No Rolex watch to give out, but I've been thinking lately about how great some of the catsailors I know are as people - humans with humanity. I thought a good thread (and frankly a needed diversion with positive overtones) would be nominations for the "Hats-off" Award.

My nominee: Bob Klein

I was in Galveston for the F18 event. I had kinda a crappy week that worked me over a bit, mentally. One bright spot came when I was feeling particularly low. The wind had lightened and turned offshore, but the surf was still healthy. Tina and I were headed in at the end of a long day on the water. The static in my head distracted me and I let us get sideways in the shore break - by the time I collected myself and got through it, I realized that both daggers had slid off the tramp and were nowehere to be seen. We got the boat beached and began walking the surf line, looking for what I was sure would be a pretty beat up pair of boards.

Bob had ridden to the event with another sailor just to hang out for a day, hear some stories and make the party. We'd never met until that morning, though we'd corresponded a few times on other issues. I found him to be an earnest fellow with a good handshake.

As Tina and I were pulling up, Bob was there to lend a hand. When I told him we'd lost our boards in the surf, he rolled up his pants and started looking with us. We looked for quite a while, the three of us spread out and staring hard at the churned up water until we all started seeing things that weren't there.

Already feeling low, I'd just about given up, resigning myself to packing up the boat and heading home early with my tail between my legs. As I trudged along in waist-deep water, I wasn't seeing the great sunset, hearing sailors laughing, or feeling the fitful breeze in my hair. I was trying to imagine how I would explain to my wife that I needed to order a new pair of boards.

Eventually, Tina came across some tell-tale drag-marks in the sand that led to this old fisherman. There were our boards in nearly perfect condition - one little nick was all. Fella said it was the strangest thing he'd ever hauled in.

Finding those daggers let me pick up my head just enough to realize that Bob, who I'd only just met and for whom I'd never done a good turn, had hung with us the whole time we'd been searching. He'd eschewed the camaraderie of the fleet to wander up and down the beach listening to me berate my diminished intellect - couldn't have been fun for him. But he stuck around for an inordinately long time trying to help someone he barely knew.

Thanks, Bob - my hat's off to you. <img src="http://www.catsailor.com/forums/images/graemlins/wink.gif" alt="" />