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.