Finding Direction: The Wind Vane Chronicles

I haven’t written about “THE BOAT” lately.  Oversight on my part.  Although, you have to admit there’s been a whole lot of other activity going on in our lives.  Like Tom’s 5 heart-bypasses March 31 and recovery.  My 1,750 mile trip to Texas and back.  Etc, etc.

But, believe me, boat happenings have been ongoing this entire time.

Some of you will remember me discussing das boot last summer when I briefly went back through our “boat history” up until he purchased the present one.  Last August I talked about his purchase of some expensive marine plywood to make a new “door” down into the tiny cabin.  I called them “Men Don’t Measure” and “Men Don’t Measure – Conclusion” for obvious reasons, when you read the posts. (Here and here – the photos are gone, but the links still there, so you’ll “get” the picture.  ha!)

He’s had the boat for two and one half years, so this was to be his third summer of sailing fun in the sun, blowing with the breezes, leaving all of the cares and worries of the world behind.  He had gotten the boat “all fixed up,” which is interpreted “everything he could think of to load the boat up with that I would be willing to go along with and pay for, if only he could convince me the items were all dire necessities to keep him alive and relatively safe out on the water alone.”

He half-heartedly worked on staining his marine lumber doors for the boat throughout the winter months.  The boat sat in the yard next to the driveway up to the garage with a blue tarp over it.  Staining went slowly, then ground to a halt about thanksgiving, with winter not yet completely upon us.  But days were short, nights were long and there was an abundance of football games and other major TV entertainment attractions to keep him from having to even think about that second, then third, coat of varnish each side of all three pieces of lumber needed.

He  decided to wait until early spring to regain his enthusiasm for boat “work,” as opposed to boat “play,” and kept napping in his recliner.  But I told myself, at least he’s not out spending “boat dollars” (Greg & Patrick, you will remember that this is somewhat equivalent to “guitar dollars,” an amount that boggles an average wife’s mind, especially one not given to piles of shoes).

Early spring arrived.  Cool sailing days were just around the corner.  Tom didn’t feel well.  After a trip to the ER turned into a two day stay, with needed heart by-passes set for a week later, Tom’s visions of sailing on the breezes faded a bit from his mind.  Staying alive moved to the number one place in his thought processes and stayed there for another two months as he endured complications and setbacks with his health before he could even return to work.

About that time, I left town for a while, so he thought that might bring a good opportunity for him to, at last, get back out on the water.  But, he didn’t have the strength to put the boat in the water on the coast, get the mast up and the sails all alone.  So, he had to muster help.  That would take a little planning, but could be managed.

However, heavy, on-going rains didn’t cooperate, so the minutes, hours and days tick-tocked away what would have been excellent sailing days while Tom and his helpers watched helplessly.

Then, total disaster struck.  The oil well in the gulf blew and now not only Tom, who sails in the gulf of Mexico inside the barrier islands of Mississippi, but the entire gulf coast region had a nightmare on their hands.

Tom was not to be deterred, though.  A true sailor and captain persists in even the very worst of conditions, most of which were about to happen to him . . .

To Be Concluded next time, so stay tuned . . .

(Cheers, Greg!)  Dee