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The Worst Launch, Ever
Weve all seen, done, or heard about a lot of goofy mishaps when it comes to being a boat owner. But rarely do so many weird things happen in a single outing. Some might call it the perfect storm, I think if were referencing movie titles, A Weekend at Bernies might be more appropriate. Regretfully, this is all true.
Get the call mid-week saying were launching the homemade skiff this weekend. This is something I cannot miss. Visions of super redneck vessels fill my head. Lawn chair seats, recycled horseshoe oar locks, banjos playing in the background, teeth numbering almost in the double digits, etc. Although I know that real plans were procured (from the interwebs) and videos watched (on youtube), I also know the captain of this vessel. Hes very handy, but also, oh I dunno, shall we say, thrifty. He made a 10 hour one way trip to pick up a specific tiller steer motor, just to save a few bucks. He claimed weight savings and etc, but we all know for a fact if he doesnt feel hes sticking it to the seller, hes not involved in the deal. So I negotiate my hall pass (much like the draft, I traded my first round weekend to the wife for multiple girls nights out) and head towards saltwater.
Get to the boat barn and there she is. Im struck by the color. Its a common color for my buddy, but to me it looks like something that might have come out of the topside of one of my kids with a stomach bug. I learn the boat is made from debris from a construction site down the street from his house. Leftover PVC pipe, scrap wood, bad decisions, and an enormous amount of faith in the nautical laws of water displacement. Not really, but thats what I got out of it.
After several long hours being over-served at the local watering hole that evening, decide that we need to check and see if it floats before anything else. Its suggested we throw it in a local developments members only pool. I was in favor. Law abiders amongst us felt that was not in our collective best interests, particularly given our present sobriety levels. So launch the tub at the ramp. Surprisingly (to me) it didnt sink. Hurrays from the crowd (by crowd, I mean the couple truckloads of our crew) that went to watch the launch in the hopes it would at least take on water, if not sink immediately. Kinda like NASCAR, you watch hoping to see the big one. Someone starts a famous speech Its easy to grin, when your ship has come in, and youve got the stock market beat as a cold dude is tossed to the Capt for christening.
Now let me say this, trying to bust open an aluminum can on a wooden boat is not as easy as it sounds. My bro tentatively taps the can on the front deck. This was met with immediate disapproval from the horde. Most every insult you can think of is instantly flung his direction. 47% of the populace would have decried bullying and had all of us crucified in front of the media. As if in retort, Capt goes to town beating the front of his new boat with a beer can like a child flipping out over not being able to get into his tinker toys. Ive seen monkeys in Cozumel trying to get into coconuts have more grace than what Im witnessing at the launch ramp. Finally the can splits and pours its sacred liquid on the boat. More cheers (less jeers) from the crowd. I dont think it was named the flying wasp but that would have been appropriate.
Head back to the house and sleep off the first round of success. Next morning we go to rigging between handfuls of advil and hair of the dog. Get the motor mounted and gas can in. Capt is trash talking like a pro baller. And rightfully so after proving us all wrong about his boat becoming an anchor or not. But now, were going for its first real test; power.
Drop the boat in again and we all watch as the Capt fires up the motor and putts out of the basin. Reminders of put a couple extra twists on those mounts and wear your kill switch are treated like a Greg Davis play call to Colt or Vince; totally ignored. Now things get a little weird. He bumps the throttle and actually gets on plane! Murmurs of approval from the horde. After a few successful passes barely on plane, the Capt twists the handle all the way open and goes to make his first real turn. Straight into the wake of a passing barge.
Im not sure exactly what happened, but the boat lurches hard left and starts hemorrhaging stuff overboard. The Captain. The milk crate he was sitting on. The First Mate. Empty Keystone tall boys. The Capts ego. All went into the ship channel and sank. Without a driver, the motor (with its kill switch clipped to itself) started going lock to lock. Violent switchbacks like a drunk pointer on blue quail till the motor popped off, ran as if on a frozen rope 2 feet out of the water, screaming as only an out of the water outboard at WOT can, then sank and ran for what seemed like another 5 minutes on the bottom. 5500 rpms, 30 feet under water will not only defy the laws of the combustion motor, but produce a helluva lot of bubbles. Im not sure how long we stood there in silent shock and stunned disbelief as did that really just happen? settles in over the crowd.
Capt and First Mate climb back onto the skiff. Keep in mind this is early March so its like 9 degrees outside with the wind chill. From our distant vantage point, Capt looked like a cat that just got thrown off the dock. Soaking wet and so mad about his brand new 25 horse sitting on the bottom of the channel he doesnt realize hes freezing to death. Not good. Couple of salty rednecks cleaning black drum on the table go pick up my boys and drag them back.
Eventually they got the now motorless (but floating!) skiff back to the docks and loaded on the trailer. Captain almost immediately looks for a phone to make the calls lets go ahead and get this over with, they might as well hear this from me. First Mate somewhat unconsciously hands him his phone (as you do). They both watch as water runs out of his iphone like some Saturday morning cartoon. thats not gonna work bro someone is heard to say.
and that, honey, is exactly why I need a little more money from the savings account so we can buy something safe for the coast. Like maybe an airboat
Get the call mid-week saying were launching the homemade skiff this weekend. This is something I cannot miss. Visions of super redneck vessels fill my head. Lawn chair seats, recycled horseshoe oar locks, banjos playing in the background, teeth numbering almost in the double digits, etc. Although I know that real plans were procured (from the interwebs) and videos watched (on youtube), I also know the captain of this vessel. Hes very handy, but also, oh I dunno, shall we say, thrifty. He made a 10 hour one way trip to pick up a specific tiller steer motor, just to save a few bucks. He claimed weight savings and etc, but we all know for a fact if he doesnt feel hes sticking it to the seller, hes not involved in the deal. So I negotiate my hall pass (much like the draft, I traded my first round weekend to the wife for multiple girls nights out) and head towards saltwater.
Get to the boat barn and there she is. Im struck by the color. Its a common color for my buddy, but to me it looks like something that might have come out of the topside of one of my kids with a stomach bug. I learn the boat is made from debris from a construction site down the street from his house. Leftover PVC pipe, scrap wood, bad decisions, and an enormous amount of faith in the nautical laws of water displacement. Not really, but thats what I got out of it.
After several long hours being over-served at the local watering hole that evening, decide that we need to check and see if it floats before anything else. Its suggested we throw it in a local developments members only pool. I was in favor. Law abiders amongst us felt that was not in our collective best interests, particularly given our present sobriety levels. So launch the tub at the ramp. Surprisingly (to me) it didnt sink. Hurrays from the crowd (by crowd, I mean the couple truckloads of our crew) that went to watch the launch in the hopes it would at least take on water, if not sink immediately. Kinda like NASCAR, you watch hoping to see the big one. Someone starts a famous speech Its easy to grin, when your ship has come in, and youve got the stock market beat as a cold dude is tossed to the Capt for christening.
Now let me say this, trying to bust open an aluminum can on a wooden boat is not as easy as it sounds. My bro tentatively taps the can on the front deck. This was met with immediate disapproval from the horde. Most every insult you can think of is instantly flung his direction. 47% of the populace would have decried bullying and had all of us crucified in front of the media. As if in retort, Capt goes to town beating the front of his new boat with a beer can like a child flipping out over not being able to get into his tinker toys. Ive seen monkeys in Cozumel trying to get into coconuts have more grace than what Im witnessing at the launch ramp. Finally the can splits and pours its sacred liquid on the boat. More cheers (less jeers) from the crowd. I dont think it was named the flying wasp but that would have been appropriate.
Head back to the house and sleep off the first round of success. Next morning we go to rigging between handfuls of advil and hair of the dog. Get the motor mounted and gas can in. Capt is trash talking like a pro baller. And rightfully so after proving us all wrong about his boat becoming an anchor or not. But now, were going for its first real test; power.
Drop the boat in again and we all watch as the Capt fires up the motor and putts out of the basin. Reminders of put a couple extra twists on those mounts and wear your kill switch are treated like a Greg Davis play call to Colt or Vince; totally ignored. Now things get a little weird. He bumps the throttle and actually gets on plane! Murmurs of approval from the horde. After a few successful passes barely on plane, the Capt twists the handle all the way open and goes to make his first real turn. Straight into the wake of a passing barge.
Im not sure exactly what happened, but the boat lurches hard left and starts hemorrhaging stuff overboard. The Captain. The milk crate he was sitting on. The First Mate. Empty Keystone tall boys. The Capts ego. All went into the ship channel and sank. Without a driver, the motor (with its kill switch clipped to itself) started going lock to lock. Violent switchbacks like a drunk pointer on blue quail till the motor popped off, ran as if on a frozen rope 2 feet out of the water, screaming as only an out of the water outboard at WOT can, then sank and ran for what seemed like another 5 minutes on the bottom. 5500 rpms, 30 feet under water will not only defy the laws of the combustion motor, but produce a helluva lot of bubbles. Im not sure how long we stood there in silent shock and stunned disbelief as did that really just happen? settles in over the crowd.
Capt and First Mate climb back onto the skiff. Keep in mind this is early March so its like 9 degrees outside with the wind chill. From our distant vantage point, Capt looked like a cat that just got thrown off the dock. Soaking wet and so mad about his brand new 25 horse sitting on the bottom of the channel he doesnt realize hes freezing to death. Not good. Couple of salty rednecks cleaning black drum on the table go pick up my boys and drag them back.
Eventually they got the now motorless (but floating!) skiff back to the docks and loaded on the trailer. Captain almost immediately looks for a phone to make the calls lets go ahead and get this over with, they might as well hear this from me. First Mate somewhat unconsciously hands him his phone (as you do). They both watch as water runs out of his iphone like some Saturday morning cartoon. thats not gonna work bro someone is heard to say.
and that, honey, is exactly why I need a little more money from the savings account so we can buy something safe for the coast. Like maybe an airboat