Maine Adventures

I have now been up in Maine "Down East" since June 1st. Been busy doing care-taking work for Papa's Mother-in-law who is recovering from hip surgery, and odd jobs around the summer cabins: bonfires to burn off two-year-old brush from fallen timbers a few winters ago, cleaning and organizing the cabins and the new tool room, sorting through old linens.


Papa






Cousins Jenny and Eric arrived this past Monday and have been busy at work doing their own tasks. Last night I stayed with them at the cabin and helped to discover various red squirrel nests full of empty acorn shells, pillow stuffing, shredded tissue paper, and such odd things. This morning we took the boat over to the other cabin (or rather cottage if you want to be technical) on the island across the river exactly one mile away.

We got busy right away clearing out the kitchen and putting in hard labor repainting and building new shelves. After four hours or so, it was really time to go. It had been storming all night and the wind was starting to really kick up again. We got everything together, down our rickety ramp, motor started, and over the perilous reefs that sit in front of our dock. Buzzing along in the gray sky and choppy water from the strong wind, but no rain.






Half way across the river, about half a mile from each shore, "putt, putter" goes the motor, then dead silence.

Yank. Choke out. Yank. Choke in. Pump the gas. Look for seaweed in the propeller. A few more yanks. Meanwhile, paddling with one small oar and sculling with a deck plank as another, Jenny and I are doing our darndest to keep the boat inching forward, if just staying in the general direction of home. Yank. About 7 minutes later the motor finally gives in and turns over.

Moving along again at a decent pace, we are home free. But we relax too soon.
"Putt, putter." Pure sweet silence.

We start this Yank, choke, yank, oar, plank, yank series all aver again. No luck. We are drifting in the middle of the river going nowhere, the tide moving one way, the wind the other.

A curious seal keeps popping its head above the water and ducking down again, only to resurface moments later. Clearly wondering why these humans have decided to take a rest in the middle of the river on such a gray, dismal, and rainy day.

Cell phone dying, but enough to make a call. "Papa, we are floating in the middle of the river."
"What sound did it make when it died?"
"A sort of putt, putter, then silence."
"Is the choke connected?"
"Yes."
"Did you check for seaweed?"
"Yes of course."
"Is the choke connected?"
"Yes! We are going to need a tow. Do you know anyone close enough to come get us before the rain comes?"
"I will have to come get you myself."
"Well should we go back to the island if we can manage it? We might make it with the waves."
"Alright. Call me if you manage a tow."

Meanwhile we have still been floating in the middle of the river, the seal still popping up every so often. We manage to turn the boat around using the oar and the plank. We have large plastic rain-ponchos on board due to the weather. I get this wild idea that we might use one as a sort of sail. I grab one end and Eric the other. We stretch it over the boat and the strong wind catches it beautifully. "Pull up the motor jenny and use the oar for a rudder! Look at that! We actually have a wake! And we are making progress!"





We move along in this manner for 15 minutes or so, and had we gone another hour, we might have actually reached the island. Fortunately, the makeshift poncho sail also signaled beyond doubt to the sole lobster-boat in the river that we were in need of some SOS. The "Michaela…" from Sebasco, another harbor away, came to our rescue and gave us a tow home. "Some weather to be taking a boat ride," Raymond says. "Thanks a lot for the tow. We will sneak a six-pack in your boat sometime next time you are in the harbor."

So, we made it home. Papa met us at the dock on the other side of the river and eventually took the motor in to the shop. Turns out it was an electrical problem.

I never will forget sailing the "Whaler" with a large rain-poncho and a rudder made from an oar. I suppose anything is possible if you put your head in the right place.