Well, now I have a boat story to tell like all the big kids do. Up to now there was nothing I was willing to admit to. Due to capricious winds and what we thought was a bad battery , we had a rough start as we left Goose Harbor Marina, and a rough entry into the new marina. I had clearly directed the mechanic two days before to check the batteries and have me ready. He found the port battery was weak but neglected to tell me about it. It turned out that that battery was not worst problem however; the prongs on the electrical cord connected to the shore power were faulty and the battery just wasn't being charged. A neighboring boat Captain jumped on board and got me started by switching power from the starboard to port engine so I sat there awhile running the engines til my erstwhile crew arrived. It was an interesting conglomerate. I had a captain on each side of me, one wife and two young adults; all of whom knew bookloads more than I, with the experience to back it up. This was a crew that could justifiably mutiny. My nerves were already shot by then and I would have been happy to let them. They were all over the place tracking down the problem and trying to get the blankety-blank chartplotter to crank up, which it never did. We knew we had fair enough weather, just needed to go out to the bay and head south for the Bay Bridge, so that's what we did essentially, checking landmarks as we went. NOT before the most embarrassing and really scary ( at least to moi ) turn of events occurred. I had practiced over and over in my head the necessary gear, rudder, and throttle maneuvers for leaving the slip and even had directed the crew what to do by email the week before. The wind had been busily increasing and as we slipped past the piling, I did what I'd been taught for the turn to port in the middle of the fairway. The wind snapped it's gusty fingers and I was blown in a circle to starboard and shore. Not what was wanted by far. The captain on my left, whose power boat piloting skills are the absolute best, jumped into the fray, got us slowly back into the wind and out to the channel toward the bay. It took several subsequent emails before I visualized exactly how he did that. It was an elegant solution of setting the gears, holding the rudder hard to port, but mainly using extra power on the port engine (that was in reverse) without allowing the boat any forward motion. Good idea since we had a foot or two between us and a lovely yacht in front. It is odd to say that you sorta have to ignore things like that to some degree or you'd never go boating. Rather, you would spend your days alone in a bar muttering to yourself. You may end up doing that anyway and only have enough money for that one beer.
Then it all ended, all that trouble. The wind was behind us and we flew, or so it seemed to me. I had never dared to ramp it up before and I got to. At one point I handed over the helm to the "port captain", climbed down the ladder from the flybridge to the cockpit and stood looking at the wake. "Wow this is better than the Titanic", I thought and added quietly to myself, "at least I sincerely hope so".
I learned planing, trim, how to sit over to the side, back to the bow on top of the cup holder and using the gears, aim the boat to a point on the land- stern first-though it didn't help that someone (nameless) had left a screwdriver next to the cup holder, but one "adjusts" to small inconveniences. Quickly, I might add.
I learned how to do a man overboard drill when someone (nameless) threw "Wilson" my favorite fender off the stern and yelled MAN OVERBOARD. No time to gasp in maidenly dismay when someone pulls a stunt like that. Just follow the plan and go get it. I was astounded when we did.
The Bay Bridge loomed up ahead and I was so relieved. We'd made it and nobody died. Nor had the boat done badly. BUT it wasn't over yet. The wind had been lying in wait and began shoving me over in the channel as we made the turn after the bridge into the new marina. Oh great. Again, my port captain took over and he struggled with the North winds, the crew heaved themselves over the side to the dock to begin hauling my rollicking horse into the paddock- as it were. It was so tough to see one of my very best friends out on the dock holding one line with all her might ( Which was considerable! I thought the Green Bay Packers might want her next season.) and she held fast while my "starboard captain" rigged and threw a longer line to her. His seamanship skills were all the way along, remarkable. I do believe, however, that he was the brains behind the fender throwing stunt.
They were all heroes to me. My a-- saving, port captain, my good friend and her husband (the starboard captain) and the kids, ( not quite appropriate given that they were in their early twenties) seemed to explode into action when we could get near the dock. What a day. I was stunned, numb, grateful to the ground, the good ol' ground, and so childishly happy. My first big ride.
Copyright: May 31, 2008. Please refer to Blog 81 and 82 (as soon as they are in place) for defintions of boating terms. ( apt and "inapt")
