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| Dinghy and grandchildren |
The “Can Do Girl” has single handedly moved refrigerators
down stairs, burned out hardened holly stumps, removed heavy air conditioners
from windows, hung drywall and plumbed in new sinks. If truth were known these events weren’t without
incident. Neither was the latest
adventure. I supposed my brain was
on hold the day I jumped overboard to save the dinghy
Moving the grey rubber boat from the back of Imagine to the
ladder for a trip into town, husband Ed dropped, not one but both of, the lines
used to secure the dinghy. By the
time he extended the boat hook and reached for the towline, it was too
late. The dinghy had bobbed beyond
reach.
Watching the action from the side deck, I knew I could save
it! I’m the “Can Do Girl.” All I
had to do was to make a long dive, swim out about 20 feet, grab the line and
swim back. No problem! Wrong! A
few calculations were overlooked in the excitement. First, the wind was blowing 15 knots creating a two-foot
swell in the secluded anchorage.
Second, I would have to swim into the chop against a two-knot
current. Finally, I’m pushing 57
and not in the same shape that I was 20 plus years ago. Not by a long shot!
Since I’m the “Can Do Girl,” I ignore Ed's “Don’t you
even think of it!” Before he can say more, I kick off my shoes,drop my sunglasses on the cabin top and
dive after the dinghy. I envision
a streamlined dive that would cut the distance I would have to swim. After hitting my leg on the lifeline
stanchion, the finely executed dive turns into a plop next to Imagine.
I surface quickly, spit out a mouth full of salty water, and
swim after the dinghy. It only
took about 25 feet of struggling attempt before I realize the small boat was
moving faster than I could swim.
Let me assure you, leisurely snorkeling and swimming in calm water at
slack tide does not prepare one for a dinghy rescue adventure.
Swimming back into the wind towards Imagine challenges one’s
cardiovascular fitness. As I grab
the swim ladder, the kayak splashes next to me. Ed has thrown it from the deck into the water. He hands me the paddle and says, “Go
get it hero.” I climb
into the kayak, gagging from salt water swallowed on the way back. Paddling
steadily I soon catch up with the dinghy now a quarter of a mile away. Why didn’t I think of the kayak before
jumping in?
After nearly falling out of the kayak while trying to board
the dinghy, I decide to tow the wayward vessel back. The dinghy jerks back each time a wave hits. Paddling in place doesn’t work. Tactics have to change.
I make a valiant leap into the dinghy from the kayak, rolling
over the tube and into the bottom of the boat. I tie the kayak to the dinghy. Okay! Now I have to lower the engine start it. Choke, throttle, pull and the engine
starts! Prayers are answered. Suddenly, a wave turns the kayak upside
down. It floats so I decide to tow
it that way. I put the engine in
forward and the dinghy turns in circles.
I straighten out the tiller and head straight. I turn the tiller to turn towards Imagine and get stuck
making circles again. The routine repeats several times. Tears of frustration
form before the light bulb goes off!
The upside down kayak alongside the dinghy is acting as a rudder.
With the engine in neutral, I lean over and fight the kayak
right side up. Letting the kayak
drift on a towline about 10 feet behind the dinghy does the trick. With a bit of confidence I move slowly
forward against the swell and chop towards home. Ed waits with the boat hook as I approach Imagine. It must
have been adrenalin that made me push the control past neutral and into reverse
as I pulled up to the boat.
Oh crap! The kayak bumps into the back of the dinghy and the towline wraps around
the prop. Immediately, I pull the
kill switch. The dinghy, kayak and
“Can Do Girl” drift away as Ed watches shaking his head. As I drift, I lift the heavy engine, unwrap the line from the prop and
pray that the outboard will start again.
It does. Shivering and sober, I pull up to Imagine realizing that the “Can
Do Girl’s” perception of her abilities don't match reality.
Ed helps me aboard.
He says that I scared him. “That
was crazy,” he scolds. “I wouldn’t
do it. Do you know the paperwork I would have if something happened to you? Do you think you’re Esther
Williams? It’s a sober realization
that I am the swimmer I envisioned. After changing into dry clothes, we board
the runaway dinghy to make the two-mile trip into town to use the
Internet.
Later I decide it was a day to have a drink. I drink rum and coke… and then a second
rum and coke… and then take a nap.
What did I do right? I took
off my sunglasses and shoes before I jumped. While I’m no Esther Williams, I am a tough woman who can do many things. Swimming after rubber boats is not one of
them.
