A Fine Line

There is a fine line between absolute brilliance and total crap.

You don't think so?  Well, listen up.  Here's my theory.  It is the nature of this species we call human to be imperfect. In other words, we all screw up at one time or another.  Even the most brilliant human being will screw up.  And those of us who are not so brilliant tend to do it a lot.

And you are absolutely guaranteed to do some really stupid stuff as soon as you puff up your chest and start trotting around like a peacock thinking that you personify the brilliance end of this spectrum.  Right?

Here's what happened.  When I was sailing in the Abaco Regatta, my friend Matt introduced me as someone who had circumnavigated.  Now that's total crap.  I haven't.  But I did sail to New Zealand and back many years ago.  So I said, "No, I've only sailed to New Zealand."  Did you hear it?  It was there in how I said the word ONLY.  That peacock was peeking out.

So, those of you who have read this blog these past few weeks know that I wrote about the pseudonymous BUDDY BOAT.  I said they didn't know what they were doing while I (puff out tail feathers) am an experienced sailor. I have sailed to New Zealand and back.

I should have known to duck at that point.  Karma was going to rise up and smack me up the side of the head. And it has.

I have become the Buddy Boat.

Seriously.

While I was in the marina at Merritt Island for a week, I tried to do all the maintenance I needed to do from figuring out my battery issues (another duh! moment when a friend pointed out that the breaker on my batteries was the problem) to repairing my autopilot, to fixing my running lights.  Then I contacted my dear friend on WILD MATILDA, a Ron Holland 43, who was also heading for Charleston, and we set up a rendezvous point just north of Cape Canaveral for last Friday.  In order to arrive at the waypoint on time, I had to get through a bridge before 6:00 a.m. when it started the rush-hour-curfew.  But I overslept when the battery on my alarm died overnight.  I started the day off two and a half hours late.

Then once I got through the Port Canaveral lock and bridges, and made it out off shore, my engine overheated.  I had failed to check my raw water strainer before leaving the Barge Canal.  I met up with WILD MATILDA, but he was always having to slow down for my little boat.  In the morning, my fuel filters clogged and I had to change fuel filters in a roiling nasty sea.  Then late that afternoon, we got 15-20 knots of wind over the stern and my poor little wheel autopilot, the Autohelm 4000, even with the new belt I had installed in Port Canaveral, could not handle the 3-4 foot following seas while motorsailing and I was back to hand steering again.  As I watched WILD MATILDA grow smaller as she pulled ahead and my arms were aching again, I was back there hollering, "Damn you, Big Boat People!  You're up there relaxing with your feet up and listening to your audio book, and I'm back here living an episode of Survivor!"

Finally, we rounded the breakwater at Charleston Saturday night around 8:30 p.m., and as we poked our way into the harbor, I was trying to steer my boat with one hand while holding the iPad with the other looking like the Chinese plate spinner at the Circus.  When I dropped my main,  I lost WILD MATILDA's stern light in the lights of the city.

My VHF handheld battery had died, so I had to engage the autopilot and run down below to call and wail "I've lost you!"  Like I said — I'd become the Buudy Boat.

But the real coup de grace came when we came into the Charleston Maritime Center docks on Sunday morning and WILD MATILDA's captain told me that there had been something strange about my running lights.  I went below to turn them on and see if we could sort out the problem.  When I returned to the dock he was laughing.

"Don't you see it?"

"What?" I asked.

"They're backwards.  Red should be to port."

When I had taken the red/green lens off to clean the contacts on my bow light, I had replaced the lens upside down.  That meant I had just sailed past ships and traffic for 300 miles offshore with my running lights backwards.

As I said, it's a fine line between total brilliance and absolute crap. There was no question which side of the line this little stinker fell on.

For once I'm not going to belabor the metaphor.  If you are a writer, I think you've seen it already.

So tonight it is Wednesday, July 27th, and I am about to go to sleep because WILD MATILDA  and TALESPINNER are due to depart at 3:00 a.m. for the next leg to Beaufort, NC.  We hope to arrive Friday evening before dark.  You can follow our progress on my SPOT page here and let me know which side of the line you think I'd treading on this next leg.

Fair winds!

Christine

Share on Facebook