Changing dreams into reality is hard
work. Of course, anything worthwhile usually is. Between all the
interruptions of holidays, computer crashes, and unscheduled trips
that had to be made to take care of emergencies, we finally came to
that momentous occasion for all boaters... the shakedown cruise. It's
the first time you actually take a new boat out onto the water. Or,
an old one you're trying to restore to its former glory, like we are.
The GLORY B. passed with flying colors.
Along with the wonderful family crew the Captain put together for the
occasion. Personally, I only had one bit of a meltdown. It happened
when my son (who happens to be in the Coast Guard and takes these
things seriously) decided to surprise everyone with a “man
overboard drill.” Because that's how they happen in real life. By
surprise. Believe me, one never plans to lose anyone over the side.
Before I go any further, I should
explain that as a writer I get very attached to certain things. Odd
things, mostly, that have to do with my sense of atmosphere. Shells,
rocks with gold veins running through, a particular tea kettle, and
the Captain's mustache (which he has had for all the years I've known
him). One of my favorite things aboard the GLORY B, other than the
mermaid hooks to hang things on, is the life ring that frames the
porthole on deck. For some reason, I love that old thing. So, imagine
the horror when my son suddenly flings it out to sea when we are
clipping along quite nicely and hollers, “Man overboard!”
The exercise being to see how long it
takes to get the boat turned around, and come up alongside close
enough to recover it, again. Just keeping it in sight all that time
was nerve-wracking. Especially when it would disappear for a few
seconds in the trough of some little swell of sea. Not that I
couldn't replace it with a brand new one if we should happen to fail
the test. It's just that it was one of the boat's original items,
older than our crew, and one of those magical things that had gained
a bit of life “by reason of use.” Sort of a touchstone, you might
say.
It took us five minutes to recover. Due
partially to being slowed down by about a foot of sea-growth trailing
from our bottom that we haven't scraped off, yet. Which is not good enough (if
it had actually been a human), but we will get better at it, I'm sure.
At least we got it back! Alas, I have no film of it, since
the last thing on my mind during all the excitement was pushing the
button on the camera. Something else I learned about myself, and will
have to adjust to, or there will never be any truly exciting shots of
our adventures.
I did get a few pictures, though. So
that you wonderful armchair travelers could get a bit of a sense of
what it's like to come aboard...
