Anything Mother Nature makes she can break and eventually wash it out to sea. The Earth’s maximum terminator is (drum roll please) water. Water can break down and dissolve everything given enough time. Water is patient – it’s been around for over four billion years – today and tomorrow – our lifetime aren’t even a tick of a clock. Over the course of a year enough people die from water related diseases to populate Los Angeles. Ten times more people who aren’t on boats die from un-intentional drowning than those who fall overboard or go down with the ship and drown. Ninety nine point nine, nine, nine percent of boaters never have near death experiences aboard boats. That’s why it’s a recreation – we make good times on, in, and with water.
According to lore, “what the sea wants, the sea will have.” Oversized egos make some people think the sea wants them more than life. They are terrified of drowning. There’s not a sailor who hasn’t had a white knuckled, green cheeked passenger who panicked every time the boat heeled or bucked a wave. I’ve never thought of reassuring such friends that they have a better chance of drowning on land than drowning while cruising. Besides, the adrenaline rush is part of the “90% boredom -10% sheer terror” sailing experience. As captain, my job is to project reassuring confidence as they cling to an extra PFD, and whisper the Hail Mary. Sometimes splitting the main brace is all they need to relax.
Water is patient. One of the informal laws of nature is that anything Mother Nature makes she can darn well break. She often uses water as the Terminator of choice. Floods, dirty water, droughts, mudslides, tsunamis are weapons of mass destruction. Is it any surprise then, when a sailor fails to take care of the boat – water is going to make a stealth attack and claim the booty as Davy Jones’ very own?
Such was the recent fate of a boat in our harbor. It had been an eyesore for years, collecting wasps, rotting ropes and canvas, breeding mosquitoes, pleading for a restoration. The frozen river bludgeoned her brittle hull, icy tendrils of the silent current breached and violated her to the point of surrender – her anguish silenced as she sunk.
That is a sad boat story. There are happy tales that better capture the sense of why we love boating and savor time on the water. Underlying many of these yarns is a description of a “close call” in the balance between fun and fear. Which reminds me…
We first met our son’s in laws for a day cruise aboard a rented sailboat in San Diego Harbor. Midway across the bay smoke started to billow from the engine compartment. I calmly suggested it was a great time to see how the life jackets fit and test the ship to shore radio by asking if anyone knew it was May Day. Peter, (the father in law) an experienced sailor and an engineer caught on immediately. He calmly opened the engine cover and examined the diesel engine while I grabbed a fire extinguisher (and George – oblivious to the situation – or perhaps because of – grabbed a beer). The problem was water – not fire – there was so much water in the bilge the heat of the engine was creating a plume of steam. He flipped on the bilge pump – George grabbed another beer and Linda snapped great pictures of the Coast Guard, Boat US and the harbor crew coming to the rescue. Water had it’s way into our boat – but we had a way off. We limped back to shore (with the automatic bilge pump cranking) – hopped on another bareboat, hoisted sails, cracked open a bottle of wine and negotiated the number of goats for the dowry.
Boats are symbolic – they represent hopes, dreams, power, and purpose. The boat that sunk in our harbor was a forgotten dream by a neglectful owner. Some among us, consider this to be a relief – they won’t lose sleep over it’s demise. The boat, all 40 plus feet of it, will be refloated, towed away and scrapped. Yet, peering at her topsides a yard beneath the murky surface was deeply disturbing. The river must have a millions of deep secrets. This is what happens when boaters forget to respect water and honor a boat. Water wins.
If you ever come aboard one of my boats – relax. Trust my boat – we take good care of each other. I’ll bring along a bit of sanity, a pocket or so of seamanship, and an intense love of playing on water just to convince you that there is simply nothing better than, well you know, just messing about in boats. It’s a win – win – win for boats, boaters, and water.
4 thoughts on “Water Always Wins”
Where are your boats, exactly? I’m coming to Louisville this summer. Let’s grab Brenda, take one out, get her drunk (my mom, not your boat), and make her tell potentially compromising truths!
Like the proverbial eggs in a basket, I keep my Boston Whaler (Finn), Sunfish (Solstice), Hobie kayak/catamaran (can’t remember her name-senior moment – I think she’s the Swiss) and kayaks (Big G, Banana, Chaquita and Orange Julius) in Rhode Island. Ex Libris(I bought her with $ earned from writing a book about reading, let me tell you sometime about her Barbara Bush Bimini) is harbored in Portage Des Sioux on the Mississippi River, north of St. Louis. Her dingy, the Epilogue Is in my garage. I’d love to take you and your mom out, maybe Sharon will get a new boat, I keep encouraging her that once a boater…
God morning, Thanks for the latest blog. We posted it on RiverBills today. Water does always win ….. Yes indeed.
See you on the river Bill
Peter was a top shelf guy, may he rest in peace