Open house, open waters

The Baltimore Sun

In May 2005, a Bolton Hill photographer emotionally paralyzed by tragedy - he had recently lost his second wife to breast cancer, three years after his first succumbed to the disease - went to an open house at the Inner Harbor's sailing club.

"I was absorbed in my own grief," Allen Polansky said. "But as soon as I got on the boat, it was an instant change of focus, a way for me to reconnect with the world."

Yesterday, Polansky, 59, returned the favor. Along with other skippers of the Downtown Sailing Center, he took several dozen prospective sailors for free 40-minute tours of the Inner Harbor, in the hopes of interesting more Marylanders in the breezy pleasures - and unusual challenges - of tacking around a working harbor.

The 11-year-old nonprofit club holds several such open houses each summer as part of its mission to expand access to sailing. Founded in 1993 with four boats and a handful of sailors, the club's nearly 700 members now share 40 boats and offer sailing lessons, regattas and a summer camp.

Polansky's first guest aboard a 23-foot Sonar boat was chemist Mike Mikhael, 51, who moved to Baltimore several weeks ago from Arizona. Mikhael had not stepped abroad a sailboat but now lives in the HarborView tower on Key Highway, overlooking the sailing center's docks.

"I just came from the desert, so this is something new and interesting," Mikhael said. "I want to be part of the community."

"Well, this is an easy way to do it," Polansky interjected, as he and Carolyn Theiss, 38, hoisted the jib and mainsail. Theiss, an IT manager who has been sailing with the club for two years, hopes to be certified as a skipper by next month.

Moments later all three were under sail on the other side of the harbor, breezing past the Fells Point waterfront on a sharp heel, the wind providing natural air conditioning on a 90-degree day.

"When you're slicing through like this, it's the best," said a beaming Theiss. "The feeling of being on the water, the movement, it's very soothing ... "

"All right," Polansky interrupted from the stern, squinting up at fast-approaching land. "We're going to tack up here. Ready?"

Theiss grabbed the jib sheet, the line that controls the direction of the front sail. "Ready."

"Hard a-lee," Polansky called out.

As he and Theiss executed a neat turn, Mikhael kept his head below the swinging boom, mindful of Theiss' earlier warning: "It's called a boom because that's the sound it makes when it cracks your skull."

On the way back to the dock, Polansky had to skillfully tack around a 10-foot-long floating piece of timber.

Industrial flotsam, water taxis and aggressive power-boaters are not the only hazards in the crowded harbor. Two months ago, Theiss said she spotted from her boat the carcass of a dog floating in the murky green water.

"It was nasty," she said.

Polansky prefers to dwell on more picturesque moments. "There's a connection with the environment that you get when you're sailing," he said. "It's not unusual to be sailing around, the water turns silvery, and you find yourself in a school of fish."

Christopher Tom, an architect and sailor who moved to Baltimore from Boston last year, said he prefers the urban parts of the Chesapeake Bay to those of the Charles River. "It's a lot nicer here," he said. "There's a lot more space and more of the bay to explore."

Like many club members, Tom, 24, said he was drawn to the affordability of the sailing club.

Beginning sailors take a 15-hour course for $300, which includes a one-year membership to the club and access to boats and social events, which come with their own perks, Theiss said. "There's a lot of hooking up, a lot of dating."

After jumping back onto the dock, Mikhael said he was intrigued by the prospect of learning to sail. "Actually, it's nice," he said. "It's very enjoyable." He walked past Jeff and Kim Canavan of Columbia, who were patiently waiting in the sweltering heat for their turn around the harbor.

"We thought we were getting away from the humidity in Florida," said Jeff Canavan, a recent transplant from St. Petersburg. "Apparently not. But that," he added, gesturing to the white sails silently gliding by, "is why it's good to get out on the water."

gadi.dechter@baltsun.com

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