"I Dropped My Frankfurter!"

Well the day has finally arrived; we are leaving. Rick has spent weeks working on Valkyrie, motoring her down from Long Island and trying to outfit her for our trip. Walter, the fellow we bought the boat from is a warm hearted, middle aged boy who had set up the boat mainly for living aboard and partying. There are things aboard like a television and microwave that are completely impractical for cruising, not to mention the more basic things he has done to the boat that Rick wants to change. Walter did install some great things like a stereo system and a fabulous GPS, but the wiring is a bit of a mess and Rick has had a continuing problem of sorting out which wire goes with what. He knew that there was a lot of work to be done to get the boat ready for our needs, but he has been consistently surprised by the number of new problems that reveal themselves as he works his way through his already lengthy to-do list. We’ve taken to calling the process “de-Walterization”.

Rick is keeping the boat in Baltimore at a slip in the Anchorage Marina, downtown in Canton. The old boat, Tortue was smaller and it was possible to keep her at a smaller marina in Annapolis. The advantages of having a boat nearby instead of an hour away are completely evident during this period of intense refitting. Besides the savings in time in transportation, we had the advantage of being able to tour the Inner Harbor and see some tall ships during the Sailabration (Baltimore’s 200 year celebration of the war of 1812).

I have also been working hard, cleaning up last minute paperwork and bills and getting the house ready for our absence. I remember from last year the difficulty of getting out on time without leaving anything crucial behind, so I’m expecting some snafus here, and true to form, we are finally ready two days later than originally planned. We make a big grocery trip to provision the boat and then head out in the late afternoon.

One disadvantage of keeping the boat in Baltimore is that, unlike our old marina, the scenery is quite industrial. It takes a couple of hours to get to picturesque and natural shore views. The water quality is also quite compromised in the harbor here, so you wouldn’t want to swim in it. This is quite a disadvantage on a hot day and the weather has basically been sweltering. Time for drinks I’d say.

I feel strangely unexcited about our departure and this surprises me. Maybe it has to do with leaving my college aged son Dewey behind; last year we sent him to family in Florida, but this year he is staying at home and traveling in and out of Baltimore on his own. He is not the typical young man in that he is hearing impaired and has Aspergers Syndrome, and although he has matured a great deal in the last few years I feel somewhat guilty leaving him to fend for himself. Rick also feels a bit like this departure is premature; the boat is barely ready and many jobs have been left to complete while we are underway. He doesn’t really know this boat yet and in many ways it is quite different from the old one. Very little has been stowed away and the cabin below is in quite a state of disarray. I guess we felt frustrated by the time slipping away and decided that we just needed to GO!

Yes, those are Otterbein cookies in the red checked bags!

Rick is excited about finally getting to sail this boat. The sea trial we took in the fall before the final purchase was basically to check the engine and there wasn’t any wind that day anyway. Then, before leaving Long Island this spring, the headsail ripped while attempting to install it , and with poor weather conditions for sailing anyway Rick had to motor virtually the whole way home. Now, with the headsail repaired, he is anxious to see how this baby goes. He unfurls the sail and immediately sees that all is not well.

 Houston, we have a problem.

The repair that was done was a cheap fix, even though Rick had told them he was willing to spend more to have it done right. There is now a gap of about 3 feet at the bottom of the sail that flies free away from the headstay. The top of the gap (the luff tape) is pulling out of the track it goes in and is threatening to rip again. On top of that, the furling drum appears to have come unbolted. Rick quickly rolls the sail back up and heads to the bow of the boat to do a more thorough inspection.

Rick stands staring at the sail and furler with slumped shoulders. I have rarely seen him look so defeated. After five weeks of grinding work, the thing you really must have on a sailing trip – the headsail – is messed up. He turns around and simply says, “We’re fucked.”

It is now a Thursday, almost 5:00. Rick calls the sail repair people and thankfully they are still open. The last sail repair took about two weeks, but they recognize their responsibility and agree to do a quick turnaround if we can get the sail to them first thing in the morning. So, just before the Key Bridge, we turn around and head back to the dock we came from.

Of course, just when we think things can’t get any worse, Rick is rattled and distracted and misjudges the best way to get this bigger, heavier boat into the slip. We eventually manage to get her in, but not without backing onto the line for the dinghy that is dragging behind us – there is a sickening “clunk-clunk” and Rick immediately cuts the engine. The dinghy is now cut free and the line is wrapped around the propeller.

I can’t help thinking of that episode of Seinfeld where Bette Midler’s understudy drops her hot dog and cries tearfully, “I dropped my frankfurter!”