More Summer 2010

Benjamin Peterson

Two or three years ago, as the wind pushed past 30 knots, Aaron Vincent asked BoPie if he’d cruise by the pier for some action shots. Ben, having windsurfed all morning reluctantly agreed. He looked tired. After fighting through that widow-making onshore Clubhouse break, Benny screamed past the pier ten or fifteen times. Vincent crouched on the pier, his legs curled under him at impossible angles, a plastic bag stretched over his ridiculous camera. Back on the beach, we watched as Ben crashed onto shore, exhausted. Someone ran into the water to grab his battered gear. Benny vomited all over his wetsuit and then fell onto his back. Chenzo got off his towel and causally strode down to the water. He looked over the collapsed snarfer. "Peterson . . . if you don’t get closer to the pier, I’m not even going to bother taking your picture. You’re just wasting my time here." As Penny McMorris once pointed out from the Yacht Club deck, this kid is an aggressive fucking windsurfer. Though not a born windsman like fellow Elk-Ideist AJ Tooley, or a rig-mauling beast like Pooh-Bear Sorensen, Bennay is still his generation’s premier talent. If in 2010 you glance out onto that cruel mistress of a lake in a blistering gale you will see Roland, Ted, maybe a McCaig - and this fella.


Matthew Macleod

Matt Macleod isn’t actually that short, but for some reason he seems like it. Maybe it’s because he’s weighed down by his gravitas. Whatever, it’s killer on a boat. This guy is quickly making a name for himself among the old bulls around the Yacht Club. On day last year Kenneth Taylor asked who the young bearded gentleman was. Someone said ‘Mittens’. Kenneth said I thought that guy was Mittens. 'No' we said, 'that’s Muffin'. KT looked confused. But KT always looks confused so don’t sweat it. Another individual coming off a hot curling season, Mr. Macleod was long rumoured to be looking to trade-up to a more prestigious boat. Those rumours have died off but insiders report there are negotiations ongoing between Mr. Macleod and his skip Ryan van Berkel as to who will be in command for 2010. The only certainty is that together, they are an almost frighteningly friendly team. So when that flag pole starts clanking annoyingly as a crisp wind slaps across the bay, look for Macleod’s Cheshire grin to be replaced by a slightly more conservative smile: it’s business time.