By Mike Barber
It’s January and I love this time of year. Especially when I can get south of, say, 21 degrees North. After hurricane season it is almost a rite of passage to beat against the trade winds to destinations as far southeast as possible. The idea, of course, is to find warm weather, isolated islands with great tiki bars on the beach, and watch the snow on TV. As is usual for this time of year, that’s where I am now. I really like tropical fishing, scantily clad bodies, and cold beer.
No matter how far I go or how hard it is to get there, it seems that I always arrive with a variety of folks that I just can’t figure out how they got here in one piece. As I sit here I’m witnessing a fine example of someone practicing utter arrogance. You see, being a prudent sailor, I really like anchoring in the lee of an island. That means that the wind and the current are coming from the land. This is really important because if something goes wrong with my ground tackle, I will be taken away from land and an unfortunate grounding. Most captains like to be in this position with the “Mother Ship,” but they don’t seem to think as much about their tenders.
I watched this guy take his dinghy to the beach earlier. I have no idea why he needed to be there. Upon trying to return he untied from the small dinghy dock and immediately started drifting to sea. Then he proceeds to start his motor. Yeah … the motor is not starting. I have watched him pull the cord at least 50 times, and while he is out of earshot, I can clearly make out his expletives. He has checked his fuel twice, he has checked the breather on the fuel can, and now he has the cover off the motor. He is really staring hard at the motor as if sheer will is going to fix the problem.
Through the binoculars I can see that he does not have an adequate set of oars, nor is there any evidence of an anchor. He is more than a hundred yards from the dock at this point and there is no one around. That, of course, puts the onus on me, so I’m going to do what I always do and go help the guy. I’ll start by filling two “to go” cups of coffee (let’s hope he takes his black and bitter). I’ll launch my dink and tow him to his boat or back to the beach where he can get mechanical help. The hard part will be how to ask him why he would ever launch his boat away from any mooring before starting the motor. While you are still attached to the dock or your boat, a mechanical failure is a non-event. It seems like such a simple idea, yet it too often doesn’t happen.
