She Skims on Murky Waters

The stories are blood-curdling, these stories of water curdling.

Condoms floating in the waves that lap the shores of the Barcelona waterfront.

Dead dogs bobbing during the Olympic Flying Dutchman regatta.

Water so filthy that you can’t stand ankle-deep in it and see your toes.

So much sea sludge that daily chlorine bleachings are required in order to make the water presentable to the out-of-town yachting enthusiast.

Lanee Butler knows this water, better than most, for better or worse.

She has raced in it seven times during these Summer Games. She interacts with it, much more intensely than a dinghy skipper, who at least has a boat hull to protect himself from the toxic waves.

Butler, a UC Irvine student from San Juan Capistrano, is the United States’ first Olympic female windsurfer. She is competing in an event known as the Lechner A390, which, despite the horror stories going around, is not named after Hannibal.

What Butler does is stand on an oversized hollow surfboard attached to a 7.3-meter-square sail and skim this water, hopefully faster than the other 23 competitors, because you never can be sure about what might grab you out there and pull you in.

Well, Butler is here to assure the world that the rumors of liquid death have been exaggerated and that the waters of Barcelona are . . . well, she insists she has seen worse.

“All the press like to make it seem like it’s a nightmare out there,” Butler says. “Well, people are swimming here. If there was a serious problem, no one would be swimming in it.

“I haven’t had a problem. The trouble is, Barcelona has a sewage plant not too far from here and it dumps right into the ocean. That isn’t unique. But the Mediterranean is much smaller than the Pacific Ocean or the Atlantic Ocean and the sewage doesn’t dissipate as much.”

As for the tales of floating zoos and pharmacies, Butler likens them to urban myths, becoming more grandiose and grotesque with each recital.

“Oh, I’ve heard some wild ones,” she says. “The refrigerator in the water. And the rats. The rats keep getting bigger and bigger. Pretty soon, the rats will be eating the refrigerator.”

And the poor pooches who apparently failed in the exercise of dog-paddling?

“I’m sure there have been some dead animals,” Butler concedes. “But I see that everywhere. I see that back home.

“I’d be a little more worried if it was a dead person.”

Friday, Butler was prepared to jump in again for Round 8, out of 10, but poor wind conditions forced the postponement of the race. That’s twice now in five days.

When you surf by the wind, you throw yourself at the mercy of the wind.

After seven regattas, Butler is in eighth place, not bad by her standards (“I’m happy to be in the top 10”) but a disappointment to her coach.

“She could have medaled,” says Charlie McKee. “Because she’s one of the lighter women (Butler is 5 feet 3, 123 pounds), she races best in light winds--and Barcelona this time of year is known to have light winds.

“But it’s an extremely deep fleet and Lanee is younger (22) than most of the women here. Physically, and tactically, a windsurfer usually reaches her peak in her mid-to-late 20s.”

At this juncture, another question begs to be asked.

Windsurfing, an Olympic sport?

Sure, Butler says. It’s not what you think--more than just the background footage in an alcohol commercial, more than just the sport of the King of Beers.

“I think a lot of people liken it to surfing,” Butler says. “They see it and say, ‘Oh, that looks really easy. I can do that.’ Then they pick the board up and they can’t even stand up on it.”

Adrian Finglas, Butler’s boyfriend, chips in with a case example.

“Lanee has a friend,” he says, “who’s 40 and has been windsurfing for years. One day this guy walks up to her on the beach and says, ‘Hey, that looks really cool. Let me have a go at it.’ And this was a big guy, a really strong guy.

“Well, she gives him the board and he couldn’t even pick it up. Finally, he got it into the water and gave it a try. He drifted right into the rocks.”

And the Lechner board is a more difficult beast than most. The recreational windsurfer does his or her thing on a flat, solid board. The Lechner is longer and hollow, with a round hull and a slightly curved top.

“It’s like logrolling,” McKee says. “Extremely difficult to maneuver. A beginner wouldn’t be able to stand up on it.”

Butler and her world-class colleagues have to be able to stay afoot and afloat throughout regattas that can last as long as 90 minutes, through ever-capricious wind conditions.

In high winds, it can be hazardous sledding. This spring, during the world championships in Cadiz, Spain, Butler got stranded on her board when the wind kicked up unexpectedly.

“The conditions were out of control,” Butler says, “and there comes a point when safety becomes a factor. I had to be rescued. No way was I going to race in that. So what you do is drop your sails and wait for the boat to come and get you.”

Therein lies the main danger in windsurfing. Even in Barcelona.

The water isn’t as scary as its reputation, Butler claims. Given the chance, Butler would surf on that water any day of the week.

She just wouldn’t want to walk on it.