As we look back upon the past year I thought it would be fun to see where this adventure started. With that, I present one of the original Boat de Jour posts from two years ago. Hope you enjoy the article and have a happy and safe new year.

Happy Sailing,

Capt. Puffy and Honey Bunny

Setting the Record Straight or Capt. Puffy Pants Eats Crow

Dear gentle reader, it has come to my attention that the most outrageous pack of lies ever perpetrated against the consciousness of man is being bandied about as if they were spoked by the Almighty Himself. From this point forward you shall know the truth!

The day broke warm and blue. But there was a foul wind stirring which was undetectable by even the most advanced super-dopler mega-scan radar. This evil wind would reek havoc on us like has never been seen in all of sailing history. But I’m getting ahead of myself. My wife, Honey Bunny, usually a kind and loving wife, and I set out in our Catalina Capri 14.2 from the boat launch imagining that we were leaving for yet another delightful day-sail on one of our many local lakes. This was our third time out in our new sailboat. We began, as was typical, by attempting to paddle out to the main lake from the small, narrow bay in which the launch is located. This is important, because the boat launch is on the southwest corner of the lake, so there is an almost insurmountable wind-tunnel like obstacle which must be conquered to get to the main lake. There are thick mats of impenetrable lily pads, forming an even narrower channel, boarded by a wall of cattails and muck.

Now imagine me, calm, patient man that I am, straddling the bow on my butt with feet dangling on either side, hunched over in what can only be described as a uncomfortable position, trying to paddle our craft with one of those collapsible, emergency paddles. I would take a stroke on one side and while switching sides for the next stroke, the wind would blow us back two feet. Oh well, only a few hundred yards to go, no sweat, I’m calm and patient after all, nothing ever riles me! At this point in our sailing careers, we were in the habit of rigging the sail on the mast after we were out far enough to have some sea room for this procedure. So after what seemed like an eternity and perhaps now more like 2 miles, we make it, with me having beaten the water to a frothy mocca latte’ and my dear, sweet wife at the tiller.

I’m the spry member of the crew so I am now tasked with bending on the sails. As an aside, we would later figure out that a really good time to “bend on” sails is back on dry land. Back to the present, what had seemed on shore like a light breeze on the Beaufort scale, had now become a fresh breeze, complete with whitecaps and all. And not content to blow like the devil, the wind came from all the compass points it could think of, plus a few extra for good measure. So after nearly being flogged to death by the main and jib sail, we are finally ready to set forth. For those of you not familiar with the Capri 14.2, it is a dingy style sailboat and as such, unballasted and if I were asked, not the most stable craft in the world. Anyways, we were jetting across the lake now at about 80 knots with the wind in my hair and my wife at the helm.

Since acquiring this, our first sailboat, two weeks ago I was in the process of reading several books on sailing and so was quite the expert on all things sailing. At this point I noticed she was not handling the tiller as efficiently as I thought she could be. In my calm and patient manner for which I am known far and wide, I began to gently advise her of this. Now to refute these outrageous lies that some people are spreading, I was not “screaming” at her. I was not being a “jerk” and I was certainly not acting like a “pompous ass”! I was simply mentioning that I had read that a gentle motion with the tiller would be more efficient in this situation. Not “what the bleep are you doing, trying to churn butter with that bleeping rudder!

With my keen sense of direction, I also noticed that instead of maintaining a uniform heading, we were zig zagging all over the place like we were rabbits dodging shotgun blasts on opening day of rabbit season. Now, if we were tacking this would all be fine and dandy, but this was not the case, it was simply a case of not maintaining a proper heading. And I calmly and patiently said so, in what can only be described as a very unsarcastic and sincere manner, saying “that perhaps we might reach our destination quicker if we sailed a more direct course”. Some people just don’t take constructive criticism very well.

This may be a good time to mention this. Boat healing is a new experience for me and although I have read about how it is perfectly normal for a sailboat to heal, this knowledge has not yet made it to my sphincter. So every time we would bear off, the boat would heal more and my sphincter would tightened so much that it would literally propel me out into the most extreme and heroic hiking maneuvers ever seen in modern sailing. The whole time, I was calmly and patiently advising my wife about all the wonderful things I had been reading concerning the finer points of sailing in near gale conditions. Did I mention that our sails had no reefing system in place so we were sailing “full and by” as they say.

By this time apparently, my calmness in the face of utter chaos was simply too much for my wife to take and she snapped. Honey Bunny caught me totally off guard, here I thought we were having a perfectly calm discussion about sailing technique when all of sudden she starts making all these wild and crazy accusations about me. About how if “I’m so damn smart why don’t I just sail the bleeping boat my damn self”. Well, to say I was surprised is quite the understatement. And the manner and phrasing she used to start her foul mouthed statement. “bleep you”? I mean really! Is that really necessary? Here I am, trying to be just as helpful as I can be in the face of our imminent deaths and she starts assaulting me with crass language and assaults to my character?

So now I’m finally at the helm, did I mention she tends to be a bit of helm hog, and it becomes apparent that those books I had been reading were written by a bunch of rank amateurs. Anyway, I won’t bore you with the trifling details on why this information was needed at this time, but lets just say the sailing conditions were a bit more tricky than I had anticipated. There was no mention of how to get back in the boat after you capsize. Just climb in they say. Not to mention how one keeps the boat pointed into the wind to right it when you are hanging on for dear life as you try to climb onto the centerboard for leverage. These are not easy tasks!

Fortunately, there were other boaters on the lake, three of which were on the scene practically before we popped back up to the surface. They assisted us out of the water and onto their boats, I on one boat, Honey Bunny on the other, and with a short hop we were both back on our boat. We were grateful for their help. The other boat rounded up some of our belongings and counseled us on not getting discouraged, and that it can happen to any one. If only they knew the treachery and mutiny that had only moments ago transpired.

The way I like to view this whole series of events is that it was a good learning experience. And the retelling of this story over and over with all of her outrageous and completely unnecessary “embellishments” to anyone she can corner is getting a little stale and frankly makes me question her loyalty to her unimpeachable crew. For some reason my wife thinks this whole “story” is quite amusing. Whereas, anyone who knows the facts would think she should be embarrassed of the way she panicked, lost her mind and quit the helm at the most dire of times as we were sailing under full on hurricane conditions. I have a good mind to turn her in to the authorities for unsailorly behavior.

Shortly thereafter, we got ourselves reorganized and were once again underway, the hurricane having passed and the warm gentle breeze with us once again. Now with Honey Bunny at the helm, me remaining alert for the return of more foul winds and with some trepidation, keeping my advice to myself, we set off once again. We sailed around a little while longer and then decided we had had enough adventure for the day. She sailed the boat all the way back to the dock stopping the boat mere inches away just like she had been doing it her whole life. Some day I’m going to mention to her that no one likes a show off, but not today I think. Looking back, the one thing I remember which had escaped me before, was how the water had a taste not too dissimilar from that of crow.

Sincerely,

Capt. Puffy Pants

Continued at “The Missing Transcripts of Setting the Record Straight or Capt. Puffy Pants Eats Crow”