Well, we had a spectacular launch and exactly one week in the water. Then came Arthur. Arthur, who was supposed to turn South. Arthur, who was supposed to fizzle out. Arthur, which wasn’t supposed to be anything to concern ourselves with at all.
Arthur is an Asshole.
While my Better Half was tying himself to the mast and battening down the hatches, the boatyard changed their mind and said that he couldn’t stay at the dock like he had previously been told. “Go away and good luck” was the distilled message. That was Cool, Friendly and Helpful. We are new boat owners, not experienced Salts. My Better Half is alone on a boat with an engine that has a bit of a problem (oil leak? exhaust leak? leak leak?). Arthur is heading his way and looks nasty.
He throws himself on the mercy of the boatyard. They are hauling out other peoples boats and are busy. Oh wait, they’ve had a cancellation and, good news!, can just fit him in to their schedule of getting rich from misery. They make him sign a bunch of papers, charge a whole bunch of money to do it, and proceed to haul him out.
Hilarity ensues.
Not really. So many things go wrong that it’s exhausting to detail it all out: The boat driver can’t back up the boat and scrapes our new paint job against the dock. The strap marks weren’t put back on the boat after it was painted so the boatyard didn’t know where to put the straps. This causes problems. Among the highlights: the boat slips out of the front strap and falls 4 or so feet into the water while my Better Half is still on it; one of the straps gets put around the propellor shaft so the boat is lifted clear of the water with all the weight on the shaft (and a bent can be a very, very bad, very expensive thing). And so on…
She finally gets back into the giant sling thing and is put on jacks in the very crowded boatyard. My Better Half is securing things on the inside and the outside with all haste. Haste, in fact, like there’s a hurricane coming.
He calls the car rental place and tells them to convert his rental to a one-way.
He drives to the 3 hours back to Raleigh, turns the car in and tries to catch a flight. Of course, with the impending Arthur-doom, flights are a little hard to come by…
Sailing Devilfish 