Little Water Buggy: Fishing on the Briny

The gray-blue beast that is my Atlantic Ocean. I can't tell you how many times I've referred to it as that, in my letters to the editor, in op-eds, in conversation. It's funny that it never occurred to me to use that expression in the blog until my last post. Maybe I was just afraid to remind myself of what a beast the ocean can be. Rather strange. Rather Freudian. Dontchathink?

Anyway, I'm starting to lose track of the trips! That's a good thing, I guess. It means I'm getting out there in the boat. I really should get on the stick (or keyboard), though, and start writing up each trip right away.

No matter. I'm thinking the world won't come to an end if I mix up a loading-the-trailer episode with a backing-into-the-driveway episode.

Back to our series...

It's "cavitation" not capitation! Thank you Andy J for letting me know that. Cavitation: 1. successive formation and collapse of bubbles in liquids by mechanical forces, as from a ship's propeller. 2. a pocket formed by this action [from the Oxford American Dictionary].

Except...that sounds like what a propeller's SUPPOSED to do, doesn't it? Ah well. Onto the next adventure.

We went fishing! Tammy S and her friend Scott W brought all their fishing gear and know-how and we went fishing. They usually fish off the causeway or from shore somewhere and wanted to get out away from the land a bit. I wanted to catch fish...to eat them.

So, we made plans to get out there. They came by with all manner of poles and bait and gear and loaded up that little boat. Then we headed out the driveway.

I backed the trailer down without much drama and Scott helped me figure out how deep to go and all that. Scott's a big guy, so he helped. Plus, he's had boats before so he was able to combine know-how with strength. Again, getting it off the trailer wasn't a big deal.

I was still pretty shaky on the motor, though. But, by that point, I had stopped trying to figure out how to back all the way to the dock and swing the back around and all that. I backed off the trailer a little way and then flipped the motor into forward and swung around back to the dock. There's a pretty high rock just to the south of the ramp, but it's got a bunch of seaweed on it, so even though it's usually submerged, you can see it easily enough.

I swung around and we tied up. I moved the car and we were off.

Ever since I started hanging out at the landing with Jimmy and those guys, they told me the closest and best place to fish near Hoppy's Landing. You want to know where it is, don't you? Well, to be honest, I just typed up a description and then deleted it. It's every fisher for himself (or herself) out there....the guys told me, but I'm quite sure they didn't want me blabbing it all over the Internet. Come see me in person and I'll tell you where it is.

Anyway, we anchored out there and started fishing for stripers and bluefish. Unfortunately, something kept stealing our bait. A good guess was scup. So we faced a choice: head out to deeper water and try catching the bigger fish, or switch bait and tackle to go for scup. I like scup just fine, so we switched.

In a matter of just a few minutes we had a keeper (at least 10.5"). I didn't have anything to measure (oops), but Scott fishes all the time, so he just kind of measured it out by his hand.

Then he said....are you ready for this? Hold your breath...

"No blood, it can go back."

Excuse me? Go back where?

In the water. We don't keep them.

Say what? You don't keep what?

The fish. We don't keep the fish. We throw them back.

THROW THEM BACK? NOT FROM MY BOAT! I thought you said you had a cooler with ice and everything.

Yeah, for drinks. We have drinks in the cooler.

Don't you dare throw that fish back. 

Okay [looking a little scared, all 312 pounds of him].

So, he grabbed the anchor bucket and filled it halfway with water and threw that baby in.

I fish to eat, not to play.

But play we did, too. We had a great spot. We caught 18 keepers and a bunch of smaller ones that we had to throw back.

While we were out there, I took a moment to look around and take in the scene as we sat anchored in one spot, fishing and just chatting a little. The ocean stretched out to the Elizabeth Islands, people were on the beaches, kids were jumping off the causeway (shhh...don't tell the harbormaster), the hot sun shining from above, the cool ocean below. We were pretty close to shore. Honestly, if we sank, we'd probably only have to swim for a 100 feet before we would've been able to walk to shore. But we were still on the water, and it was a beautiful thing.

Until that idiot/moron/fool/jerk/bully/asshat of boater swamped us. We were not in the main thoroughfare (if there is one there), there was plenty of room off to the east for the big boat to head into Hoppy's Landing without coming within 100 feet of us. And, there was NO reason for him to be going that fast, unless it was to knock us around on purpose. We could see him coming from a distance, but at his speed there was no way to pull the anchor so we could maneuver out of his way.

We watched him come, in 20 or 30 very long seconds. I put out may hands and said "what are you doing?" I couldn't see the captain in his little cabin, but the other people on the boat, particularly one person on deck near the stern, looked right at me with a "what's your problem" look. I was pretty damned mad.

They flew by us just a few feet away, and a huge wave from their wake dumped a bunch of water onto our bow. Scott, the big guy, was sitting there fishing and got soaked. Tammy and I were in the middle of the boat. That poor Little Water Buggy took a bit of a nose dive into that wave, but then to my relief, it popped back up. The water slid to the stern and we were okay. I was watching Scott and the water. By the time I looked up to catch the name of the boat, they were way too far away. I don't know how fast they were going, but they kept up that speed. We kind of hoped they would get hung up on the sandbar for some kind of poetic justice, but they didn't. They did send those bigger boats at Hoppy's to straining against their mooring lines, though. The amount of water wasn't as much as it had seemed when it came over the bow. It settled into the little well near the plug, but didn't need to be bailed out.

I can't even tell you how angry I was. Those little creeps on that boat never even looked back to see what their wake did to us.

On that same day, several other boats went right by us, all much bigger than us. Some had been tooling along at a speed, then slowed down when they saw us. Some had been just chugging out from shore anyway, and kept it slow until they passed us.

I learned in my USCG Auxiliary class that anchoring for fishing does not make us the stand-on vessel (the one that does not have to get out of the way). Really? Really? So, who makes up these rules? How the heck am I supposed to get out of the way if I'm anchored? On the other hand, all boaters are responsible for their wakes. Big deal, that'll show HIM as we get tossed around and dumped.

So, what I've learned so far in class is that it's all just....don't hit each other and you'll be fine. That's okay, USCG Auxiliary. I knew that part.

I wish we had gotten the name of that boat. I'm not sure what I would've done with the information, but you can bet your last cent it would appear here in this blog.

But, alas, we didn't.

We also didn't sink. And that's a good thing.

So, we kept fishing, and catching scup: 18 fish, 3 people, that's six each. Not bad for a couple of hours of work. Except Tammy and Scott didn't want theirs. Turns out Tammy never even ate a scup. But we fixed that.

I knew my sister-in-law would be thrilled when she learned we had 18 scup. She's from Lebanon and really appreciates fresh fish. My sister and her husband were still staying at the cottage on Goulart, so I knew we'd all enjoy the harvest from my Atlantic Ocean.

So, I took the 18 fish to the cottage. My brother-in-law cleaned them and my sister-in-law cooked them.  She fried them in the fryolator. She didn't even scale them, just have to peel the skin off after and....oh, they were yummy. We had all kinds of cool side dishes, much of it made with vegetables from their own gardens.

Now that's island living.

Little Water Buggy: With Nephew Sam

Okay, I admit it. Sometimes I just stand in my driveway and look at my Little Water Buggy. I sometimes peek over my shoulder to make sure no one sees me doing it. I mean, really, it's just a little 15-footer with the steering wheel cut out and no seats, no cushions, no sideboards, and no....some other stuff that was obviously cut out. Not sure what that stuff was, but it's all gone. The motor is 31 years old and only 25HP with a torn up prop and a Parkinson's shake, and it does a thing the guys call "capitating" that I can't find in any dictionary...at least as it relates to boats.

But it's all mine. It's in my driveway, and I think it's a thing of beauty. (Shh....don't tell Hoppy how much I like the thing.)

So, where were we? Ah yes...trip #4, with my nephew Sam.

I told you all how I had that beat up old Evinrude "Sweet 16" in the yard. When it first got there, my sister's kids were very young (all three under the age of 10 I think). They used to crawl all around it, jump up and down on it. They were very excited for me to get it in the water. So was I.

I imagined being the cool aunt who introduced them to fishing off the boat, puttering around the bay, and learning to appreciate the great grey-blue beast that is my Atlantic Ocean.

The kids even took the basic boating class, the one for free that was offered on West Island. They knew more about boats than I did. They got their boat licenses. You only need one if you're younger than 16, I think. They were.

As the years went by and the boat didn't get in the water, the kids got older and my great plan to be the one to introduce them to boating and fishing on the ocean, and exploring the bay just sort of grew away with them.

Then the boat got junked. The kids all became teenagers, two of them driving, the third one almost driving.

Finally, I got the little water buggy in the water. My nephew Sam, the middle child, was heading off to college, and none of the kids had been in the boat yet. I texted him (the preferred method of communication for the under 25 set), and told him it was his last chance to get on the boat. We made plans for the day before he was leaving for college.

When he got to the house, I was pretty much ready to go. It was a little later in the morning, but the wind hadn't picked up yet, so we took off.

Launching the boat was easy with someone helping. I still had a little trouble shoving it off the trailer. I still hadn't gotten the hang of really shoving it hard. The old motor still kept trying to pop up in reverse, but I was ready for it, and held it down as I backed off the trailer.

I parked the car as Sam stayed on the dock with the boat. As I walked back toward him, I became vaguely aware of a weird sound. I couldn't really identify if, I just knew it was a bit off. It was a warm day, people were on the beach, the boat ramp had the usual sounds, but there was something else.

As we untied from the dock I recognized the sound, but hoped I was wrong. I realized it was a motor getting revved up, and again, and again, and very close by: someone was stuck on the sandbar.

Oh, the countless times that Jimmy and I sat by the shack drinking a beer and watching people get stuck, and unstuck on the sandbar.

As I puttered by them, they waved me down and called out.

Uh oh. You want ME to help YOU?

Surely you jest. Do you know who you're talking to here? Er... I don't mean that in the way it's usually said. Honest. I mean, you really ought to be careful who you ask for help.

Besides, you're two feet from the dock....you'll be fine. Just fine.

Their boat was a lot bigger and heavier than mine. Their motor alone weighed more than my whole set-up. Two people were on the boat, older, Asian, and speaking with accents. Neither one was dressed for IN the water. The back end of their boat was sitting firmly aground on the sandbar. Somehow the motor was still in the water and they were cranking it up to move the boat. Wasn't happening.

They asked me to throw them a line.

Okay, new situation, not sure what to do, but I knew I wasn't throwing anyone a line.

I looked at my nephew and told him we had to help them. I mean, really, we were only a few hundred feet from the dock. It's not like I was leaving them stranded out in the sea. But I still thought there was some sort of rule, or at least understanding, that I wasn't supposed to leave them there.

Although I admit I was tempted to just chug off waving and smiling and saying, "beautiful day, isn't it?"

But I didn't.

I started circling in the mooring field, still a little shaky on the tiller, the old motor being a good boy and doing just what it was supposed to do. But there was no way I was going to try to pull that boat off the sandbar with my Little Water Buggy.

All I could think of was my poor little 25 HP, 1981 motor getting burnt out trying to pull him off the sandbar. Honestly, how does that happen? I'm no expert, but the sandbar as you leave Hoppy's is so obvious. The water is a different color, you can see the bottom. It's marked with a big red buoy. How do you miss that?

Maybe they steer like I do. Remember the mooring line (see post 1).

The man asked again if I'd throw him a line. I didn't say anything. I just pictured that big boat flying at me as it broke free of the sandbar and headed straight for my boat. Remember reverse? I can't DO reverse. I'd get all smashed up. Suppose he doesn't let go of the line? Suppose he ties it on his end?

Anyway, I have an extra line, a long one. I thought maybe we could throw that to him, and then we could let go on our end. All the while I'm explaining my hesitation to my nephew and circling in the mooring field.

We could just keep circling here talking to them until the tide comes up.

Or I could call the Harbormaster. Yeah, I'll call the Harbormaster. Sam, get my phone please, it's in the dry bag.

My nephew suggested that he jump off, swim over to them and push them off.

No, you'll never get back in the boat. I have no ladder.

The 18-year-old athlete assured me, "Oh, Aunty. This boat is so low in the water. I can get back in. We swim off Uncle Andy's boat in Maine all the time."

Okay, but stay away from that huge motor in the back, it'll chop you to bits (as the big motor continued to rev on and off, on and off).

So he jumped off, swam over and started to push the boat from the side. As soon as they saw him swimming towards them, they turned off the motor. That was good. Now, I don't know how big that boat was, maybe 20+ feet. The rail was above Sam's head as he pushed. And that boat wasn't going anywhere.

Then a couple of teenage girls from the beach walked along the sandbar and helped. The three of them were able to push it off. Sam swam back to our boat and we took off quickly, before they got stuck again.

Trip #4 and we helped someone else. Go figure.

Then we headed out to the point, but changed our minds and headed back under the causeway. I let Sam take the tiller and we headed out around Bella Vista Island. It was a clear day, with a bit of a breeze, but not choppy. We decided to head all around West Island, something I hadn't done yet.

Sam handled the boat really well. I kind of enjoyed sitting on a crate and just watching. It was definitely different. At some point I just had to notice how comfortable he looked sitting on the console (the part I think vibrates too much) and kind of hunched over just a tad, with his hand loosely on the tiller as he looked forward and we talked.

He kept the speed constant and steered with confidence. Not the up and down speed I do with the boat swinging all around from port to starboard as I figure out anew how the backwards action works each time I grab the tiller.

Why do you look so comfortable at the tiller?

Oh, Aunty, Uncle Andy and Randy have boats in Maine. We've been using them since we were little.

Oh. I knew that?

Anyway, Sam saw the lobster buoys out there and we talked about how he can get a 10-pot license. I told him it was way beyond my energy level, but if he wanted to try it next year, he could use my boat.

We chugged along the east side of West Island. Someone was out there fishing. He said he was having no luck, and we believed him because he didn't look too happy and he was pulling up to leave.

We stayed close to the island because it was getting a little windy. There are lots of rocks, though, so you have to be careful if you get too close.

We thought we were way off away from the beach as we rounded the southern point. I was rock spotting and was really surprised at how many rocks are so far out there. My neighbor George had tried to explain to me how there is a whole big line of rocks heading out to the big buoy out there (it has a name, really it does....I'm taking a course...really I am).

We didn't hit any rocks, but it was quite the education to see how far out they go.

People were on the beach, a few boats were out, but I don't remember any close calls or anything.

As we rounded the point, the wind and waves worked against us a bit. We headed back to Hoppy's and we were broadside to the waves, so we had to keep turning into them and back again. We got a little wet, but the Little Water Buggy handled it just fine.

The motor, however, started making that noise that Hoppy had mentioned.

"I think something's wrong with your motor," said Sam.

As he cranked it up while we were fighting the wind and waves, it made a bit of a weird noise and seemed to stop accelerating.

I decided I'd get a new prop and we'd have to drop the motor down closer to the boat like Hoppy said to do.

So, then we got to the dock. Sam was still at the tiller.

I asked him if he wanted to load the boat on the trailer. It was his last chance.

"I can do it, Aunty. I know I can."

Okay, then, let's see it.

Dave the Harbormaster showed up as I backed the trailer down.

He said he just wanted to watch the show.

I told him Sam was going to load the boat. Dave seemed disappointed. He thought I was chickening out, I think. But it really was Sam's last chance to do it before leaving for college the next day. Besides, I want to get as much experience as possible at this stuff. I'm not trying to get out of it.

Sam made a couple of tries at it. The motor popped up out of the water as he hit reverse while Dave and I watched from the bottom of the ramp.

Glad I warned him about that reverse thing. My poor transom. That's the next project.

Sam drove the boat up onto the trailer, mostly, and we struggled with it to get it straightened out and winched up. He did a great job, though, for the first time. Ah, to be 18 and so sure of oneself.

I pulled the car up, pulled out the plug, Dave drove away.

I stood there looking at the boat, just a little crooked on the trailer, and decided to back it down again so Sam could shove the stern over a little. There's a little lip on the bottom (yes, it has a nautical name, my neighbor even told me what it was, but....who remembers?) that keeps getting hung up on the skids.

So, I drove it back into the water, Sam shoved it over, and I felt better.

Then I pulled it up and realized: I forgot to put the plug back in!

Yes, on trip four, I forgot the plug. Luckily, the boat was still attached to the trailer.

As we drove away, the water emptied out, and no one would ever have to know.

Now, the last part of our adventure is always getting the boat into the driveway. It's a tight squeeze, and I have to get all my neighbors to move their cars.

We can do a backing-the-trailer-in-the-driveway blog separately.

Little Water Buggy: Don't Get Blown Up

So, what did we learn on our last trip, boys and girls? We learned to leave the little plastic bin with the lights and the horn out in the open, not behind my legs under the console next to the gas can and the battery.

Speaking of the gas can and battery. My neighbor, friend, and USCG Auxiliary member Bob J decided I would get blown up because the battery and the gas can were under that little console thingy. I told him I wouldn't, but apparently, the stories are plentiful. I assured him I would get a cover for the battery and strap it down. He didn't believe me.

He got a cover for me. We discussed the ways to strap it down. I promised I'd do it, really.

He didn't believe me.

The concept is this: battery makes sparks, gas fumes ignite, gas can blows up, person falls out, boat gets hole, sinks. Generally, a really bad day on the water.

I'll do it, really.

So, one morning I walk out and there's a boat hook in the boat, and the battery has a cover. Okay, that's cool, but I can't figure out how to strap it down. I misunderstood what he said about how it was designed, I guess. I explained that I thought there'd be something to attach to the boat that the strap would go under. Suffice it to say that we didn't understand each other.

Later that day, as I was sitting at Frank & Scott's, Bob drove by and said the battery was all set, secured to the boat. Cool.

I took a look at it, and the first thing I thought was: how did he do that without tipping the boat over?

Then I looked at it and thought, "why don't men ask if they are going to help?" Okay, no big deal. He strapped it down in a little bit of a different place than I would have. We moved the hoses a little and it's fine. Just fine. No biggie.

But how did he do that without tipping the boat over?

He put one of the ubiquitous five-gallon buckets under the back of the boat, with a piece of wood from my wood pile on top, so when he got in the boat, it couldn't tip back because it hit the bucket. Beautiful in its simplicity.

Why didn't I think of that?

Bob also decided I needed a new anchor and line. He had given me one, but he decided it wasn't good enough. He gave me one that twists around to grab the bottom and releases easier. You just go in the other direction and it releases. He also added some chain to it. Then he told me to keep the other one so I had a spare, because, apparently, that's what boaters do, they keep extras of stuff.

Do my guys take care of me or what?

I thanked him for the hook. He said it would be easier for me. I had noticed that Frank & Scott have an old boat hook on their skiff. Theirs has a big old metal hook that looks like something out of Peter Pan, though. Mine is a modern, plastic hook on the end of a stick painted white. Ahem.

So, ready to go again. This time, my other sister joined me with the dog. She's got a little Chihuahua mix named Charlie, and he was eager to go, too.

We got started a little late, again. The wind was starting to pick up. I've discovered that it's important to go early in the morning, while the wind is calm. Being a late riser, I guess I just never noticed that, even though I've lived on the island for 18 years and at the family cottage for a year before that. Or, maybe I just never needed to know, so....it just didn't compute.

Now, my sister has always wanted a sailboat. She even rigged up a little sail on a six- or seven-foot row boat once. She lives right near the water and has usually opted for something she could just drag down to the water, or carry across the street to the beach. When we were teenagers, we had our first trip on a sailboat with our friend Cathy and her boyfriend/husband-to-be. Here's why I didn't go on a boat for 20 years.

Glen had a 14-foot sailboat. We were going to Quick's Hole, although they just kept calling it "Quicks's." Honestly, I still don't know if they are two places or one. I'm taking a course though....really.

Anyway, Quick's Hole is one of those openings you see in the Elizabeth Islands as you look south from the beaches of West Island, Wilbur Point, New Bedford Harbor, etc. On a clear day, the islands look close enough to swim to, but they most definitely are not. On a jet ski, you can reach them pretty quickly. I haven't tried to get to them in my little boat. Most people tell me I shouldn't, that it's too rough. Of course, I didn't know any of that in 1971 (or thereabouts). Hell, I'm not sure if I even knew those islands were called the "Elizabeth Islands," and my name is Elizabeth. Go figure.

Anyway, neither my sister nor I had ever been on a sailboat and we were really excited. I daydreamed about gliding along the water, the sail pushed out by the wind, Glen guiding the boat skillfully as we got closer to the beaches of the islands I had never been to.

Right, sure. Remember what I said about that wind kicking up in the afternoon?

Anyway, I got seasick almost immediately. I always got carsick, but it never occurred to me I'd get sick on a sailboat, gliding peacefully along towards islands that looked so close you could almost touch them.

Well, I vaguely remember a bigger boat that one of Cathy's sisters had. They were joining us on this trek. I remember the two boats getting very close to each other as they passed some Dramamine to Cathy, who passed it to me.

We got to Quick's Hole with no other mishap than my stomach flipping around. Got to the beach. I felt better after a few hours on the ground, swam, got a tan. I suppose I ate something, but I don't remember. I do remember dreading the trip back. Can't we just call a helicopter? No train? No Cape Cod Tunnel?

Anyway, we headed back. I don't know what time it was, but those afternoon winds had kicked up fiercely. The ride back was absolute torture.

Fourteen-foot sailboat, waves crashing over the sides, Cathy bailing water, me leaning over the side trying to decide if I should try to throw up or try NOT to throw up, and Glen, standing up, grasping the tiller in both hands, straining to control the boat and screaming "holy moly, here comes another one. WOOOHEEE!!!" as he turned the boat into four-foot waves.

I didn't know if I wanted to kill him or myself more.

Why they didn't just let me go on Cathy's sister's boat is a mystery to me. Maybe they were continuing to Martha's Vineyard. Maybe I figured it didn't matter, that I would get sick anyway.

All I know is: a 14-foot sailboat is not my idea of a fun ride to the Elizabeth Islands.

It took days to get over that ride. I swore I'd never go in a little boat again, and it was years, 1990-something before I went on anything besides the ferries to Martha's Vineyard and Nantucket. Except for a very pleasant, calm ride on my cousin's sailboat in Seattle, just a few years later, in 1978. THAT'S what sailboats are supposed to do. That was a 30-footer, in calm Puget Sound. But I digress.

Back to our third excursion on the low seas with the Little Water Buggy.

So, my sister and the dog and I were all prepared to go. I pushed the boat off the trailer a little better than I had each time before. I got it to the dock okay, and with Chris there to grab the line, it was easy. I moved the car and we were off. I was still shaky, though.

Anyway, the wind was kicking up out of the southwest, so we headed under the causeway to the north side where it was calmer. We buzzed around Bella Vista Island, scooted around the Fritha for a closer look, and just enjoyed the different perspective. I was still getting used to the tiller, and the engine was still vibrating a lot. We had noticed that the transom had a little soft spot on it where the right clamp was, so one of my neighbors was going to reinforce it with a big, thick piece of brass, but he hadn't done that yet.

My sister sat on a crate and held the dog. He didn't like the sound of the engine, it was just a little too loud for him.

So, we headed back after awhile when the wind was started to pick up. As we approached the causeway opening I was a little nervous because of the wind. I told Chris to get in front to direct me or push me away if I got too close.

She maneuvered into position.

"No, I can't see!"

Hmm....that won't work, then, will it.

Do I have to describe the look she gave me?

I got through okay and tied up to the dock. It's so much easier with someone else on the boat to help.

I got the car, backed the trailer into the water, and proceeded to have an impossible time getting the boat on the trailer.

This time, no one was around. The wind had picked up too much. Everyone else had the sense to be gone already. Chris saw someone she thought I knew drive through Hoppy's Landing and she went to get him. I'm glad he was gone, though, because he might've been one of those guys who ACTS like he knows what to do and then wrecks your boat.

Anyway, we both got soaked up to our shoulders trying to push the boat on the trailer. I had driven it up as far as I could but it kept getting skewed to the north/starboard side. There's a little lip on the bottom of the boat that just keeps getting hung up on the skids. It was really close, though. We just didn't have the strength to do it. We kept slipping on the slimy bottom, too, so that didn't help. I moved the trailer in the water more, out of the water more, just couldn't get that boat on straight (I told you I don't do straight well).

I just stood there, looked at Chris and said, "I don't know what to do now."

So, these were my options as I saw them: drive home with the boat a little off kilter, since I was only going to West Island anyway; call TowBoatUS (how embarrassing would that be, but...I'm covered for that!!!); run across the street to Earl's Marina and ask young James or another young'un for help; call Frank.

No brainer: Call Frank.

Got the answering machine. Shoot.

Then Chris remembered that our sister and her husband were just up the street at the cottage. Why didn't I think of that?

We called, and George came with his friend Joe, and it took them all of five seconds to get the boat on the trailer.

I said, "Oh, c'mon. How did you do that? That's just not fair."

They shrugged, but Chris said she saw that Joe wrapped his foot around the tire of the trailer. Hah! I'll remember that.

The best part is that when I called my sister, all she said to her husband was that I needed help. He thought we were out on the water. He and Joe went to Hoppy's Landing having no idea how they would help me out on the water. They were relieved to see the boat was on the trailer, just a little crooked.

George bought me guides for the trailer after that. I'm supposed to be able to drive between them and they will maneuver the boat onto the trailer. Not exactly, but...

George also bought me a new hook for the winch. I forgot to mention that the day I took mom out, the hook fell off into the water. Luckily I found it, sitting there at the end of the ramp. The winch came with one of those clamps that you have to unscrew. Everyone said that was a pain. I only used it once and agree, it was a pain. I think Bob J gave me a different hook, but it only had one big opening instead of one to hook onto the cable and one for the boat. It was also old and rusted; it didn't snap back the way it was designed to, so it fell off the first time I used it. I tied it on with a string after that and George must have noticed it. Anyway, I keep the old one in the little plastic bin with the lights and the horn now. Just in case. Pretty soon I'm going to need a bigger plastic bin.

Until next time then...

Little Water Buggy: Travels with Mom

So, the second time I took out the boat, I took my mother for a putter around the cove. Now, I really had planned on using the boat at least two more times before taking mom, but, at 82, her schedule trumps. She tends to change her mind, so if she says she wants to go, we GO.

I found her a nice little powder-blue life jacket that she loved. She was ready to go.

So I told my sister to keep mom at the cottage while I tied up to the dock. I knew that if mom saw me have a hard time just launching the boat that she'd never get in it with me. She had never been on a private boat, except to sit on my brother's. She never actually went OUT on one. The only boat she ever went anywhere on was the Nantucket Ferry. And that was a long time ago.

When I got to Hoppy's Landing, Sandy and Joe were walking out to the floating dock to fish. I know them from the paper and around town. They are very nice people, friendly, and I was happy to see familiar faces there.

Turns out Joe was a charter boat captain. Who knew?

Anyway, he asked if I needed any help. I told him it was only my second time launching, so if I could throw the line to him that would be great.

I managed to get the boat off the trailer (with some difficulty still), and started to back it up to the dock, quickly realizing I needed to go forward. I mean, the stupid outboard-tiller-sitting-back thing is all backwards anyway. Trying to back up with that backwards setup is just ridiculous. So, I backed off the trailer and then went forward. Besides, that motor just LOVES to pop up in reverse. I really need to figure out how to use that clamp-down thing from INSIDE the boat.

This time, I wanted to tie up on the other side of the dock, the north side, so I could leave the ramp side open. I was going to call my sister after I tied up and she was going to drive my mother down. I didn't want to hog the dock too long. They were only about 1/8 mile away, but still....for the guys who use that dock, that's all the time they need to launch or load. They're so fast at it (grrr....)

So, with Joe directing me, I managed to get the boat around to the other side of the dock. Unfortunately, I ended up facing the dock head on, not alongside it. Joe kept saying that was good. I thought I knew what he was going for but I didn't know how to do it.

He grabbed the front of the boat and said, "that's good, Beth."

I, from behind, with Joe directly in front of my boat, said, "but I don't know what to do now, Joe."

He said to give it a little gas and turn the tiller whichever way (I'll be damned if I can remember which way) and that would make the back end of the boat swivel around.

Okay, that's what I thought he wanted.

So, I gave it just a tad of gas and turned the way he said, and the back end of the boat just swung around towards the dock while Joe held it by the rails in front.

How cool is that?

Then the front of the boat kind of started climbing up the dock a tad. Joe told me to cut the power.

Well, now, I told you...everything is backwards on a boat and this stuff doesn't come as second nature to me.

Yup, you guessed it....I turned the throttle the wrong way. Gave it the gas....revved that baby right up... VROOM!

My Little Water Buggy just climbed right up that dock like the Great White in Jaws after Quint. Straight for Joe.

Picture it from the tiller: the bow of my little boat heading right up out of the water, just Joe's head visible above it as he held onto the rails trying to push it back.

Oh, my God, I'm going to kill Joe. With Sandy right there watching the whole thing.

I turned the throttle back the other way, shaking, waiting for some admonition or laugh, or something.

"Looks like you've got a pretty good motor there, Beth," said Joe (or some such similar thing).

Do I love this town or what?

So, I jumped out, all shaky legs and hands, moved the car, and called my sister.

Meanwhile, the wind started to pick up, bringing a little fog with it. My sister and mother got in the boat. Joe suggested I stay in the mooring field. I told him the plan was to go under the causeway, to the north side, where the water was calmer. He suggested I avoid the tight quarters of the causeway opening.

We headed out to sea, but it was too windy. My little boat was getting bounced around.

Now, the other thing is, the boat doesn't have any stationary seats yet. I'm just not sure where I want to put them. I have two, but they are in the shed until I make the big decision.

Meanwhile, the plan had been to put a couple of beach chairs right up against the back console (which is what the gas and battery are under). Unfortunately, after we got the motor on, I realized I needed that whole back section to steer. So we put two chairs on the deck, but they could slide around a little. It wasn't really rough enough for that, but the chairs aren't really secure, either.

Anyway, I turned the boat around as soon as we could clear the rocks off Long Island and we headed under the causeway. I told my sister I'd just go slow. If it looked like I was going to hit the sides, she could just push us away. Remember, it's just a 15-foot tri-hull, low in the water.

I got us under there just fine and it was so calm on that side. Of course, there were a bunch of kids jumping off the causeway, but they had the good sense to wait until I got through.

Maybe they could see I was new at this.

We puttered around Bella Vista Island. It was the first time my mother had seen it from that perspective. We've had the cottage since the 60s, but you really need a boat to see it up close from that angle. We remember when the house got built. We remember the island before this new owner started gutting it like a grapefruit. The house is still a sight to behold, though.

My sister and my mother had a cigarette as I puttered very slowly. We invoked the memory of my late Aunt Terry, who would've just loved the whole concept. We didn't have any mimosas, though, kind of a necessity with an Aunt Terry memory.

Next time, we promised ourselves, we'll have mimosas.

The fog started to roll in, but it was still light. Shoot, I've only lived on the island for 18 years. I've seen that fog roll so fast and thick you couldn't see 10 feet within 10 seconds, but, for some reason, I thought, "no problem." My sister was there, she could go to the front of the boat and direct me, right?

Except...when she was at the front of the boat, I couldn't see.

Ah well, live and learn.

So, we started to approach the causeway. The fog was thick. Really thick. We puttered slowly, my sister and I trying not to sound nervous so mom wouldn't be nervous.

"You have lights?" asked my sister.

Um...yeah, but they're in the little plastic bin behind my legs under the console next to the gas tank and the battery.

Hmm....probably not a good place for them.

Do you remember which boats we passed on the way out?

We could see the causeway itself, but not the opening.

Oh, wait, there are the kids jumping off, there's the fence....that's the opening.

Phew.

"Do you have a horn?" asked my sister.

Um....yeah, but it's right next to the lights in the little plastic bin behind my legs under the console next to the gas tank and the battery.

Hey, wait, I have a whistle on my kayaking life jacket....oh, no, I gave that to my 10-year-old cousin for a hiking whistle (to scare away the bears).

Okay, no problem. Approach the causeway slowly, the kids on the bridge see us, are waiting. No one coming through on the other side. That's good, I understand it's kind of interesting if two boats  "commit" themselves to going under at the same time.

Don't even think about that. Let the other guy hit reverse. My motor pops up when I use reverse. Don't tell mom!

Okay, under the causeway, kids waited to jump. They waved, even said something, but we couldn't understand them.

Man it was foggy.

Apparently, when we got through on the other side, Sandy & Joe clapped.

Okay, so now I needed to get back to the dock. Remember the first time? It took four tries.

Well, I'll be honest, I don't remember why or how I did it, but we went back to the north side. Maybe someone was using the other side. Maybe it just seemed easier. Mom got out of the boat and Joe and I moved the boat around the dock using the lines. I learned then that my $2, 15-foot lines from Ocean State weren't long enough. Went back and bought more 25-foot lines.

I went to get the car, and my sister's husband showed up just about then to greet us (and pick up mom and my sister).

When I got back to the dock, after mom had a few minutes to talk to Sandy and Joe, mom said, "You didn't tell me this was only the second time you took the boat out!"

I didn't hide that fact. I thought you knew.

Oh well.

Anyway, my brother-in-law helped me line up the boat with the trailer. I did a terrible job of getting it on the trailer, but my brother-in-law George helped and we got it done. I kept cutting the power too soon and the wind and tide just pushed that baby off kilter. Somehow, though, George managed to get it on there and make it look so easy.

So, the second time out and I still didn't get the stupid thing on the trailer.

Mom told me later she'd pay to put seats in.

She wants to go out on it again.

So, how cool is that?

Little Water Buggy: Don't forget the plug.

So, after getting the boat in the yard, I needed to get all the stuff to get it in the water.

I sent an email to everyone I could think of asking for some of the stuff I needed: gas tank and hoses, anchor and line, battery, oar. Then the stuff I would need eventually, like a ladder, radio, and a couple of other things....can't remember now.

Oh, right, a drain plug....don't forget the plug.

Oh, the reasons I should write this stuff right away.

Anyway, I got a free gas tank, oar, anchor and line, and even a battery. Then, after I ran the boat a couple of times, one of my neighbors decided I would get blown up because the battery and the gas tank are in the same little cubby hole in the back, so he got me a box for the battery and even tied it down for me. But, I'm getting ahead of myself.

So, Frank and Scott, whose herculean efforts made it possible for this thing to go in the water in the first  place, gave me a plug off the wall. I had mentioned that I thought it was a 1", but not sure. Frank just grabbed one off a hook in his garage and handed it to me. They both suggested, strongly, that I put the plug in from the inside, not the back. Harder to get to, but worth it. They said the churning of the water could loosen it. Seen in more than once, etc.

Just screw it in, they said. FIRST THING YOU SHOULD DO.

No problem. I can do THAT.

So, I trucked on over to my house next door and shoved the plug in through the back, just to make sure it fit. Well, it just went in and then out.

Hmmm....must be too small.

I walked back over, where they were eating outside in their screen house. Ah, neighbors....

It doesn't fit, it's too small.

You have to screw it in.

But it doesn't fit.

Scott walked over with me and explained that it's on a spring or some such thing...I don't know. It goes in easily, then you turn it to the right and it opens up and tightens.

Oh.

"I told you I don't know ANYTHING," I said.

Ugh....

Okay, now I had my gas tank all filled, with the oil mixed, and I lifted that baby into the boat. Hell, that was heavy. But I can do it.

I jumped in the boat, put the tank under that little console in the back, hooked up the hoses. I  had read all about how to do that earlier when one of my neighbors gave me a hose/pump, but no clamps. I ended up buying the whole set-up, it was just about the same price as buying the clamps separately and it was all connected. Much easier. Been back and forth to Benny's and West Marine more times than I care to count.

Anyway, hooked it all up, then jumped in with the battery.

Slid the battery in the back and....whoa....Little Water Buggy, the whole thing tipped back right into the lawn.

Oh, my pittery-pattery little heart. My hands were shaking already and I didn't even have the thing in the water yet.

I jumped out and took a look at it. What a sight to see that boat in the dirt, with the front of the trailer up in the air. (I should've taken a picture, but it just didn't seem like a Kodak moment at the time.)

I walked back next door and said, "Hey, Frank. I think that trailer needs a little adjusting."

God bless his little soul. He didn't laugh at me, just walked over, took a look and said, "they all do that, you need to hook it up to the car first."

Oh, good. Okay.

Now, meanwhile, he had told me that I would need a 2" ball hitch, not the 1 7/8" that everyone expected. Hell, how do I know that? I had U-haul put the tow package on the car and had an old ball hitch from the old car that my mechanic George B had put on. I looked at the thing and saw a "2" but had no way of knowing if that was 2 INCHES. Damn guys. Why can't they just be clear about these things?

So, I just started asking everyone everything. One of my other neighbors assured me that the "2" meant 2 inches. George B came by and gave me a great lesson on my motor, especially warning me that it would pop up in reverse if I didn't clamp it down. Apparently the pin to lock it down was gone...but, then someone else found it...it's there, I just don't know how to use it from INSIDE the boat. No matter, it's better NOT to lock it down for going forward in case you hit a rock, that way the motor will pop up and get less damage...one little, itty bitty piece of information at a time.

Okay, so, hook the trailer up to the car and get back in. Screw in the plug, hook up the battery. Get a big bucket of water to put the engine in so I can start it in the driveway first. Don't want to get out there and have it not start...EVERYONE said that.

Won't start. Won't start. Won't start.

Frank.....

Hoses backwards.

Shoot...after reading all about how that big arrow tells you which way the gas flows TO the engine, I had hooked it up backwards.

Thank you, Frank.

Engine starts. Shut it off. Move the big bucket of water.

Are you sure you won't go with me the first time, Frank? Scott?

You'll be fine.

Of course I will.

Well, I threw the crate with the two "boat" life jackets in the car, but couldn't find my C02 life vest (the kind that inflates). I figured I had left it at Frank & Scott's after we had all gone on the kayaking trip (oh, another story to tell).

That day a big old cloud had come across the island (see post one: the launch), so I was just going to take the boat to Hoppy's Landing and drive around and get the feel of the trailer, try to figure out how to back it up, etc.

I decided, though, to go by Frank & Scott's first to see if they had my life jacket. I took the left, headed down Bluepoint, which is not paved. Oh, my pittery pattery heart again. Having not been around boats, or...realizing at that point...having never even been in a car that was hauling a boat, I was totally unprepared for the cacophony that came from the back. I looked in the mirror and the boat was still attached to the trailer, both jumping up and down on the road. I slowed to a crawl, found Scott at the garage, asked for my life jacket, which he had, then..

"Is it supposed to sound like that?"

Scott walked to the trailer, pulled it up and down and assured me it was secure and okay.

That wasn't my question, exactly, but...I guess my question was answered.

"You sure you won't come with me this first time?"

Guess not.

I turned towards Hoppy's Landing, shaking like a leaf in autumn....oh...this was a good idea, right?

See post one, "Little Water Buggy: The Launch," for what happens next.