Saturday, June 30, 2012

Piney Run - How Not to Sail

My son and I fish at Piney Run several times per week.  He'd fish everyday there if I'd let him.  If we lived 2 minutes away, we just might.  My wife doesn't mind, because otherwise he'd go bat-**** crazy and drive us nuts, so it's some temporary relief for her.

We went there tonight with one of his friends.  As we were walking up to the pier, we noticed a mother and son debarking a sailing skiff from the trailer.  The son was probably about 16 years old.  They finally got the skiff off and he jumped in and drifted out as she pulled away to park the truck and trailer.  As she was pulling away, he started hollering at her to hurry up and stop wasting time.  It was then that I noticed he had a Mount St. Joe's t-shirt on.

She walked back after parking and he started hollering at her again to hurry up because she was wasting time.  I looked at him rowing in circles and noticed his Mount St. Joe's shirt again.  He pulled up to another dock so she could board.  I wasn't paying too much attention because I was more interested in pulling in another bass (and I don't mean a musical instrument).  But, I could hear the awkward and disagreeable conversation.  There was quite a commotion and him getting surly with her again.  I thought to myself, "If my son ever talked to my wife like that I'd......" Mount St. Joe's.

They then pushed away and they rowed in circles and fiddled with the oars.  A lot.  They switched places.  Some more yelling.  Mount St. Joe's.  I only noticed all this because they were within my casting range.  Finally, after about 15 minutes they called it quits and came back.

As they neared the pier on which I was fishing casting, I noticed the trepidation and hesitation in the mother's eyes.  And he berated her with much anger.  As if she could do not right and did not know anything.  Mount.  Saint.  Joe's.   "Do you want me to help you?"  "Oh, my gosh, that would be great."  I grabbed hold of the mast and the son with the Mount St. Joe's shirt got out of the boat and went to get the truck and trailer.  I then had a few minutes of pleasant conversation with the mom.

The son then returned with the vehicle and started backing it down the ramp.  Crooked.  Pull forward. Try again.  Other way.  Pull forward. Crooked.  Pull forward.  Wrong way.  Pull forward.  Turn the wheels.  Wrong way.  Pull forward.  Too far to the right. Back up.  Pull forward.  Pete.  Repeat.  This went on for several minutes.  He then got out and opened the hatch.  "That's a good idea.  He can now see out of the back a little better."  Then he closed the hatch.  Okay.  So much for that idea.  He then gets frustrated.  And yells at his mom.  MSJ.

He then says he's going to unhitch the trailer and lower it into the water, then pull the boat on.  "You won't be able to hold onto the trailer and it'll slip down the ramp if you do that", I tell him.  He gets frustrated.  Argues.  Gets mad.  Goes to Mount Saint Joe's.  Mom concurred.  They then switched places.

As we're sitting their waiting, I strike up a conversation with him.  "It's takes some time to learn how to back up a trailer."  "Well, my dad has a twenty three foot cruising boat and I can back that up just fine."  Joe's Saint Mount.

Pull forward.   Crooked.  Pull forward. Try again.  Other way.  Pull forward. Crooked.  Pull forward.  Wrong way.  Pull forward.  Turn the wheels.  Wrong way.  Pull forward.  Too far to the right.  Back up.  Pull forward.  Pete.  Repeat.

Son is now yelling at his mom that she doesn't know what she's doing.  Yes, same kid that did the exact same thing himself.  "I'll hold the skiff, you go help her."  He jumps out, they bicker some more and finally he unlatches the trailer and walks it down to the water.  She then backs to the water and they rehook it.  I pull the skiff forward.  "Pull the winch cable down to the boat, hook it up, and then winch it up to the trailer.  It'll be easier that way", I tell him.  "Okay."  He pulls it about 4 ft.  Stops.  Then wades out to the boat and pulls it by hand.  Good grief.  Mount.  Saint.  Joseph's.

At this point I walk away and begin fishing.  He knows what he's doing.  You know that by the way he talks. He starts lifting up the trailer while it's in the water to re-position it.  Now and then I peak over my shoulder to take note of their progress.  He finally gets it on the trailer.  Mom pulls forward, they both get out and shout out some big thanks.  "You're welcome.  Good luck on your next trip!"

They get in the car and I watch them pull away.  "Son - take a look.  They're driving away and they didn't even lower the sail."  Sail is still in full mast.  Fifteen feet into the air.  Flapping violently in the wind.  They'll figure it out eventually.  It may be when the boom snaps off, but they'll figure it out.

We fish for another 15 minutes, then finally get kicked out because the park is closing.  As we are driving down the road out of the park I noticed a car to the side of the road.  It's some lady and her son lowering the sail on the boat on their trailer.

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