a couple of stories for the bored.

[shores]

Over the years I have gained a vast knowledge of boats, mainly how to run them aground, and occasionally sink them.

One day a friend and I were running west along the central coast in a little boat that had seen better years and managed to slough of a considerable amount of sun faded green paint to liberally cover you in a lime green tint no matter how hard you tried not to touch the sides, when we came to a reef that jutted out over a mile and was at least a mile wide.

The swell was inconsistent and had quite a long lull period giving the appearance of smaller waves with the occasionally bigger set. We set a course to run around the reef and when we reached the apex we turned and started to head west again. All of a sudden the horizon became skewed with a set of waves that was, of course, the biggest set of the day.

In an instant we realized that we had misjudged the reef's contours and were at least 500 yards inside of the impact zone. My friend who was on the tiller, gunned the throttle and swung the boat around to meet the oncoming charge of water.

We were going to try and race the waves past the point of impact so that we would be safely on the backsides when the waves broke. The first wave was a success! Up the oncoming wall of water that was at least 10 feet tall, and with a plop, landed on the backside of the wave. On again at full speed we raced to get past the impact zone of the next wave only to realize that this was going to be close. My friend who was an avid smoker at the time mummered something akin to a prayer between the puffs, and let off the throttle as we went almost vertical on the wave. The boat landed with a huge splash and we were once again heading for the horizon to meet the increasing size of the waves in the set. The next wave was a monster, nearly 12 feet of liquid force comprising of a darkish hue that in other circumstances would make my heart pound with joy made my heart and stomach grip in fear. This was going to be close. With our eyes glued to the imminent feathering of the crest of the wave, we tore across the water and up the increasingly vertical slope of impending doom. It was then, as we were just about to make it over the top, when the boat, our beloved bestower of lime paint, went vertical, and then some. I whipped my head around to see my friend frozen in time.

Curly hair normally blown back by the wind, was temporally suspended in a vertical assimilation normally seen only after lightning strikes, eye's of determination and defiance wielded the scene, and the fierce glow of the cheery of the cigarette, being impossibly inhaled. His hand and arm bent at such an angle to give, if any, remaining ounce of power that the little engine could muster. At this point we realized that we were not going to make it and started what every surfer dreads. The feeling and knowing that there is nothing you can do, and that you are going for a trip over the falls.

It is the sensation of running against an insanely strong wind then suddenly, without warning, the wind doubles in strength, pausing you momentarily enough to let you know what is about to happen, and then hurltiling you backwards into space only to be tumbled like a dirty sock in a washing machine. It is a feeling like no other; I could only grip the sloughing sides of lime.

It is one thing to be hurtled around in the aftermath of a breaking wave, but to add a 1200 pounds of fiberglass and assorted gear including the pointy ends of surfboards, in close proximity on top of the shockingly fridged waters of the pacific gives you the strength to curl up into a ball and sum the power to avoid being hit by the impending implements of destruction. I soon popped my head up out of the water frantically looking for my buddy and after seeing his matted ball of curls hit the surface I immediately looked to the impact zone and saw that another wave was upon us. My friend and I ducked under this wave and many others until a long awaited lull bestowed us.

Breathless from the cold and shock of what had just happened we managed to find our surfboards and paddle them to a mile distant shore. We were now ten miles from civilization on a rugged coast that was being unmercifully beat by the rising waves. Not a word was spoken until we reached a farmer and asked him for a lift to the beach where our car was parked. Thankfully the the gate guard did not ask us why we were leaving at 10 o'clock at night with no boat on the trailer, but when we arrived at the house our house mates were there and asked us where the boat was. My friend did not reply but went to the fridge grabbed two beers, handed one to me and sat down with a sigh.

"Well," he said.
"It goes like this..."

END


As it so happens I have the affinity for running boats aground. Just the other day I was enjoying a nice day of sailing with a friend. The wind was light and hiking was out of the question. We were merrily cruising along when we happened across two fisherman throwing plastics for halibut. After a brief conversation then discussion with my friend we decided that we would be better of fishing for the legendary flat fish than sailing a smallish dingy.

After loading up our gear and setting out in a boat used for my side job, we were soon casting for fish. Never less, after one short bite and some time later, we decided to head out of the harbor for some different fish. We were soon casting for perch or anything else that might hit when I had a great idea. We would troll the shallows with swimbaits and see if anything would hit or lures.

Now, there is a tiny spit of sand that juts out where it is only a few inches deep and runs about 50 feet from shore. I had planned to run along this stretch hoping for a bite, but instead I found the bottom. The water was murky and I could not tell the the depth of the water, but the second the prop hit the sand I knew we were in trouble. Of course, as it goes, the second I run into a problem other problems arise as if the first was a beacon for everything that can go wrong. I soon find that I am in a foot of water with a john boat loaded down front and back and waves that mysteriously come from nowhere. The waves were only a foot or so tall, but in saying that my freeboard was only a couple of inches stated that any water headed my way was going to come over the side.

Luckily my crew was silent and kept the words of, "you are an idiot," to themselves.

I figured the best way to get us out of this mess was to lighten the load and at the same time push us out of the danger zone. So with gusto I hopped over the side and with the throttle in hand began to maneuver the boat off the spit of sand. Of course we took a few more waves over side to make it more interesting and finally made it to deeper water.

Sighing with relief and adding a few nervous laughs to the tight conversation we headed for deeper water to try for some rockfish.

With big fish in our minds we managed to catch a fish that had to set a record for the smallest fish ever caught. Then my partner in crime for this trip dared me to eat the semitransparent minnow of rainbow colors and with a flourish I opened the hatch and with a crunch, munched on the little fellow. All I can say is that, they may look good, but they don't taste good.

With the day drawing to a close we headed in. Then out of the corner of my eye I spotted a charter boat heading our way with a huge wake following her. I told my friend that we were gonna surf the wake to add a bit of excitement to the already eventful day. We were soon surfing the wake when my phone vibrated.

In a flash I realized that the phone had been in my pocket the entire time and that when I had jumped overboard the phone had to have been submerged. I was ecstatic that my phone worked and relayed this to my friend only to hear them yell that water was coming over the bow. I had totally forgotten that i was surfing the wake and had inherently gone too fast and was plowing into the back of the proceeding wave. After copious amounts of green water flowed over the bow, I slowed the boat and surveyed the damage.

We were an inch from having water rush over the sides and at least a foot of water was in the boat. The passengers of the charter boat looked on with mouth agape as we bailed with an energy only found in last ditch efforts to avoid impending doom. Luckily the seas calmed for a bit while we bailed and soon started to gain freeboard. Considering that I had almost lost 2,000 dollars of boat and equipment I pointed the bow for home and docked with a sigh of relief.



Feel free to add comments or suggestions.

If you guys like this I can add more.

[phishy]

you sure can tell a story...great job...far as the content....i hope/pray i never meet those circumstances..

Infact my last miguel trip i was on the wheel on the way home..crew snug as bug sleeping..Ive passed those cargo ships in the channel many many times. I believe by now i know what to expect. I didnt feel like slowing down so i just turned her a bit to come off her stern. Ship had passed and was about 3/4 of mile away by the time i made contact with the wake..but in flat seas out of nowhere a 10' wake came at me. Startled me for sure. Considering i was driving with one i closed sleeping that could have been a bit ugly! Think i learned my lesson and give them a bit more room. Cut that one way to close. Far as the one eye...good thing i was using my good eye..

[jodi805]

great story -been down b4 too!! at platforum Gina- 22' boat 4 dudes and the cpt. is in a wheelchair! i felt bad becouse i could only save myself-no one needed help except the cpt. if they did i coulndt help anyways-powerless..

[shores]

glad to see that I am not the only one.

here is another tale for those who like the last one..

When my friend and i decided that we needed a boat we pulled our
savings together and had a comical amount of 27 cents. This was a
good start.

Later, during the week, we were driving down the road when my friend
saw a grayish lump lying in the grass in front of a building. We
soon found out that the grayish lump was a 30 horse power engine that,
according to the owner, did not work. We asked if we could have it
and it was soon ours. We figured that if at least we could sell it
for parts we could make a couple hundred toward the boat. We took the
outboard to our friends house and found out that the motor was in
perfect condition with only the pull start rope busted. We soon had
early 2000 model running outboard, but no boat. As it may be, our
same friend had a neighbor up the road with a boat in the back yard.

It was nestled on a couple of old rotting tires, about 16 feet long,
and as luck would have it, a palm tree growing in the middle of it.
After closer inspection, apart from the floor we found out that the
boat was sound. With relish of discovering our new boat we carted it
down the street and started the process of refurbishing.

We tore out the Palm tree and the remains of the floor and soon found
out that the transom was bad. So we filled all the bad spots with
expanding foam and concentrated on the rest of the boat. For the
floor we bought some plywood sheets and cut them to fit. Using epoxy
mysteriously gained during the middle of the night, we sealed it to
the ribs of the hull and with an added touch of some kids sparkles
soon had a deck for our boat with the touch of glitter.

On the subject of painting our boat we had to casually convince others
that 5 gallons of navy grey and was needed for a non exsisstant
shed-somewhere-over-there, and was soon loaded into a truck bound for
the boat. Once painted we soon found out that we had logistical
problem of moving the boat.

There was no trailer.

So with the stealth of a ninja we decided to borrow a few thing from
the base. An old rusty trailer, a few 4X6's and a good number of
bolts. Frankenstein was about to be created.

Cutting the old rusty trailer down to the axle, we soon had the
skeleton of a trailer and started to make the frame. Mind you we had
no power tools and every bolt passing thru 6 inches of wood and every
plate cut to hold the bolts was cut or manipulated by hand. It was a
long a laborious project. But soon we had a trailer, never mind that
the wheels wobbled or that the thing weighed close to two tons, we
were happy with a trailer for the boat.

On the maiden voyage trouble was to arise in the form of me.
Apparently I am bad luck on a boat. But more on that later.

After using our friends truck for the maiden voyage we had another
logistical problem of moving the boat. I had a car and my friend had
no car. We soon discovered that by using the tow hooks on my car we
could jerry rig it so that we could trailer the boat. So with a
little purple Hyundai we would back down the ramp with a trailer that
weighed more than the car and launch the boat.

It was a sight to see us with tires squealing trying to catch a grip
on the ramp, but in the end we managed.

Even the locals gave us props, comments of, "damn, you crazy fool."
were given to us at the launch, but we received the compliments (or we
thought they were compliments) with grandeur.

The next story is of a trip out to sea in this contraption.

[sourcreamnjive]

Anybody that fishes with Jason is insane

Originally Posted by jodi805

great story -been down b4 too!! at platforum Gina- 22' boat 4 dudes and the cpt. is in a wheelchair! i felt bad becouse i could only save myself-no one needed help except the cpt. if they did i coulndt help anyways-powerless..

[Granite Goliath]

Great story telling guys, awesome detail. Sorry it happened though