Saturday, July 11, 2009

Boat Trouble - March 07

The plan was to get up Saturday morning and take the kids out on the boat. When Saturday finally dawned, I was excited. Ok everybody, let’s hustle! The weather is cooperating and I want to get out there! I’m tired of my pale white “transplanted northerner” skin tone. I want sun and saltwater. Let’s go!

“I don’t want to sit around on a boat all day. This is going to be boring! Can we at least fish?” from Lane. My thinking is that a little boredom will give my son’s 16-year-old hormones a rest, but who am I? So I stand there by the door tapping my foot while Mike gathers up the fishing gear, the kids lollygag, and sunlight is wasting. Wait! Do we have drinks? Yes, they’re in the cooler. But I just saw you put bait in the cooler! Gross! Do we have sunscreen? Sunglasses? Fishing licenses? Check. Check. Check. Finally!

Then I noticed the skeptical look on Mike’s face.
“What’s wrong?”
“I don’t know. Let me check the weather one more time.”
“You don’t NEED to check the weather. We have two foot seas, light wind, and SUNSHINE! Let’s go!”
He looks around once more as if looking for a reason not to go, then shrugs his shoulders and we leave. Finally!

On the boat heading down the river, Bridgette laid on the bow to get some sun while Lane and his buddy T.J. sat in back making lascivious comments about passing bikinis. Mike drove and I positioned myself to maximize my tanning and enjoy the scenery. All was good and right in the world.

Until one of the boys said, “We’re hungry. What did you bring to eat?” Mike and I looked at each other realizing we’d forgotten to pack snacks. A fate worse than hugging them in public when it comes to teenagers.
“There’s squid in the cooler.”
“Ha ha, very funny Mom. Great. She forgot to pack food. We’re going to starve to death.” So once again, I’ve been dramatically presented with the Mother-of-the-Year award. I accept, thank you. “It may seem like it, but it isn’t going to kill you to go a couple hours without food. We’ll stop somewhere on the way back in and get snacks. Now shut up and fish.”

We motored out to open water and I learned pretty quickly that two foot seas in a 24 foot boat still means a lot of jostling and bouncing around. I finally figured out that facing into the swells meant less sliding around on deck, but when I saw my first-ever flying fish and turned to watch it, I earned a couple more bruises. Still, we were having fun, getting sun, and it was good to be on the water as a family. I should have knocked on wood. Or at least my own head.

About an hour later as we’re cruising along enjoying ourselves, the horrible sound of the engine dying filled our ears. I looked at Mike and he looked at the gauges. I looked at the shore and calculated us to be about 20 miles out. Actually it was only about a mile, but still. Then I looked around for the other boats we’d been seeing all afternoon. Gone, of course.

Mike got the engine going again, but only long enough to determine it was the fuel filter. “Don’t worry, I have a spare and it won’t take long to change.”
Whew! He’s prepared. I held the wheel steady as he got the tool kit and filter, opened the engine compartment and got to work. Lane complained once more about being hungry and I shot him the mom look that said “now is not the time.” I also shoved my bladder to the back of my mind and smiled at the kids to let them know I wasn’t worried.

Then came a sound worse than the engine cutting out: Mike saying, “Great!” followed by a short string of unprintable cursing. It seems the tool kit was missing the one wrench he needed to change the filter. Whistling the theme song to Gilligan’s Island didn’t seem appropriate so I asked if I should call someone. By then the sun was sinking and the crew was grumbling mutinously. Mike sucked up his pride and nodded curtly.

Our rescuer arrived just as the sun dipped behind the horizon and we sat in humble silence as we were towed back in. Then Mike looked at me and said, “I wasn’t sure about this. I should have trusted my gut.” And he might have heard it better if I hadn’t been so adamant about going.

Later, after the boat was secured, bladders were emptied, teenagers were fed and the crisis over, the kids rebounded quickly. “Thanks for taking us out! That was SO cool!”
Go figure.
Our heartfelt, stomach-felt, and bladder-felt gratitude to our rescuer, Kenny Schliessman.

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