Join us on the SV HideAway as we explore Florida's West Coast searching for treasure and enlightenment
aboard a 23' Compac sail boat - An adventure in itself . . . .
We want to capture the essence of sailing, how
to plan a cruise, what to do when something breaks, the stresses and the joys of the sport, the technical aspects of
entering a port of call recorded live as it occurs.
You
will hear and see what really happens aboard a small cruising sailboat as well as at our ports of call all without getting wet although you may want to
keep a spray bottle of water handy for use at the appropriate moments.
So
climb aboard the SV HideAway and let's go sailing
One of the good things about sailing is how slow the boat moves through the water.It gives one ample time to ponder the deeper secrets of the universe such as why for no apparent reason
something fails only when you use it.The reason is simple; you have failed to
follow the traditions and superstitions of the nautical life.
For example, unless you address them first, it is bad luck to allow people with red hair and/or flat
feet to speak to you before the cruise begins.Moreover, how often has this happened
to you?You are carrying needed stuff down to the boat to begin that dream cruise
and alas and alak you come across a pig.Did you know that bad luck would occur
on or near your vessel unless the cruise is postponed at once and rescheduled within the next day?Notwithstanding the pig's fate, many a cruise has been ruined by just this lack of nautical knowledge.
Likewise, do not allow a pretty girl or poultry to wave
or whistle to you as you sail away from the dock."'A Whistling Woman And A Crowing
Hen / Bring The Devil Out Of His Den'.Ponder not its meaning, bathe in
its wisdom.
Women, flowers and clergymen are considered bad luck to have aboard, but wine spilt on deck is not.Women on board cause the seas to rise up, but naked women on board calms them. And
for this, a sailor with a bottle of wine and no sight of a clergyman bearing flowers should be thankful.
And if you have wondered why certain sailors have a peculiar odor about them, it is because a true sailor
cannot wash his clothes the day of departure, since he may be washed away as well at sea.A ship's bell contains the soul of the ship and will ring of its own accord when the ship is about to be lost.This is why HideAway does not have a ship's bell in the first place.
Spotting a dolphin is good luck as we all know, but finding a Cormorant or a Curlew at sea is not. Crying
Gulls contain the souls of sailors lost at sea.They were no doubt lost after
failing to use proper navigational techniques and/or following the wrong bird, however giving passage to a flower bearing
clergyman cannot be ruled out.
Never start a cruise on the last day of the year, the second Monday in August, first Monday in April
or on any Friday lest you become somehow responsible for the hanging of Judas, the destruction of Sodom & Gomorrah, the
murder of Able by Cain, or the crucifixion of Christ.Betcha that's not covered
by insurance.
Of course never, ever board a boat with your left foot first and always fish from the starboard side
with tackle undisturbed by dogs. A dog seen near fishing tackle is bad luck whether for the dog or the tackle is unclear,
although the HideAways have a dog, {AKA: Rat} they do not fish so the rule would not seem to apply.
Other possible and just as likely explanations include using the following words at sea: Pig, Egg, Cat,
Knife, Hare, Church, Good-bye, Rat, Clergyman, Dog, Salt, and Rabbit.Many a
cruise has come to grief when the unwary sailor has told the story at sea of what happened when a dog, a clergyman and a rabbit
went into a bar to meet a pig eating an egg while a cat passes the knife and salt to a rat who was just seen waving goodbye
when leaving a church full of hares.
That dear friends is the short list of the most logical explanations as to why HideAway, in the course
of only a few hours managed to swamp her dingy, take on way too much sea water via a hole in the boat, and was seen sailing
in crazy lopsided pentagons off Bunces Pass.It explains further why she was
found tied up and heeled over at the floating dock, and also provides some rationalization as to what purpose her Captain's
pants were flying from the flag halyard.
And if Captain Kirk says "Fire at will!". Stay away from Will.
{Credits: Alec Gill"Superstitions: Folk Magic
in Hull's
Fishing Community", (Hutton Press) University of Hull, U.K.Blame: Wellthat would be The Capt.}
Cal was
in the process of beating up Miami in an early bowl game so
the talk was football last Saturday night when we entered the sailing club after docking the boat.
“
No we weren’t interested in the “ Myama” game so much as to find out when Nebraska played during the holidays.”In
answer to the single question from the only occupant of the house that seemed right without causing insult.
“You
know I went to Alabama when Bear was there and we played
you guys a few times” he said“I think we won un of ‘em if
memory serves.”
“Is
that right?”I sailed on “ I think Nebraska
plays in Orlando this year so it must be the Citrus Bowl although
it’s hard to tell which bowl is which in the age of corporate sponsors.
“Yeah
they really ruined some fine traditions with that one.” The ole Alabama
boy agreed.
“You
know I once suited up in the Citrus Bowl” The much too small for football Engineer asked more or less.
“It
was Halloween night in ‘64” He continued without an answer “My brother played Pro-Am back then and when
ever they came to town I’d look him up at his motel.”
“I
didn’t know the Citrus Bowl was played in 1964” I offered
Well
you know I don’t either but it was in the same stadium ‘cept back then it only held 10,000 or so and Pro-Am games
couldn’t come close to fillin it but it was sumptin to do in 1964.
‘Course
Pro-Am players had to drive themselves to the games anda group of them left Huntsville but
couldn’t find Florida I guess so the team was four
players short.
“Y'
all better git a full roster by game time or you’ll lose your share of the gate.”The Circuit Court Judge and Football Commissioner ordered.Looking at
this‘Bama Boy he continued “Don’t care where you git um –
jist find some yeh hear?”
Well
I laughed it off you know but my brother said he was serious and could I find some football players in a couple of hours for
tonight’s game?
I
managed to find a real large research scientist at Martin-Marietta who sported a long black beard. Then I convinced a couple volleyball players I knew that it might be fun to watch some football from the
bench.
‘Course we got into the game free and were trying to figure out what to do with
all the pads and such in the locker room – not one of us had ever played the game you know – When two referees
walked in both of whom we knew from work.
Well
the four of us turned out backs to them pretty quick and pretended to be interested in our shoes until they left.When it came time to warm up my brother told us to sit on the sideline bench and not to take off
our helmets or do anything else to bring attention to ourselves.
“That
shouldn’t be too hard” I suggested “How’d it work out?”
“Well
pretty good really, until just after the half when several of the players were injured and we were the only clean jerseys
on the bench.”
“How’s
that?”
The
crowd got upset ‘bout the coach not playin us, ‘specially the big guy you see.And they started shouting – well chanting really ‘bout “Put in 85 Castro” or some such.
‘Course we didn’t know what was going on until one of us realized Jon had
number 85 on his back and bared more than a passing resemblance to Castro – ‘member this was in ’64.
“No,
No the coach couldn’t put us in considerin…” To settle my unasked question
“Did
your brothers’ team win the game?” I wondered
“You
know I don’t remember but I’ll tell you it took me more ‘an a year to get up the courage to tell the Referees
who really sat on the bench that night and I don’t think they’d believed me if someone didn’t mention that
number 85 sure looked a lot like Jon and asked me why were weren’t sittin in our usual seats.”
Later
I found out that Nebraska plays in the Gator Bowl on New
Years Day but if I’d known that I’d never have met the good ole boy from ‘Bama.Roll Tide!
An elderly lady slowly shuffled into my shop one afternoon looking tired and worn. Dressed in gaudy
shirt and baggy pants topped with a bright colored floppy hat, her eyes hidden by dark wrap around sun glasses retired people
often wear.
I judged she sailed past marker 80 awhile ago.
The large carelessly rolled print under her arm was the subject of her visit.The print was a gift from her daughter in-law.
It was a reproduction made from the work of a famous long deceased artist but looked like the result
of a bad day at the easel. Worse, the subjects of the painting were two large cats, one white the other not.
Neither of the two in-laws is fond of cats, nor the artist, nor the print. They don't like each other
much either, I gathered.
Determined by their family traditions, a gift is a gift and is required to reside in a place of honor
at least when the giver comes for a visit.
"Design it dramatic and cheap" she began."I want to be
on the water in an hour"
Reaching to a forgone conclusion as all males of the species are predisposed to do, I inquired as to
what kind of power boat her son owned and where it was docked.
"Ha!My son doesn't know beans about boats!" The little
old lady chided
"Neither does that wife of his, but I have a kayak."
My expression, which approached astonishment, must have given me away.
"I take it out at least three times a week from Pop Stansel's Park"She continued."Most of the time I hang around shore, I love the sea grasses
and shallows."
Recovering somewhat I asked if she ever went off shore.
"Once I did try for Three Rooker Bar.I got about half
way there when some idiot in a power boat knocked me over."Pausing for air and
getting angrier by the word, she set forth again.
"What's wrong with those people anyway? They did not even look
at me!"
I stated my theory that turning on an ignition key turns off the average brain and then she started
again.
"Do you know how expensive those paddles are?" she asked, I assumed rhetorically since she did not wait
for another answer.
"I couldn't get back on my kayak, it’s an open model you know, without letting go of the paddle
and I wasn't about to do that. So I hung on the kayak with one hand and the paddle with the other."
After gauging my expression, she continued.
"To answer your question, I floated for a couple of hours until a real nice fellow fishing from a jon
boat came over and helped me to shore."
The story was improbable, perhaps she was had forgotten how long ago the event happened as not a few
of us do on occasion.She was, well, frail and old and did not look the least
bit capable of paddling a kayak.
Last Sunday she came back to pick up her cats.This time
dressed in a hospital uniform but wearing the same loud hat and sun glasses hanging from her neck on a line.
As I carried her art to her car I noticed she was no longer shuffling
along, in fact I had to hurry to catch her.
"I had to sell my Jeep, you know, the Doctors said I shouldn't raise my arms above my head after my
boating accident so I couldn't load my kayak on the roof" She said as she opened the back of her van.
"It's a rather tight fit in there, but I think those cats will fit next to my kayak."
Unable to hide my wonderment any longer I gaped at the well-used kayak that took up every bit of passenger
space from the back door to the windshield.
"I started paddling when I turned 65 and I don't plan to stop until I'm 96." she stated as fact.
As I walked back to my shop a quote by Mark Twain broad reached through my consciousness:
"Twenty years from now you will be more disappointed by the things you didn't do than by the ones you
did. So throw off the bowlines. Sail away from the safe harbor. Catch the trade winds in your sails. Explore. Dream."
They came from
a place north of North Dakota to a cabin south of the Don
to recharge their musical energy.The cabin, built of heart pine planks, pecky
cypress and slab cut siding several inches thick, sat on concrete blocks on a large sand lot just behind the dunes of St
Pete Beach FL.
Barged over from
a memory in 1927 the little white cabin with large green shutters sports a stone fire place, thick doors and three rooms.It’s window had a well worn flower box hanging from it with a smattering
of flowers.The small stoop on the back was protected from the rain by a smaller
overhang.A large seven toed grey striped cat who appeared more a lion
king in residence laid on one of the three concrete steps of varying heights.
“It’s a marvelous night for a Moondance…..”
We nearly missed
the cabin ushered off the pavement by Mark bearing a bowlful of cherries. Yes life is…. Parked in the softer than comfortable
sand between sea grapes and palm trees we joined the group gathered under an umbrella on the patio.
“A fantabulous night to make romance…….”
Distant thunder
became growing rain drops that drove most of the sailors, artists, musicians, and the adventuresome to the crowded dry convenience
of the small main salon.Those too slow or too brave remained outside under a
couple of palm trees declaring it ain’t gonna rain HERE.And
it didn’t--- Much.
“And all the leaves on the trees are falling
To
the sound of the breezes that blow……..”
Neighbors of the
CottageVillage came by for a chat, one with a dog bone but no dog and one with
a banjo who brought a friend who did not stay but the banjo did.The rest of
us brought small dead animals for consumption with a cornucopia of wondrous treats and beverages.
“I’m frightened by the devil
and drawn to those ones that ain’t …”
A contingent marched
forth to find the small sandy trail to the beach, carrying with them the usual assortment of towels, adult beverages, a chair
or two or none as most were interested in a sunset swim that looked to those rooted in the sand more of a sunset baptism.
“You are in my blood like holy wine……
you taste so bitter….baby …
so bitter and so sweet……..”
THE PATH TO ENLIGHTENMENT
ST PETE BEACH FLORIDA
The sea breeze blew the colors of the sun and sky over everyone who could see..Birds flew.. Kids ran in the bright colored surf—Silliness prevailed as Free Range Humans roamed
to their hearts content.Nothing mattered but the laughter of friends,
the sound of the sea and the marvelous colors of the sky.
“Oh
I could--- Drink--- a case of you---- darling -------
and still be on myfeet----and still--- be---- on---- my feet…”
AHHHHHHHHH
FEEL THE HEAT
After the sun went
down and the grill cooled musical instruments appeared as if too shy to be seen in daylight but eager to play all night.Drums of many persuasions, and guitars, and voices, and the new banjo added
joyful sounds to the music of the night.When one grew quiet a whole chorus of
others started anew.
“And all the night's magic seems to whisper and hush …..
And all the soft moonlight seems to shine in your blush…….”
Those who were
not crying were about to when Wendy sang Moondance with such emotion and energy
that nobody could breathe again until she finished.
Then in a sort
of rapture were overcome by the sublime joy of this special moment in time by a timeless beach cottage under a silver of a
moon and palm trees on a starry, starry night
“Can I just have One more dance---- with you---- my love
There are old jokes
in the snow infested northern state of Nebraska about the
difference between four wheel drive pickup trucks and the common two wheel drive.If I were to run my two wheel drive into a snow bank for instance I’d just open the door, get a snow shovel out
of the back and commence digging.
In a four wheel drive – Get ready for it - You have to crawl out through the window first.Har Har Harrr!The
snow….you see …. Well it’s too deep ….. aaaa…to open the door…’cause….. by
their nature, 4 wheelers are required to drive in deeper snow . . . and . ….The same logic seems to apply to the shallow vs deep draft sailing vessels.
On leaving the
BirdIsland anchorage on TerraCeiaBay
last cruise the First Mate was heard to comment that we didn’t HAVE to go all the way to the second mark since we ARE
a shallow draft vessel and as such are obligated by the whole concept of BEING shallow draft to cut the mark.Shallow draft vessels don’t run aground, just so you know, the ground as it were runs into them.Did I mention we use a lead line and our keel to determine the Apparent and Actual
Depth of the water?
Now I know you’re
thinking this is just another two wheel drive story of running aground.Nay
I say!This is a story of what happens to a four wheel drive shallow draft vessel
navigating a narrow serpentine channel early on a chilly low tide morning without the actual ground impacting the hull.
A CHILI RAFT UP
ON A CHILLY DAY
Some of you may
not have met our long term crew member, The Famous Mr. E, but you probably have one of his relatives lurking close by.Mr. E believes he is the center of the universe and demands much pampering before
you can expect him to do any work.He is a heavy drinker and smoker.He does whatever he likes when he likes to do it and no amount of cajoling, swearing or bodily threats
will change his mind.
I’ve had
many conversations with him over the years about his drinking problem (I believe he is a gasoholic) but they usually end with
a belch and smelly smoke blown in my face and then he does what he wants anyway.The
bottom line is you don’t want to mess with him, especially when he’s in water colder than he likes and you just
woke him up from a nap.
It was the First
Mate paying attention again who first noticed the cloud forming at HideAway’s stern as we motor-sailed down the channel
from BirdIsland. What
followed was the Capt hung over the stern engaging in deep metaphysical unilateral discussions with Mr. E while the First
Mate expertly sailed down the channel and out into TampaBay without incident even with the Capt. leaning on the tiller at inopportune moments.
Judging by his
water pump output indicator Mr E had inhaled a fine white substance that clogged his water pipes and made him run funny.Yes Mr. E was steamed by the sand stirred up by HideAways’ keel as she
passed too close over a snowdrift.
Once on TampaBay time was
gained to fix Mr. E before HideAway crossed the shipping lane so all that was necessary was to set the GPS to go to Mullet
Key.Unfortunately the GPS directed us to the south west.It seemed to know where Mullet Key was but did not have a clue as to how to get there.This according to unnamed sources is equally true of the Capt. Line
of sight navigation would have to do since other problems over rode the need to bring out the manual chart plotter.Who cares how far away something is when you might not get there anyway?
In an effort to
shorten this long story I removed Mr. E’s hat and the plumbing necessary to let sea water pump directly from the engine
head.A half inch stream of gritty and for the most part cold sea water
shot almost three feet from the side of the engine for the next 10 miles.It
wasn’t until the horn of Structure C sounded that Mr. E sputtered and nearly stopped.But that’s to be expected is it not?
Relief for a hot head
It has been said
that what ever you experience in a small boat it will be more intense than if you sailed a larger vessel.You are closer to the water, more attuned to the wind, waves and weather.You sail longer since you are slower so you see more of the natural world and notice things unapparent to the faster
vessel. Shallow sandy reefs apparently did not make the list during this cruise for the HideAways.
Its more than sailing
to a destination isn’t it?
It’s about
transporting a hot pot of chili to the raft up in a tippy dink that you haven’t rowed in three years.
Chili cookin hot on the stove
It’s about
finding a lost widget in your tool box that just may keep the boat sailing/running awhile longer.
It’s about
taking multiple bearings fromyour rolling deck on the freighter that was hiding
behind Egmont Key only a moment ago to determine whether it will split your craft in half or
just graze the stern as you cross the shipping lane with a screaming, side spitting, over-heated engine and tired sails straining
to find a weak wind.
It’s about
figuring out how to get 12 gallons of gas in a six gallon tank should you have to motor the whole cruise.
Nav Station
It’s about
your three fixes defining a SMALL triangle on your chart right where you think you should be when your GPS tells you to head
South West towards a North East mark.
But mostly it’s
about……..
“Island Girl. . . , Island Girl . . .Island Girl . . . This is HideAway
– We have a problem . . . . Over. . . ”
“HideAway
. .This is Island Girl . . . We’ll stay with you . . . How can we help? . . . Over…”
“I just don’t
want to go somewhere we’ve already been” began the Admiral “I want to see different things”
Walking along “A”
dock on a cold winter’s night shivering in the gusty wind the Capt countered.“Nothing is ever the same on the water from one minute to the next so does it really matter where we go?”
BOCA CIEGA YACHT CLUB
GULFPORT FLORIDA USA
Huddling closer
the Admiral continued “I know you want to go back, But we’ve been to Tarpon Springs so many times and Three Rooker
Bar and Anclote Key. Its just time to go somewhere else”
Reaching the near
south end of “A” dock the cold north wind really howled.“How
many times have we walked this very dock in the last eleven years?”
“Who knows,
but it’s still the same dock.”
“I betcha you’ve never seen a pelican dancing on the top of a tree.” entrapped the Capt
“What does
that have to do with…
“Take a look
atop that small Australian pine tree to port”
And there my friends
was the white underbelly of a full grown pelican, its feet clutching a branch that did not appear to have the structural strength
of your average soda straw. Cutting a wide arc in the cold night sky above us
as the gusty winds blew him sideways backwards, forewords and down, you could clearly see all aspects of his chunky body from
nearly any angle you’d care to have interest in and a few that would not have occurred to you had you not been witness
to the event.
“Now what
was that you were saying about never seeing anything different??”
“ OK, ….OK …. It’s Tarpon Springs then!”
ANCLOTE KEY LIGHTHOUSE
ORIGINAL WATER COLOR BY MATT MALOY
As the last of
the necessary things fell on board and the Admiral removed the first dock line the Capt noticed that Mr. E. had failed to
indicate he had ingested cooling water on start up and was belching more than the usual amount of smoke.“Use the phone wire Dave gave you and ream him out” Advised the Adm.
Already ahead of
her, the Capt had the engine cover off, the offending hose traced and removed from the 90 degree elbow protruding on the port
side of the engine.No amount of poking, reaming or anything of the kind could
improve the situation.Mr. E. always a bit temperamental when he doesn’t
get his way had developed a serious problem maintaining his cool.
Now my friends,
salty or not I’m hear to tell you that in the two plus decades of the HideAways existence in the Sunshine State the
mere mention of the possibility of low humidity as experienced in late May of this four hundred and forty-second year of the
Gregorian Calendar would have brought out a squad of merry folks dressed in white smocks to carry away such a deluded person
for his own good as well as the good of others.
Standing on the
bow the Admiral declared we can either go home or go out, “but don’cha think we have overcome way too much to
give up?And when do you think you’ll ever see weather like this so late
in the year again ?????”
“Well we
do have a pretty good East of North wind. . . ”
“Are you
thinking of sailing out of the basin?”
The Capt pondered
“Why not, the wind was forecasted to stay east all weekend”
Looking south towards
the entrance the Admiral noted “We’ll be almost dead into the wind for fifty feet”
Not wanting to
spend non-quality time on the rocks the decision was to run Mr. E. only out of the basin turn sharply to starboard then raise
the jib and main as soon as possible to sail the rest of the way down the Gulfport channel.
What could be more
exciting than to be standing in the cockpit of a cruising vessel raising sails and running down a narrow channel holding a
jib sheet in one hand, the main sheet in the other and steering with your other hand . . err. . Well maybe that was why the main halyard jammed before the spreaders.No worries, a slight course change solved the problem and the HideAways were on their way at last.
By the time the
HideAways made the Southwestern reaches of BocaCiegaBay a mystery had developed concerning
a few pieces of white plastic scattered about the deck and cockpit.
“Ummmm.. They look like pieces of sail. . . .”
“Omygosh
look at the main!”
Scientists have
long pondered where spinnakers come from.Over the decades thousands of research
hours, numerous pork barrel government programs and several books written concerning the phenomenon had failed to clarify
the issue. No living person had ever witnessed the actual moment a spinnaker’s life begins.Yes, friends a spectacle not seen in modern times was occurring in front of our eyes: HideAway giving birth
to a baby spinnaker on a bright sunny afternoon on BocaCiegaBay!
HideAway has eleven
sail slides in her mast; nine are made of an unknown white substance alleged to be plastic and believed to be approaching
three decades of age.It was the shattered remains of at least four of these
decorating the deck. Only the top two were holding the head of the main sail
in place, then a significant gap measured in feet appeared. Most of the slides below the spreaders were still in service.
“I guess
that would explain the missed tacks and slow performance.” The Capt quipped.
“Fine, have
your moment of hilarity” The Admiral ordered with apologies to Mr. Whitman “But, we have miles of up wind motor-less
sailing to go before we sleep.”
After many careful
and gentle tacks back in the general direction of BCYC, the anchor found the bottom on the East side of the bay before the
sun set allowing ample time for sundowners and the appearance supper and a fine table wine, sans the table of course.
After checking
to be sure HideAway had not inadvertently anchored in the Territorial Waters of Gulfport, the Capt. leaned against the cabin
top stretching out on the cockpit cushions as he did so and puffing on a cigar while taking a sip of wine, thinking what a
fine place Boca Ciega Bay is when a loud splash occurred close by.
The Capt’s
side of the story is that he glanced over the side in time to see a very large Sting Ray leap completely out of the water
flying full and vertically, its mouth, tail and stinger fully exposed, a sort of flying ace of spades with an odd smile had
aimed a belly flop directly at the Capt’s lap!
Fortunately for
all concerned the sea creature’s effort fell a little short and low but it required the Capt to find another draught
of wine and relight his cigar.The Admiral who had been below at the time
and did not witness the event, urged the Capt to be more careful about spilling the wine and included a caution concerning
the telling tall tales to which the Capt responded it wasn’t the tale that
was tall it was The Giant Flying Sting Ray!
A well stocked
galley should not contain the smallest portion of last year’s hurricane supplies especially the ones that you could
not give away to unsuspecting charitable organizations.If it does, this becomes
breakfast.With Mr. E. pretty much on sick leave how to get home without breaking
any additional boat parts became the focus of the morning’s sub-prime breakfast that consisted of something that sounded
like “ham” but has more in common with and less taste than unwanted e-mails.
THE HUNDRED YARD CRUISE
The building East
of South wind provided an opportunity to broad reach if not run before it under jib alone.A plan that looked pretty good if not written down.With the anchor up and an immediate jibe completed the Capt. realized just how large the standard jib really
is and how over-powered HideAway had become.By raising the rudder just a bit
and letting the jib fly farther forward than prudent another jibe that was more of a skid on the ice than anything else let
the crippled main sail rise to do a bit of work.
After two long
close reaches across the bay HideAway used her shallow draft to make a skinny water approach to the BCYC entrance. Sailing
around the corner to “A” dock the jib downhaul earned its keep inside the basin as both the main and the jib had
to be dropped at the same time. As HideAway drifted towards her slip, Keith asked
for a line to pull her stern to into the slip but HideAway would have nothing of it and released the line from her starboard
stern cleat and sent poor Keith tumbling.Mr. E. was risked for a moment to turn
her in as Hal, standing on the finger pier, threw the rest to the lines on board.
“Well maybe
next time we should raise the stakes a bit and try for the Pink Lady”(the
Don Cesar Hotel on St Pete Beach)
“We didn’t
anchor more than a couple of hundred yards from the channel let alone make it to the across the bay!!”
“OK, but
it was different wasn’t it?”
“You know
it was.Wasn’t it?”
“Giant Flying
Sting Rays, hot head motors, broken main and all.”
As we drove up
to the club house on Easter Sunday morning we realized parking was going to be difficult and the noise from the club house
indicated an unusually lively party was well underway.
The party was a
celebration of life of Henry Kemp.Linda had never met Henry and I only knew
him as a fellow Boat Captain in the service of our SailingSchool.We were perhaps the most uneducated people in the room in matters pertaining to Henry.
My memories of
Henry began with both of us looking for the only two extra large life jackets supplied by BCYCSailingSchool.Once we were properly attired he’d say “Let’s go have some fun today!”
and off we’d go.
A microphone was
passed around and the stories began with Henry’s niece who called him the “Hanky Panky Yankee” in memory
of his many escapades in younger years.Henry and his brother liked to jump off
a certain bridge into the river.She said the town cops could never catch them
because Henry always had someone in a boat below, or so it seemed until one day it was a police boat stationed below and the
young miscreants were detained.
Henry was a bit
of a joker as well.One speaker told the story of getting phone calls from someone
claiming to be the “Neighborhood Improvement Committee” calling to inform him of things he needed to do to keep
his house up to “standards”.
He noticed that the phone calls coincided with the appearance of Felicity, Henry’s sailboat, and one day
he decided to make a statement.Knowing that Henry usually sailed alone,
the hapless home owner stripped off his clothes in his water front yard, turned around and touched his toes only to hear hoots
and howls of laughter coming from Felicity.
He said there was not one place on the entire boat not covered with people pointing and laughing at him and Henry
was the most vocal of them all.
A tearful thin
man took the microphone and said that Henry took him sailing on Felicity even though he was a confirmed power boater.
I won’t name this person or any others as you may know them, however the story he told us that Easter Sunday
continues thus.
“Go to the
bow” Ordered Henry
“Why?”
“Just do
it”
“OK, now
what?”
“Lay down”
“What for?”
“Just do
it”
“OK, now
what?”
“Shut Up!”
The speaker’s
voice broke as he barely whispered into the microphone “That
was the first time I heard the water.”
He said Henry explained
later that what he heard for the first time in his life was serenity and he had a choice to make.“Henry saved my life that day” he said.And as
you might guess Henry’s lessons had more to do with life than they did with sailing.
We began to notice that nearly everyone who spoke began with or said that “Henry saved my life”.Realization gradually came to us that these were the people Henry saved from drugs
and alcohol and that he was able to do this because he was one of them.
It solved the mystery as to why the large crowd was so joyful and sad and loud on this solemn Easter Sunday morning:
They were following his advice.
