I really wanted to make this first new post all about my wonderful new garden. But it was hot and muggy outside and I didn't want to hang out in my backyard tonight. I was too excited that my boat was ready to float and so off we went.
Many issues presented themselves as we made a not-so-quick departure from the backyard off to the boat launch. I will refrain from boring you with the details of my daily dilemma in motivating males (all three with whom I live) to action. Eventually my husband and two young-adult-college-age-still-resident-in-my-home-sons all convened at the Hastings public boat launch to splash my beloved boat for her shakedown cruise.
I nixed that launch site due to crappy maintenance on the part of the City of Hastings (down to one lane, cement eroded, many large rocks decorating the shore) and high water creating significant current and hiding submerged obstacles in muddy water. Besides, I hate all the No Wake zones it takes to get to real water. So off to the public landing in Prescott on the Wisconsin side of the mouth of the St. Croix River we went.
Arthur and Joren were in training mode, eagerly trying to gain approval so that they might use the boat on their own this summer without parental supervision. Things went very smoothly and we were headed downriver in a matter of minutes having departed from the convenience of a well-maintained, if not free, public boat launch with the luxury of a dock.
Dale and I were situated in the bow with Joren in command as our pilot. I texted Princess Kathy and River Rat Lumberjack Steve as we cruised below the bluff where their picturesque house is perched. And then the first ominous sound became evident as the boat lurched, ever so slightly.
"Joren, slow down. Dale, take over and turn around."
We continued to lose power as we turned back upriver, crossing our fingers and texting Princess Kathy with mile-marker by mile-marker updates as to our progress, We were kicking out a big, illegal wake as we entered the Prescott No Wake Zone. Just as we spotted Kathy's River Rat hubby the motor finally died.
Damn! This is swift current. Paddle boys, PADDLE!
We managed to get an assist on a private dock between the gas dock and a big Gibson houseboat about 100 yards down river from the public landing where we began our journey.
Dependable Steve came to my rescue, again. This poor man has had to help me off the river so many times I'm embarrassed to even count. Then again, he has also blown his share of motors and even managed to imagine a clever stainless steel propeller heist in the midst of pulling my pathetic boat off a wing damn last summer! So perhaps rescuing me is good for him.
It was a truly lovely night for a motorcycle ride.
3 comments:
Glad to see you back m'dear.
Great story.
Thank you, Faithful Followers. I am honored to have you as readers and it feels good to be connected this way again :D
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