Re: Why did I do it?
Your story reminds me of a very sad memory. Our neighbor and friends
skiff was found with just the crabpot float in the boat with the
crabpot line going over the side. The pot was pulled and he was found
with the buckle of his Mustang worksuit tangled in the pot netting.
He had lifted the pot to throw it into the water and it took him with
it. This was a case of a very experienced boater doing what he had
done a hundred times. No matter how prepared or experienced you are
there is always a way to get into trouble.
fritz koschmann
skiff was found with just the crabpot float in the boat with the
crabpot line going over the side. The pot was pulled and he was found
with the buckle of his Mustang worksuit tangled in the pot netting.
He had lifted the pot to throw it into the water and it took him with
it. This was a case of a very experienced boater doing what he had
done a hundred times. No matter how prepared or experienced you are
there is always a way to get into trouble.
fritz koschmann
--- In bolger@y..., "Don B" <oink@p...> wrote:
> Why the hell did I do it? Every year or two I remember this story
of
> our student days and laugh like a drain. But now I have done it
> myself!
> A group of us, only two having sailed, hired an H28 for a boozey
> fishing weekend. My mate brought along his fathers ancient ghastly
> lobster pot, which weighed a ton and was festooned with hooks,ropes
> and weights. After preliminary beers, we motored out of the winding
> channel in gathering darkness. Brian called to his new brother-in-
> law..."Put the lobster pot in the dinghy". Bruce had never been on
a
> yacht before. He lifted the pot knee high in the air, staggered to
> the transom, and stepped straight off onto the prow of the dinghy.
> Our attention was focused by a tremendous splash, then nothing.
> Thank God, staring into the gloom we saw him surface, and some
> panicky helm work managed to pick him up without running him down,
or
> worse, going aground! He spluttered an apolgy to the effect that
he
> tried to hang onto the pot to save it, but when his ears started to
> pop, he had to let go!
> A dangerous episode when you look back, but we have always been
able
> to appreciate the funny side.
> Anyway, I rowed my Elegant Punt out to check Micro Oink's mooring.
> When I finished, I pulled the Punt to the stern, and stepped into
the
> bow!!!!! In a split second the bow went down, my legs shot
straight
> into the air (like Moll Flanders but without the ecstacy), and I
then
> found myself in the foetal position with my neck on the bow transom
> and water pouring down it! Only a body spring inappropriate to my
> age, sprang me to the centre of the boat, not a fraction too late.
I
> sat there breathless, and as is the way, most worried as to whether
> anyone had seen anything, or how I could give the impression I
always
> unboard that way.
> I remembered that student day incident, and reflected about how the
> (my) brain can turn to custard. Does custard allow transmission of
> electrical blips? Nope, I proved it.
> I am rather surprised the Punt didn't seize the chance to do me. A
> little while ago, I nailed common garden hose around his dirty
little
> snout, to stop him grubbing up to Oink.
> Ah, Punt/Man....it's a love/hate relationship.
>
> Don B
Why the hell did I do it? Every year or two I remember this story of
our student days and laugh like a drain. But now I have done it
myself!
A group of us, only two having sailed, hired an H28 for a boozey
fishing weekend. My mate brought along his fathers ancient ghastly
lobster pot, which weighed a ton and was festooned with hooks,ropes
and weights. After preliminary beers, we motored out of the winding
channel in gathering darkness. Brian called to his new brother-in-
law..."Put the lobster pot in the dinghy". Bruce had never been on a
yacht before. He lifted the pot knee high in the air, staggered to
the transom, and stepped straight off onto the prow of the dinghy.
Our attention was focused by a tremendous splash, then nothing.
Thank God, staring into the gloom we saw him surface, and some
panicky helm work managed to pick him up without running him down, or
worse, going aground! He spluttered an apolgy to the effect that he
tried to hang onto the pot to save it, but when his ears started to
pop, he had to let go!
A dangerous episode when you look back, but we have always been able
to appreciate the funny side.
Anyway, I rowed my Elegant Punt out to check Micro Oink's mooring.
When I finished, I pulled the Punt to the stern, and stepped into the
bow!!!!! In a split second the bow went down, my legs shot straight
into the air (like Moll Flanders but without the ecstacy), and I then
found myself in the foetal position with my neck on the bow transom
and water pouring down it! Only a body spring inappropriate to my
age, sprang me to the centre of the boat, not a fraction too late. I
sat there breathless, and as is the way, most worried as to whether
anyone had seen anything, or how I could give the impression I always
unboard that way.
I remembered that student day incident, and reflected about how the
(my) brain can turn to custard. Does custard allow transmission of
electrical blips? Nope, I proved it.
I am rather surprised the Punt didn't seize the chance to do me. A
little while ago, I nailed common garden hose around his dirty little
snout, to stop him grubbing up to Oink.
Ah, Punt/Man....it's a love/hate relationship.
Don B
our student days and laugh like a drain. But now I have done it
myself!
A group of us, only two having sailed, hired an H28 for a boozey
fishing weekend. My mate brought along his fathers ancient ghastly
lobster pot, which weighed a ton and was festooned with hooks,ropes
and weights. After preliminary beers, we motored out of the winding
channel in gathering darkness. Brian called to his new brother-in-
law..."Put the lobster pot in the dinghy". Bruce had never been on a
yacht before. He lifted the pot knee high in the air, staggered to
the transom, and stepped straight off onto the prow of the dinghy.
Our attention was focused by a tremendous splash, then nothing.
Thank God, staring into the gloom we saw him surface, and some
panicky helm work managed to pick him up without running him down, or
worse, going aground! He spluttered an apolgy to the effect that he
tried to hang onto the pot to save it, but when his ears started to
pop, he had to let go!
A dangerous episode when you look back, but we have always been able
to appreciate the funny side.
Anyway, I rowed my Elegant Punt out to check Micro Oink's mooring.
When I finished, I pulled the Punt to the stern, and stepped into the
bow!!!!! In a split second the bow went down, my legs shot straight
into the air (like Moll Flanders but without the ecstacy), and I then
found myself in the foetal position with my neck on the bow transom
and water pouring down it! Only a body spring inappropriate to my
age, sprang me to the centre of the boat, not a fraction too late. I
sat there breathless, and as is the way, most worried as to whether
anyone had seen anything, or how I could give the impression I always
unboard that way.
I remembered that student day incident, and reflected about how the
(my) brain can turn to custard. Does custard allow transmission of
electrical blips? Nope, I proved it.
I am rather surprised the Punt didn't seize the chance to do me. A
little while ago, I nailed common garden hose around his dirty little
snout, to stop him grubbing up to Oink.
Ah, Punt/Man....it's a love/hate relationship.
Don B