We're Going To Need A Bigger Boat
A long, long time ago, when I worked the weekend shift at a local radio station, I could tell if it would be a busy news day simply by sticking a wet finger in the air.
An offshore wind, especially in the summer months, meant that amateur mariners would find themselves swept out to sea in a variety of unsuitable vessels. Those would include small dinghies, airbeds and those big sponges you buy to wash cars.
These stories came bobbing from the depths of my subconscious this morning when I
was piping the Zed crew on board a small motor boat we had rented at Lake Windermere. The eighteen quid ticket had come with a comprehensive thirty second tuition session from the bloke at the kiosk.
“See that brass lever? Good. Pull it to the left and you’re in reverse. Push it to the right and you go forward. Have fun.”
And to think that some fools spend years learning about seamanship. The rest of it must be about tying knots.
So we set off…backing out into the lake which had looked so tranquil from the shore.
Now all I could see were red marker buoys (rocks) kayaks, canoes, rubber dinghies, yachts and fifty foot cruise boats laden with sight-seers. Added to that I had Mrs Z. yakking in my ear about something trivial.
“What is it?” I snapped, “Can’t you see I’m trying to concentrate here?”
“It’s just that…”
“Włó˛ąłŮ?”
“You’re still in reverse.”
“Yes, well, I was getting around to that…just give me a minute.”
So I spun her around (the boat, not my wife) and pretty soon we were puttering along in fine style and I began to relax. More than that, I began to imagine myself as Russell Crowe in Master and Commander. I puffed up my chest and took in a big gulp of Lakeland air. I was coughing for two minutes solid. Boy, those diesel fumes can really get to you. I turned to my crew – who were now green in the face – and saw that they agreed.
Nevertheless we stayed out on the lake for a respectable half hour and then I manoeuvred the boat back to the jetty crunching my forward and reverse gears to bring her in at a safe, er, rate of whotsits…knots.
The kiosk bloke was shouting as us, but I could barely hear him over the wail of the engine. Luckily I can lip read. Even through smoke.
“Put it in NEUTRAL!” he was yelling. I suddenly realised you could do this by leaving the brass lever halfway between forward and reverse.
Not that he had explained this before we set off. Mind you, there was no need really.
Some of us are born sailors.
