ScooterGuy
Recycles dryer sheets
- Joined
- Feb 12, 2007
- Messages
- 150
Boats--particularly sailboats--can be one of the most addictive things on this planet, next to drugs, guns, computers and girls. It can be sooo painful when Ya-Just-Gotta-Get-A-Boat.
In my case, it was a 26' long steel 'sharpie,' built by a Famous Yacht Designer, near Newport News, Virginia. Now, at the time, I might just have been able to afford a used 12' wood skiff, with closet poles for mast, boom and sprit, and a bed-sheet for a sail. Ah, but noooo, I just-hadda-have a modern-materials recreation of an 1890's oystering sailcraft.
Said watercraft had no engine, and was propelled in a calm by pulling off one of the long floorboards, and using it as a sweep-oar. This resulted in a forward motion of about 1/4-knot, if the tide was running just right.
Said boat was moored about 45 miles away, up off Mobjack Bay (where I could afford the mooring ... free). I cannot describe--at least in any typewritten space--the number of [-]dumbass[/-] stupid things I did.
However, this was cumulated by my being caught in a Chesapeake Bay squall. The best thing I can say about the wind speed that day was that the indicator-dial at the coast guard station registered 130 mph ... before the entire weather cupeloa was ripped off the building and never found again.
During said squall, I was blithly sailing with all my sails up, 150% over-canvassed. Shortly after, I viewed the bottom of my boat for the first time, after struggling out from under the mainsail. Then the hatches fell off, and it sank.
Obviously, I got it back up again (an epic tale in itself), and spent the rest of the sailing season scooping the black, stinking muck from off the bottom of the bay, out of the cabin.
I lost a wife (eventually), job, savings, friends, acquaintences and the respect of my father over this. I eventually had to sell it at a big loss, which cost me the friendship and respect of the Famous Boat Designer.
I now tour on a Suzuki Burgman maxi-scooter, named the Demon Duck of Doom, and try not to do anything as boneheaded ... I failed, of course, going too fast on a backwoods road, and busting 7 ribs, 8 weeks ago (at 67 years old). I'm mostly healed now ... and still married to DW. Sigh ...
In my case, it was a 26' long steel 'sharpie,' built by a Famous Yacht Designer, near Newport News, Virginia. Now, at the time, I might just have been able to afford a used 12' wood skiff, with closet poles for mast, boom and sprit, and a bed-sheet for a sail. Ah, but noooo, I just-hadda-have a modern-materials recreation of an 1890's oystering sailcraft.
Said watercraft had no engine, and was propelled in a calm by pulling off one of the long floorboards, and using it as a sweep-oar. This resulted in a forward motion of about 1/4-knot, if the tide was running just right.
Said boat was moored about 45 miles away, up off Mobjack Bay (where I could afford the mooring ... free). I cannot describe--at least in any typewritten space--the number of [-]dumbass[/-] stupid things I did.
However, this was cumulated by my being caught in a Chesapeake Bay squall. The best thing I can say about the wind speed that day was that the indicator-dial at the coast guard station registered 130 mph ... before the entire weather cupeloa was ripped off the building and never found again.
During said squall, I was blithly sailing with all my sails up, 150% over-canvassed. Shortly after, I viewed the bottom of my boat for the first time, after struggling out from under the mainsail. Then the hatches fell off, and it sank.
Obviously, I got it back up again (an epic tale in itself), and spent the rest of the sailing season scooping the black, stinking muck from off the bottom of the bay, out of the cabin.
I lost a wife (eventually), job, savings, friends, acquaintences and the respect of my father over this. I eventually had to sell it at a big loss, which cost me the friendship and respect of the Famous Boat Designer.
I now tour on a Suzuki Burgman maxi-scooter, named the Demon Duck of Doom, and try not to do anything as boneheaded ... I failed, of course, going too fast on a backwoods road, and busting 7 ribs, 8 weeks ago (at 67 years old). I'm mostly healed now ... and still married to DW. Sigh ...