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...