I started my enjoyment of this cat as a boy, my father owned one as did many of his friends. We lived close to a large dam that gave us more space than we needed, and the wind guarantee. As a youngster my Dad would set up the Hobie, and I would do what was physically possible to help.

Once rigged and ready to sail the wait would begin. The beer would be opened, cola for me, and the older men would begin their normal chatter of winds and set ups. None of them being experts the discussions would be long, and to me tiresome. But the reaction when the sails of the Hobie clattered, beers flew, chairs upended, safety jackets donned and a dash for the “cats”. Get the catamaran in the water, more important than anything else. I was the crew for Dad, controlling the Jib sail, playing with tension and tautness, till the indicators on the sail showed I had it right.

The biggest excitement, to don a “Nappie” and connect to a trapeze wire, extending my body outside the cat and hanging, feet on the cat and body suspended inches above the water. The speed of the Hobie exaggerated by the proximity to the water. Don't get me wrong, the Hobie 16 is one of the fastest cat's on water, and when the wind was right, Dad would pull in the main sail and “fly a hull”. This, the highlight of the day, not only for me, Dad's grin attested to his. There where dangers involved, a tip, or turn over, with the sails below the water, requiring my fathers massive weight to right. Pitch poles, when the nose of one of the hulls digs into the water, the result, equal to driving into a wall. The Hobie would stop and roll, tail over end, sending passengers in all directions.

Somehow this happened often on Dad's Hobie, I now know why, it's called pushing the limits, trying to get more speed than possible. I remember one occasion when this happened. Dad and I both attached to trapeze wires, and the old man trying for too much, calling for a tightening of the jib sail, which I did, you didn't argue with my Dad, and it happened. I fell into the mainsail breaking my fall, but Dad, well the language cannot be repeated here. He headed forward at great speed, hooking his foot on a “stay wire” and looking like a tumbler in the air, 3 metres above the water. I knew when he emerged from the depths, I heard “ @%&^%, that was lekker” (lekker an Afrikaans word for nice, enjoyable). Righting the cat after a fall is tiring and difficult, bit as the wind was howling, it was up and at it again in record time.

Dad loved his Hobie, as did I, and our sailing was a weekend occurrence, enjoyed at every opportunity during the summer. We partook in regattas, some with hilarious results but this I will leave for another article, suffice it to say, I enjoyed the outings and the camaraderie built with Dad. I now own a Hobie, and I'm making my own memories, but those with Dad and Mom will stay with me forever.