Engines and egos: it’s funny how
both tend to overheat at the
exact same time.H
ouse projects, work travel and a painfully damp spring
conspired against me as I readied my boat for summer.
With an orbital sander in one hand and a nasal cavity
choked with sawdust, I felt my blood pressure rise with
each boat that rumbled past and was launched. “That
guy didn’t even wax his hull, why should he get to enjoy time on
the water before me?” I pouted to myself. As the calendar flipped to
June my patience for boat prep was running on E. We had the boat
splashed and “prepared” for our trip to our summer port of Essex,
Connecticut. I put prepared in quotes for good reason.
Early on a Sunday morning we pulled out of the slip and slid atop
the water that reflected morning light like a sheet of glass. Karen held
our pup, Salty, in her arms; we even snapped a couple cell phone
shots to capture the start of the season.
“Dan old boy, you did it again. Does it get any better than this?”
While congratulating myself I couldn’t shake the feeling that
something wasn’t quite right. I listened closely to the steady rumble
of my Yanmar diesel and what I heard next made my heart sink:
Nothing. I ran to look behind the boat at what should have been
a steady spray of exhaust and instead saw nothing. By the time I
turned my head back I saw smoke begin billowing from the cabin.
“[Expletive!]”
I dove to shut the engine off and ran below to diagnose the severity
of our issue. Coolant poured from the overflow canister onto a
searing hot engine. I bolted back topsides to drop the anchor only
to realize yet another mistake I’d made. I had unshackled my anchor
the day before while doing some touch up painting. I now had to
scramble to reattach the anchor and drop it down. Time never goes
faster than when you’re drifting out of the channel towards land.
Karen and Salty handled the situation calmly (in fact Salty seemed
to relish the excitement) for which I’m thankful.
I would now, for the first time in my boating career, need to call
for a tow. BoatUS, I’d learn too late, doesn’t service the northern
part of the Connecticut River, so we needed to sit tight and wait forsomeone from our boatyard (only a mile away) to rouse from their
slumber and pick us up. As fast as time flew earlier, now it seemed to
crawl. Both the engine and I were desperately overheated.
After what felt like hours, help came in the form of a friendly yard
worker named Scotty, a hulk of a man in brown work boots, a sleeve-
less black t-shirt and a Black & Mild cigar hanging from his lip.
Back at the dock crowds of people swarmed to catch a glimpse of
this disgraced editor. Tomatoes were thrown, hushed whispers built
to a roar. “Guy works for a magazine with motor in the name and he
can’t even make it down river?” said no one but my imagination now
running wild with embarrassment.
“I know how you felt, Dan,” said Capt. Pike as I recounted my
early morning ordeal. “Especially because of what we do, we think
everyone is always watching us. Truth is, people pretty much are
only concerned with themselves.”
We swapped mishaps and mistakes made until I felt somewhat
better about my breakdown. The culprit for my overheating engine
was, of all things, a loose belt, something I was able to remedy quick-
ly. My ego on the other hand, well, that repair would take a bit longer.
The most dangerous thing on the water isn’t huge seas, sudden
storms, unmarked rocks or fires. No, the most dangerous thing I’m
convinced is complacency. That’s what I was in this case, I was com-
placent. It was a mistake I’m determined not to make again. I gave
my engine a thorough inspection, took the time to also go through
my emergency equipment.
As I write this, my boat is secured back at our Essex mooring and
we have a summer filled with boating weekends sprawled out before
us. As I reflect on my recent mistakes made and lessons learned, I
recall what Scotty told me after we were tied up back to the dock.
“These things happen,” he said as he took a long drag of his cigar. “It’s
times like this that make you appreciate the good times even more.”Mistakes Made
LOGBOOK
Daniel Harding Jr.
[email protected]20
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