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Bertram31.com General Bulletin Board
Re: The Ubiquitous Docking Committee
Posted By: Mike Kennedy In Response To: Re: The Ubiquitous Docking Committee (Vic Roy)
Date: Thursday, 16 June 2005, at 8:12 p.m.
Posted my best docking story about learning the art and craft at the age of five on my grandfather's 48' Wheeler. If you missed it, ask me next week during the clear hour.
My second best was on a 27' Northstar (blow boat) that my friend, Bill and I rented for a day sail when we were in our twenties. We went by the rental agency the day before and convinced the skeptical owner that regardless of our tender age our sailing prowess was equal to the task. Even then my mouth worked better than any other part of me.We then walked to the dock to scope out the next day's challenge and asked the dock boy innocently about the spinnaker. "Oh, no, no, not on a rental!" We were a bit miffed and at that point Bill and I started comparing spinnaker stories, all ficticious. That's when the dock boy said he'd never flown a spinnaker and that if we would take him out he would hide one on board.
Suddenly, game on! but neither Bill nor I mentioned it the rest of the day or the next morning. When we got to the dock there was the dock boy on our boat with a possum-eatin-briars grin and a not-to-subtle gesture to below. Alright!!!
Off we went, and as soon as we were out of earshot of the dock our passenger is dragging the beast on deck. We get out a ways and I figure, what the hell, it can't be that hard. I've seen it in pictures and on t.v Not mentioning to Bill, nor he to me, that neither of us had even been on a boat while this art was practiced, I start rigging it. Well, after several hours of near death experiences, one after the other, and at least one mast-in-the-water knockdown we get the hang of it.We spent the next several hours quaffing cold frosties, enjoying our new-found skill, and as dusk approached we return to the harbor to discover that it is down wind all the way to the dock. Now don't get ahead of me here.
We pass the local water-side pub and the patrons all rise to their feet and cheer, as no one ever comes into this tiny harbor under spinnaker before. Air horns blaring, people yelling, what a sight. It would be like driving through Manhattan in a Volkswagen with a twenty-foot ladder strapped to your roof.
The one consequence of this that we hadn't counted on was the boat owner would be rousted out of his office by the noise. Upon seeing us he starts yelling and gesticulating manically.
At this very moment, influenced, I'm sure, by the afternoon's beverage I decide it would be a good idea (and probably safe too) to sail under spinnaker to the dock. The maneuver seemed simple enough in my mind. Sail parallel to the dock; at the propitious moment, turn a 180 into the wind, next to the dock, let the spinnaker backwind into the mast thus stopping the boat, then haul it down frantically and while the dock boy and Bill are doing all this I will hop off; and since the owner is there; hand him the stern line and I will run forward on the dock and get the bow line from the two hauling the spinnaker down. It was so clear in my mind that I convinced my crew that it was not only possible but doable and we were at that moment committed. The mouth again performing perfectly.
There are times in your life when you know that if you had a video camera you would win the $100,000 Americas Funniest Home Videos annual award, but alas, no camera.
Here's the picture: we are bearing down on the dock in about fifteen knots of wind, the three of us all drunk as hoot owls, we are going about ten knots, we are about thirty feet from the dock, the owner is a whirling dervish by now-in near hysterics, the horns are blaring, the spectators are cheering, the crew is wide eyed and I'm confidently barking orders.
"Ready about...Coming about. Drop the spinnaker." I swung the tiller over, the boat turned as expected, the spinnaker back winded, the boat, like an obedient puppy, sat stock still at the dock, the crew swiftly doused the spinnaker and I grabbed the stern line and stepped onto the dock, and since the owner was conveniently there still waving, shouting, and foaming at the mouth, I handed it to him. I walked to the bow and Bill handed me the bow line and we secured the boat.
When we had finished cleaning up and stowing all the gear we stepped off the boat and the owner still standing there was by now catatonic.
Years later I learned that he had quit the boat business and gone into used cars...much safer.So where were all of you when this maneuver was taking place? Now that's entertaining.
Mikey
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