We had
planned a night on the ocean. Yes! Believe it.
Us! A night lulled to sleep by
the calming lackadaisical slap of waves hitting the hull of our new sailboat--the
music of a distant buoy ringing antiphonally; a fog horn in rhythm with our
dreams, and waking to the gentle alarm of seagulls calling for breakfast.
This was to
be a night to remember. Our children
would have wonderful memories of the family sleepovers on our sailboat. We had just bought a 22 ft. O’Day sailboat
and were anxious to start building those fantastic memories.
The family gear
was packed, and after work we headed down the Cape. The night was perfect—warm, full moon, the
water looked iridescent. We moor our
boat, so the family waited ashore as Dad rowed out to the mooring. Soon the boat was near enough for us to load
our gear.
What
now? We decided to go out to eat supper
and then go to the town’s band concert. Isn't that a good family thing to do?
Well, supper would have to be “take out”, since we brought the family
dog with us. And “take out” was fine. We
picked our spot on the lawn in front of the band stand. We ate, played cards, and took a walk, until
the concert started. Everything was
working out perfectly.
But back to
the boat, was a different story. The
tide had gone out. The sailboat was
tilted over in the muck. Such a sad
sight!
So
what? We didn’t plan on doing any night
time sailing. We planned on sleeping. But how to approach the boat? Should we all stay on the side sticking
up?
We walked to
the boat, as the smelly muck sucked our feed down. The dog went and rolled in some dead fish
heads, or something, and came back barking gloriously happy. We threw a ball way out in the water so in
the act of retrieving it, he was washing the stench off. We hoped.
It was
terrible. In order to stay on the high
side of the boat we had to continuously hold on. The darn dog still smelled. Since he was now wet, salty, sandy, and still
smelly, he constantly was scratching.
How do you stop a dog from scratching?
He also kept shaking himself to dry off.
We were hit with his flecked off water.
The
temperature didn’t drop in the night. It was muggy. And buggy!
The tiniest gnats came through the screens. Our fingers ached from holding on. We were hot, irritable, full of bug bites,
sweaty, and tired. No one got any sleep.
Suddenly,
the boat moved.
Ah. The tide was coming in. Soon all would be well.
Think
again. The tide came in excruciatingly
slow. Shore walkers were gawking at
us. Some asked if they could help. But what could they do? We just had to sit and wait.
Once afloat,
we motored out to Vineyard Sound. We
didn’t sail out because there wasn't much wind.
The sea was pretty calm, too—dead calm.
We thought
it would be good to have breakfast. I
had brought everything--everything except eating utensils. So there we were, taking a handful of Cheerios,
a gulp of milk, and a bite of banana.
That was breakfast.
…a handful
of Cheerios, a gulp of milk, and a bite of banana.
...a handful
of Cheerios, a gulp of milk, and a bite of banana.
…a handful
of Cheerios, a gulp of milk, and a bite of banana…
Lack of
sleep did us in. We felt dirty, sweaty, salty, damp, and full of bug
bites. It was only seven in the morning
and we were sitting in the middle of the
Sound dead still. There was absolutely
no wind. The sun was blazing down on us. We were sun burnt already, and the day hadn’t
begun, yet. We weren't moving at all—not even drifting.
We took a vote. Everyone wanted to go home, except the
dog. And that’s the sad (yet memorable),
tale of our wonderful, terrible, first, and last night, on the family boat.
