It was a beautiful cold and cloudy day. Just a hint of fog and sea breeze and a steady drizzle. It wasn't exactly boating weather, but that's what were were about to do.
Frankly, I wasn't all that enthused about the annual launching of my brother's boat. Damp, dark and dreary aren't exactly ideal boating conditions, but the boat was ready. My brother was hauling it back from Rockport where it had recieved its spring tune-up. And boat owners don't bring their prizes back from the dealers just to park in their driveway.
Boat launching has been an annual ritual for years. For decades, I helped my father launch his (in much warmer weather). Then when my brother purchased his boat, I became his hired hand as well. One year I even had a birthday cruise, which is an exception since my birthday is in late April. This is one of the earlier launchings he's had since then.
With the tide on the decline, he was running late. The mechanic had accidently run the battery dry during work in the last few days. That delayed arrival. We hurriedly had to lauch my "Sea Goomer", a rowboat I adopted after it washed ashore one winter. Because we were already a couple hours down on the tide, we needed the extra boat to tow another rowboat out to the mooring. Otherwise, we wouldn't have enough water to reach the rowboat with the motor boat upon our return home.
While my nephew, Jesse, got the rowboats in the right places, I helped clean the boat cushions. Polishing boat seats doesn't usually excite me, but it was at that moment that the anticipation of the launch crept in.
My ancestors were ship builders, sea captains, merchant mariners and lighthouse keepers. I think my high blood pressure is a result of all the sea salt in my veins. When I started getting the cushions cleaned up, I knew we'd be back on the water soon. I was like a golden retriever, panting, tail wagging, fully aware that a trip was inevitable. Pretty soon I'd be sticking my face into the wind, ears flapping all the way.
We had to take the boat to Rockland to launch since the tide was down so low that launching it in the nearby river in South Thomaston wasn't feasible. The boat ramp in Rockland already had its dock in place that runs between two boat ramps. That was going to make it easier.
In launches with my father, my job was often doing all the physical things that needed doing as well as remembing all the things that my Dad would always forget (like bringing the boat keys etc.). Wesley's boat is much lighter and easier to launch. With the ramp there, all I had to do was hold the ropes and wait for the boat to float off. Any time I can launch the boat without getting my feet wet is a success.
Because we launched in Rockland, we had a much longer trip home than the short trip up the river we'd have from South Thomaston. The weather was actually warmer than it was when we pulled the boat up last October. We had a gusty, chilly wind that day and had to fight a North wind and heavy seas all the way into Rockland Harbor. It made us both wonder whether pulling the boat up earlier would be prudent in the future because the brutal temperatures weren't just any fun. We'll probably say the same things this year when we pull the boat in late fall amidst similar conditions.
The only boats on the water on this spring day were a few working boats, the Vinalhaven ferry and a few lobstermen. Apparently, none of the other pleasure boaters craved the gorgeous conditions of a dank, drizzling early May afternoon. Weather forecasters were saying we weren't going to get much rain. They had also said it was to be sunny that day. I was fully expecting the rain to increase as soon as we pulled away from the dock. Sure enough, it did. But with any boat trip with my brother, I can usually recount conditions that were much worse. Considering the seas were light and there was hardly any wind, this was a pleasure cruise. I had my winter coat on, my hood pulled up and my winter gloves keeping me warm. Rain or sea splash couldn't touch me.
We hit some seas rounding Owls Head Light, which was on by way, but otherwise, it was a smooth trip.
Of course, the launching and the trip along the Owls Head shoreline en route home, had distracted our focus away from the tide. By the time we reached our cove, it was questionable whether we'd have enough water. I've pushed my brother's boat halfway out our cove at low tide in the middle of August, but I wasn't hoping for that opportunity in early May. We got the oars ready, and he had the motor up as we edge our way through the cove. Three feet of water decreased to two and then one-and-a-half. As we neared the mooring, he cut the engine, and we paddled the last few feet to tie up the boat.
Jesse and I hurriedly hopped into the tiny rowboat, which my brother hasn't given a name yet. All three of us couldn't fit in the rowboat at once. So Jesse would drop me off and return for my brother. The water was shallow, but it looked like we might have a clear path to the shore for me to step out. That optimism ended when the bottom of the boat ran aground on the mud. I was able to pole us forward a bit, but there was no escaping a barefoot walk through the icy waters and sticky mud. I shed my shoes and socks and stepped out. The mud is actually a bit warm. The walk wasn't as cold as it was a few years ago when we had to do that same things in late October. It took hours for my feet to warm up that day, but it provided plenty of laughs for our neighbors who watched us have to wade ashore.
Wes had to do the mud walk as well and dragged the boat with Jesse sitting inside.
Afterwards, Jesse stood on front lawn shivering in the rain looking less than excited about the adventure. I was wet and cold. My feet still had mud caked on them. But I was happy. I tell people that when I'm wearing my red winter coat, that isn't good. It is a sure sign of cold and miserable weather. But, if I'm wearing that coat and I'm smiling, it means I probably just got out of the boat.
A boat trip in the warm temperatures of July and August is always a treat, but a trip in early May certainly isn't boring. Just ask our neighbors.
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