The Fashion Girl and the boat with no name.

A guide to how “not” to launch your boat for the first time.

Launching  your first boat for the first time is always a pleasurable and memorable moment in every sailors life. This is a recount of the launching of the boat that would become the American Girl. 

The Fashion Girl (April) as a young girl had sailed a few years  on the Puget Sound.  The Captain was of the grumpy sort and thought that children where only things that got under foot.  The inconvenience  mishaps should be either ashore or below decks when sailing.  While she enjoyed sailing, it did not bring fond memories.

My sailing started with my roommate out of high school. He owned a 14ft Sun Fish.  On days when the  wind blew out the waves and we could not surf, we would take the Sun Fish out on Newport Bay (Newport Beach CA) and sail.  Of course we were clueless and received many rebukes from captains of both sail and motor boats. I was in awe of the beautiful sailboats on the bay.  At 20 I met a guy who at the age of 20 had sailed Tran Pac, Newport Beach to Fiji, the Med and Caribbean.   He lived on a 1967 27 foot Viking sloop.  He was a sailing god in my eyes.  A few year later I Join Uncle Sam’s Canoe Club and sailed on four different Submarines.   While in the Navy I crewed on several sailboat. One was a 50ft Kettenburg Sailboat out of Sand Island, Honolulu Hawaii, named the Wind Wagon.

Later in my naval career I became a windsurfing instructor, and eventually as sailing instructor.  Mostly teaching military folks and dependents in San Diego how to sail small boats like Lasers and Lido’s. I had at my disposal twenty some odd other boats to use at anytime.  I told myself I would never own a boat, because one of my duties as an instructor was to maintain our charter fleet. Besides it was free for me to sail.  I did fall in love with our Santa 23.  Eventually I was transfer from my cushy shore duty job and moved away from Sailing job.  Live got busy for me and I ended up taking a 10 year sailing hiatuses. 

After my divorce in 2003 I was going about the business of figuring out who I was and what that looked like.  Unencumbered from tying to please anyone, the sailor in me had re-awakened.  I found a profound urge to get back on the water. I tried to be smart about a boat.  I was well aware of the cost to maintain a boat on the a water.  So I wanted a boat that I could trailer in the winter, but big enough to go on extended trips.  Long story short I found a boat on a trailer in Yelm.    She was an 7.5 meter 1980 American Mariner.  Green and black with mold and moss.  The interior looked like the something the Brady Bunch house threw up.  Gold and Yellow plaid  with gold matted shag carpet.  It was a real love palace.  I hummed and hawed about the boat for a long while.  But the call of the sea won out and I bought her. 

The boat sat in the drive way for several weeks as I pressure washed, scrubbed, waxed, over and over to return the boat to its original color or close to it. I put on a good coat of bottom paint.  It took me a while to clean up the inside. The boat was mechanically sound and all the electronics were in working order with the exception of replacing a few light bulbs.  I kept the interior in its original upholstery for the first season, but replace it in its entirety the following season. Every time I went below I could hear the Brady Bunch song drone in my head.  It had to go! Finally my hard work paid off.  The boat was clean, registered, insured, and ready to launch.

I proudly towed the boat to Swantown to launch.  I had earlier in the week secured a slip at Swantown.  The weather while not perfect for sailing was good enough to put the boat in the water.  Now the original idea was to just put the boat in the water and motor to the new slip. But as I put the mast up, rigged the boom and threaded the mainsail onto the mast, a funny urge came over me.  The boat was using it’s mental telepathy powers saying “Mark... Sail… Me…”  I was powerless to resist.  It took the better part of an hour to prep the boat for water.  Soon I backed her down the ramp and the moment of truth, She did indeed float.  The April tended the boat as I parked the truck and made my way back.  My heart was racing.  I was a excited as a kid on Christmas morning. 

Now pride being what it is, is a terrible thing.  It makes you behave in strange ways. A thing I forgot to point out is that I had not been sailing for nearly a decade.  I was unsure if I could motor without some sort of collision, let alone get away from the pier.  But pride would not let me admit that I was clueless on what I was going to do.  I had to go a long ways back in my memory banks to remember my pre-underway check off list.  I was able to start the motor easily.  So far so good.

I pushed off the bow, stepped in the boat and put the motor in reverse.  The boat just kind of sat there.  I was waiting for something to happen.  Now never having had the boat on the water, I had no idea how she handled.  I did not realize that I needed headway in order for the tiller to respond.  I also did not realize that the motor pivoted and acted like a tiller at low speed.  A very handy feature indeed as I later learned.  In fact I did not know that you could turn with the motor as assumed that it was in a fixed position.   I gave it more throttle and the boat began to move.  Oh ya, also I forgot the tiller moves in the opposite direction you turn.  So the boat was not going the direction I wanted to go.  At that moment I discovered the importance of good bumpers as we bounced down the dock.  I soon remember the tiller thing and we moved away from the dock.  Kind of sort of.

I was trying not  to draw too much attention to myself.  Or maybe I was too scared and ashamed to look up and see if anyone noticed that I was a moving navigational hazard looking for a place to happen.  I cut the throttle to slow down.  I then turned to try and spin the bow around.  Again slow speed rendered the tiller nearly useless and now I was heading for the dock backwards out of control.  Now I was drawing attention to us.  At this point I’m trying to appear that I am in control, but failing miserably.  Of course my first mate April is getting more than a little nervous.   In my frustration, profanities were spewing from my mouth, but under my breath.  Somehow by the grace of God, I miss the other boats at the pier and land against the dock.

April wisely tells me that she would like to leave the boat and that she is not having fun.  I assure her that it was a maneuverability issue and that I now had it under control.  Meanwhile an old timer in a small fishing dory asked me if my motor was stuck.  I looked at him as though he was out of his mind.  He reached over to the handle and gave it a quick turn.  I was shocked.  It was a miracle!, the motor turns.  The old guy said I think you’ll be all right now.  The light bulb went off in my head and I felt like the biggest dork on the planet, well at least on the dock.

I quickly regained my composure, schmooze the April back onto the boat.  We headed away from the dock and actually looked like I knew what I was doing.  I quickly felt like the Captain again.  Now, I was supposed to turn right at the end of the dock and head to the slip and call it a day.  But no, not me.  I said why don’t we take her out for a spin, just to the buoy markers and back.  A not very happy  April begrudgingly agreed as we rounded to seaplane dock.  Would you know?  there was a breeze perfect for putting up the sails.

April  at this point considered herself shanghaied.  I was surprised at how easily I had the sails up and we were sailing. The Fashion Girl actually smiled and looked somewhat at ease.  She reminded me that  we did not have any foul weather gear and weather was not all that great. She suggested that we should get to the slip before we get rained on.  Why do women have to have all the sense?  No sooner did she say that than it began to rain. 

Now  I actually fell right back into my old sailing ways and coached the April on what we needed to do to get the sails down.  I told her that we need to put the bow into the wind.  She nodded as to give me the notion that she understood.  I dropped the motor in the water and started the motor.  I pointed the bow into the wind and handed the tiller to the April.  She took the tiller and I started to go forward to drop the jib.  A important point in communication, just because someone nodes at you does not mean that know what you’re talking about.  As April had sailed in your youth, she has never been allowed on the helm.  She had no idea what I needed her to do.

I went forward to douse the jib.  I was at the mast loosening the jib halyard.  About the time I freed the line the boat made an uncontrolled jibe.  And then another and yet another.  This scared the crap out of me as boom and sails were flying.  I thought that I was going to be thrown from the boat.  I did not know what to say to April, so I blurted out “This is really dangerous”.  I let go of the halyard and dove for the forestay and yanked the jib down.  The jib went over the side and into the water.  Great, we just tea bagged the jib.  By the grace of God we did not run over it.  Once the jib was down the Fashion Girl regained control of the boat.  She later told me that it took all of her control not to laugh at me when I was clutch to the mast for my life.  It’s funny now, but not then.

I was able to get the mainsail down without incident.  We were on the motor and were heading back to Swantown.  I thought to myself,  Murphy’s Law had proved to be true, “Everything that can go wrong will go wrong”.   Everything did go wrong and we survived.  Nothing else could happen, right?  We were getting ready to making our way back down Budd Bay.  A tug towing a large barge of wood chips was bearing down on use.  As I was not familiar with the traffic scheme, I was unaware that if I had kept my course the tug would have past far to starboard of me as he was in the channel.  We were not in his way at all. Not knowing this I goosed the motor to clear his path and he motor stalled. 

Now a nightmare of scenarios ran through my head.  I pulled franticly on the start cord and noting happened. The tug is getting closer, and was looking really big and scary.  I went back to my Navy training and I did a mental check list.  I looked to see if we had gas, Check.  The fuel line did not fall off, Check.  Then I noticed the gas can looked like cheeks sucked in.  The vent cap was tight and the motor drew a vacuum on the gas can. I opened the vent and the can drew a deep breath. (note to self, open the vent on fuel can before leaving the dock)  I had to re-prime the fuel line and pulled the start cable.  The motor started after a few pulls and we were back in business.  The Tug slowed and turns towards West Marina where the log booms are and never came close to us. I felt like such an idiot. 

Now the rain was coming down hard.  The April was below deck warm and dry as I motored in the cold rain.  April took great pleasure in telling me “I told you so” as we motored back.  Wet to the bone and looking like a drowned rat , I motored to the slip without mishaps.  The slip is in a funky spot on the shore side of the docks and was a bit difficult to maneuver into.  I told April to go forward and jump across to the dock as soon as she could.  Having never docked before the boat before, I did not have a feel of how close I needed to be to land.  Being the end of a crazy cruise, my nerves were completely unraveled and I was less than calm. When it looked good to me I yelled for her to jump.  I could not see that she had a good span to the dock.  It looked to me,  I was going to hit the dock.  She made the leap across the span that she knew that she could not make.  She hit the dock and bounced off and went into the water. 

Man Over Board!  I killed the motor and leaped across to the dock and with one hand pulled April form the water.  She kept saying “I have the rope”, over and over.  I could see that she was hurt and I laid her on the dock.  In a flash I had the boat tied up and was attending to April.  She just cried.  I held her for a long while.  I felt racked with guilt for making her jump.  As a result of that jump she spent the remainder of the summer in a boot healing.  I dried her off the best I could with no towels, no change of clothes.  We limped up to the head of the dock and I brought the truck around and helped the April into the tuck.  With the heater blasting, heading home, I ran the day in my head.  In that moment I questioned the wisdom of buying a boat. 

As fate had it, it was the worst day on any boat that I have had.  Every trip after the first days has been fantastic.  How could it not be?  I was humbled on that day.  I have not done anything that foolish since.  Looking back how bad things went and how lucky I was, it’s a miracle that nothing worse happen.  My foolish pride had hurt someone I cared for. 

I know my limits and stay well within them.  I’ve had two man over boards since (Pup overboards) but that is another story for another time.  Take lessons or refresher lessons before operation a boat.  Know you limits and stay within them!..Let this be a lesson of how not to launch a boat.