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06/23/2008: "Shake-Down Cruise I"
My trip to Argentina last year nearly bankrupted me. Besides the financial cost which, because of inflation in Argentina had been nearly one third higher by the time I was done, I lost all the artwork on my way out of town. Blogs I wrote last August explain it all. But I still had one thing I had to do. Since I’d received a small faculty grant from the college to cover some things related to possible student and cultural exchange I was to do an exhibition upon my return of the work I’d done while in-country. The college would have let me off the hook since the work was probably floating down the Rio Primiero but I felt a need to rise above the whole experience and reprise, or at least revisit the work I’d done there so I could put up a good show.
I assumed since the images were fresh in my mind that I would be able to get to them rather quickly. But a year went by before I even began to feel like I had a moment to myself. Finally I began to realize that I wasn’t going to get these things started if I didn’t have a change in my standard lifestyle. They would always take the back seat to what I was doing at school and in my studio. Finally it hit me…I made arrangements with two friends who have boats up on Lake Erie. One is a 36 foot Catalina sail boat and the other an old restored 40 foot wooden sail boat built in 1958 and newly restored. I contacted both skippers, explained what I needed to accomplish and asked if I could trade a painting or something for free time on their boats. My friend Alan said “no problem…it won’t cost me anything more than I already pay to keep the boat in the marina. Besides I’ll know that each weekend I’ll have at least one crew member.”
My other friend said pretty much the same thing. He had the bigger boat, had never sailed it yet as he was working on it all winter to be able to get it into the water for the first time since he purchased it. “Great he said, I’ll need crew!”
OK. Done and done. Now I have two periods during the summer when I can sneak away and just paint. Great! I was excited. That was back in December or January as I recall. I anticipated my weeks on the lake all winter and spring. It was constantly on the back of my mind. Since I wasn’t taking any kind of traveling vacation this year (too broke because of last summers events in Cordoba) I yearned for these two summer sessions on the lake making watercolors and learning a bit more about sailing.
Finally, school was out. I began looking at my calendar to find some weeks I could untangle from whatever commitments I’d made earlier. There it was the last week of May through the second week of June. Perfect! The weather was just beginning to change on what they call the North Coast of the United States. It was a chilly day when I met Alan and friend Judy at the marina. Judy had spent her last year sailing from Northern Ohio through rivers and canals to the east coast where she and her boyfriend Paul intended to sail down to the Caribbean. Paul, an old military friend of Alan’s was retired and intended to spend it in tropical weather living on his 40 foot boat. Judy is handsome 50 year old, small build 3/4s Native American (Cherokee and Cree) with traditional dark hair and eyes. She always seems so centered and at ease. They were a good match. She was the only person I’d ever known who could get Paul to eat right and loose weight. He lost 60 lbs on their cruise she said. They were wintering in Annapolis Maryland when Paul had a mishap. He slipped off the deck into the ice cold winter Chesapeake water and had a massive heart attack. Judy had been inland for a few weeks to visit family. A friend who had planned on dinner with Paul that night found Paul floating in the marina behind the boat. That was last December. They were to be married a few weeks later after the New Year. Judy has now got some serious experience on a boat and loves sailing. So any excuse to get onto the water is enough for her and gets her a little closer to Paul. 
They were just putting Alan’s boat into the water at that point having stepped his mast earlier in the day. He was just free of the giant straps that they use to lift the boat off the rack it had slept on all winter. Alan had done some hull work, mostly sanding and a coat of new hull paint to keep lake things from growing while the boat spent the other half of its year in the water. I got to motor around from the service docks to the slip while Judy met us with the car. She had to bring me back to get my car afterwards.
We got the little diesel started . There was a pretty strong wind out of the North East. We made it up the alley behind the last line of boats to the corner where we had to make a turn to starboard. The alley or lane was about 30 yards, not quite twice the length of the boat. It was an easy pass between the lake side jetty and the opening at the east end of the marina into the lake facing the giant coal docks across a small bay. But to turn around in the wind as it was wouldn’t be so easy. They had put the boat in the water with her stern facing the lake. This made it difficult in the 15 knot gusts to get her turned around in the lane with the rocks to the left (port side) and the sterns of the boats sleeping restlessly in their slips to our right (starboard.) So we backed out of the crane birth and began backing out of the marina. We got to the corner as I was saying and Alan tried to swing the back of the boat around to the west so we would be facing East as we came around. The motor is always a little compromised when shifting gears. So shifting from reverse as we brought the front of the boat about then into forward left us for a moment with no momentum. A big gust caught us and began to drive us into the rocks…I could hear the sickening sound of the keel hitting multiple times as we scraped against them for a moment. Alan managed to get us off the rocks. We made another attempt at a turn…this time we backed into the next lane between docks which brought us out facing forward as we should be. But again a strong gust caught us just as our engine quit. Alan already had me positioned on deck on the starboard side with a boat hook so I could push off of any boat whose space it seemed we would offend. Ultimately we came up against an old iron hull two masted yawl. The captain was on board cleaning up for the season. It was a boat used to give lessons to boy scouts or kids who are city bound, or inner city raised. He helped me peel Alan’s boat off her side, place the boat fenders between the two boats so his iron hulled boat wouldn’t damage Alan’s fiberglass and ultimately tie the two boats together so Alan’s wouldn’t continue to drift into other boats while we figured out the engine problem. 
He let us cross his boat to the docks to hook up our electric so we could continue charging the batteries as we would need them to restart the engine if we could figure out what the problem was and fix it. Ultimately we decided that there may be moisture or some other blockage in the fuel lines. Since there was only an eighth of a tank left all winter it is possible for condensation to take place. Alan bleed the lines. Then we needed more fuel. We called Judy who was by then already waiting for us at the other slip in the marina where Alan keeps his boat. Alan sent her to buy a gas can and a couple gallons of diesel. Took her about 45 minutes before she appeared at the dock with a full can and smelling of diesel because it shot out when she didn‘t turn off the pump quick enough. We poured the fresh diesel into the tank and the motor started up with out a problem. We let it run for about 30 minutes to be sure it was warmed up and once again began in the direction of the marina thanking the captain of the old iron yawl for his help and his patience.
I was sent several times to the foredeck to secure various boat fenders, lines or other items that in the hurry to get the boat in the water wasn’t properly secured. The lake was yielding 2 to 3 foot swells with wind gusts up to 20 knots. , The sails had been neatly folded in their sail bag and place on top of the cabin beneath where the main sail boom would normally be. We noticed the sails lifting off the deck by a few inches in a particularly strong gust. Immediately I was scrambling as Alan suggested I pull up the one wooden fender from the side and use it on top of the sail bag to keep it from flying off in the wind. The wooden fender weighed about 40 lbs or perhaps a little more wet. It was tied to the stanchions with two ropes and hung over the side of the boat amidships to keep her from ruining her hull against the steel docks at the launching birth. I had to sit on the edge of the cabin leaning forward with my head over the side of the boat to untie the knots and haul the fender aboard. Mind you the boat is lurching in heavy seas back and forth and from side to side. At one point I almost went in. Just at the moment I managed to grab the lifeline that rings the entire boat to save myself a huge roller washed over the deck drenching me in 50 degree water which felt at least 40 degrees with wind chill. That definitely woke me up. Ultimately we motored around the coal docks beyond several marinas to Alan’s marina about a mile down shore. We met Judy there who helped us safely tie up to the Alan’s slip.
After that we went out for dinner, then drinks and back to the boat to sleep. Alan and Judy left the next day and I had the boat to myself. I began doing a few small watercolor sketches from the few photos I had from my trip. By the end of the my three weeks, in between learning where things were in town like where to get internet access, a good grocery store, cheap cigarettes, helping my other friend get his boat launched, a couple of shake down sails and the best bars to hang out in at night, I’d made about 27 variations on themes I’d done in Argentina from Cordoba, the Andes and even a couple from an earlier trip to Buenos Aires. That’s about a third of the works I lost. I think I’ll be able to get double that on the next 3 week stay later in July and August. And I made a couple dozen sketches of people at the bar like Dawn Marie when she got up on the bar to dance in the middle of biker week. I hear she goes by Killer Marie! I’m only sorry I wasn’t fast enough to catch some of her tats. And I got to know Jack, the german shephard at Daly’s one night as well. 
