Travel Reference
In-Depth Information
I briefly showed her the controls and rushed up to the bow with the hook. The buoy was
coming up pretty fast I could see, and I could also see people on their boats near us smiling
and even laughing, I'm sure I heard a few beer cans pop open too. I yelled to Jude to slow
down and, lashing about, just barely managed to hook the line securing the buoy. “OK,” I
yelled, “I have it! Stop the engine now!” I tried to keep the edge of panic out of my voice.
Try as I might, the speed and momentum of the boat were too much, and the boathook
remained behind while we kept on going. It was hard trying to avoid the amusing looks
people were giving us, and at this stage someone yelled, “Come upwind to your buoy.” I
didn't know what they were talking about and chose to ignore them. After all, I had just
built this boat, I could easily figure out how to secure the damn thing to a piece of rope. I
took over from Jude and turned the boat around again and, grabbing a piece of spare rope,
I made a slip knot on the one end and firmly grasped the other. I went purposefully down
the deck to the bow. I told Jude to disengage the gear and come up as close as she could. I
was hovering over the bow leaning out with my lasso and dropped it quickly over the side
and over the buoy. By some miracle the rope went around the buoy, and at the last moment
I realized I should have tied the other side of the rope to the boat. I was determined not to
let go.
I hung on stoically as the slack took up suddenly, and I realized that I might not be able to
hold on! I tried to get the end of the rope to some point on the bow where I could tie it off,
but it was too late: the rope was slipping through my burning fingers, and I had to let it go.
I blushed fiercely as we rounded up again for yet another attempt and, this time, glared de-
fiantly at some wise crack about the handbrakes. The next desperate attempt was for me to
lean out and, with my foot, grab my lasso rope that had choked itself onto the buoy, flip it
up, and tie it to the mooring bollard on the front of the bow. This time, to Jude's credit, she
approached a bit slower and I leaned out confidently to scoop up the rope with my foot.
Just a bit further, a little bit more, just a bit more ... suddenly I was losing my balance! I
thought of me in the water and Jude on the boat; I just couldn't fall into the drink now. Alas,
in I fell, and there was no doubt about it: there was definite laughter this time as I splashed
about, yelling to Jude to come about. After an embarrassing ten minutes or so I managed to
clamber up the bowsprit chain and assume my rightful position as skipper.
I noticed that a dingy was motoring its way over to us as we drifted downwind away from
the mooring buoy. Soon the weekend boater appeared at the side of Déjà vu and, smiling
up at Jude, said “Notice you're having a spot of trouble picking up your marker buoy?”
“Yes, somewhat,” I replied, still dripping dam water all over the cockpit sole. “Try coming
upwind when you pick up your buoy; you will find she will automatically stop, and you
will be able to pick it up at your leisure.”
Search WWH ::




Custom Search