing breed because younger
generations have taken to kitesailing, a cheaper, more flexible sport. At 36,
Lyons is one of the few thirtysomethings in this loose fraternity.


But windsurfers have in passion what they lack in youth and numbers. Going out
in November (in wet suits that can cost up to $400) is just one sign of this
addiction.


Some other signs:


Playing hookey: Most sailors have elaborate job-exiting strategies. One sailor
refers to his "20-knot clause" -- he leaves work when the wind hits that level.
Another guy, who drives a truck for . . . let's call it a telecommunications
company, had the "flexibility" to windsurf until the company put GPS systems on
the trucks. Bum-mer.


Investment: Sailors spend thousands for equipment and vehicles. Different
conditions require different sized boards and sails.


Exotic travel: Most serious sailors have visited well-established windsurfing
havens. Every year, one group makes a pilgrimage to Cape Hatteras in North
Carolina. Even better is Hood River, a town in Oregon on the Columbia River,
which offers unique, gorge-created funnel wind conditions.


Brent Mondry, 36, of Berkley, has traveled to the best spot of all: Maui.
Hawaii.


"They have 10- to 15-foot waves," says Mondry, a medical equipment sales
representative. "This is where all the professionals live and sail and all the
magazines go and take all their shots."


Like so many windsurfing enthusiasts, Mondry began sailing as a teen. He got
very good very quickly. Eventually he competed and considered going pro. Even by
13, windsurfing had become an obsession.


Therein hangs a tale.


It was a Saturday up on Little Traverse Bay near Petoskey, where his parents
owned a cottage. Mondry had been sailing about two months. One beautiful
Saturday, he hit the water about 8 a.m. The wind was good. He set off on a long
journey, and returned 10 hours later.


"I walked onto the beach and this detective walks up to me and said, 'Son, are
you Brent Mondry?' He drives me to my parents' house. There's like three squad
cars, two detectives. My poor mother is in tears over the kitchen table. They're
writing down a description, a sketch of me. The Coast Guard is out looking for
me.


"There was no more sailing for quite a while."

Hitting the beach


Chris Lyons made it to Metro Beach at 1:30 p.m. on the recent November outing.
The temperature was about 47 degrees, minus wind chill. He climbed out of his
vehicle and greeted two other boardheads, Berry, a photographer, and Bob McKean,
57, a retired photographer. Both were unsure if they would sail.


Keith was already on the lake. They call him Keith because that's how Keith
identifies himself, and first-name-only is not uncommon in this informal
fraternity. Keith, who looks to be in his 40s, had been out more than an hour.
He was wearing a full wet suit, hood -- and no gloves. Water temperature was 52.


"It looks a lot windier in town," Lyons said, concerned.


Lyons had his cell phone in one hand and binoculars in the other. He was calling
McDowell, who was waffling, given his 48-degree limit.


"Yeah, Craig," Lyons said, peering through the binoculars at the size of his
board. "Ah, Keith's out there on a six-oh. I've got the binoculars on him here
and he's flyin' -- there's no wave action but it's lappin' over. Oh, you're
still at work? You definitely have to get 500 yards out to get any wind. But
he's flyin'.


"Yeah, I'm goin'. I'm gonna rig a six-seven with my 115 meter."


McDowell, a millwright for Chrysler Corp. in Detroit, arrived just as Keith
finally sailed ashore after nearly two hours. Keith's face was ruddy. His hands
looked like watermelon.


"Goin' in?" Keith asked McDowell.


"I'm not sure. How is it out there?"


Keith grinned. "Like a bath."



Copyright © 2003 Detroit Free Press Inc.