[Rhodes22-list] Call yourself a sailor

[Chris Geankoplis]

Hey Joe,
	A great way to start off a Sunday morning, with a good belly laugh
and the thought that shit happens.......to all sailors, not just me (grin).
And as the great Curley in "City Slickers" says "The day ain't over".
Chris G









-----Original Message-----
From: rhodes22-list-bounces at rhodes22.org
[mailto:rhodes22-list-bounces at rhodes22.org] On Behalf Of Joe Camp
Sent: Sunday, April 28, 2013 7:21 AM
To: Rhodes List
Subject: [Rhodes22-list] Call yourself a sailor

 Hey gang:    

Murphy's law bites me in the ass (or stern, if you prefer nautical jargon)
every chance it gets.  We all know the bitter reality of the unexpected
occurrence, and the regularity of its visits to the calm waters (in nautical
jargon) of assumed regularity and unassuming expectations (most of us call
these "life").  But then:

Ass-bite #1,  4 August 1012:  A freak storm sinks my boat on the Bohemia
River (Upper Chesapeake) and it winds up on the hard for the rest of the
season. Insurance (very aptly and without a single protestation) makes the
entire thing better... financially.  The long off season, I spend upgrading
stuff and dreaming of  the splash.  The frosty cold spring did not make this
an easy roll-out, but the concept of roll-out brooks no delays.

Ass-bite #2,  27 April 2013: Launch date finally arrived. New electronics,
new bilge pump, rigged an anchor-riding sail, buffed out all hull blemishes.
 My sailing amigo (Spanish for friend) and I pulled into the chosen
launching marina (mine has no ramp) and were greeted with a high tide
(nautical conceit for "the greatest level") of praises on the sheer beauty
of the Rhodes 22. I blushed, but gave mature, but still quite foxy, woman
the $20.00 launch fee.  We rigged the boat and backed her down the ramp. The
hull was wet!  The boat still floated!  The experience of fate feasting on
my (apparently) tasty ass was done!  (or not done)  

Over the course of the fix-up season, the line for my centerboard came out
of the cam cleat; so, when the boat floated, the center board dropped and
wedged on the outboard side of the trailer's keel guide.  Our attempt to
refloat and adjust had the boat resting at about 70 degree angle in the
trailer. After some wrangling (cowboy term) we floated her again, scrambled
aboard like a furtive mouse (rodent analogy) and locked the centerboard up.
All was well, in a sense.

Ass-bite #2 (b):  A short motor to my marina showed that my mooring, in fact
all the moorings, were not there.  They're being serviced.  I am now tied
into a nearby slip (about four sizes too big for my 22 footer).  I have a
few band aids on my tender ass.  But you have to have stories in order to
call yourself a sailor.   Ergo, I am a sailor.   

Joe Camp
s/v John Dawson
Bohemia River, MD
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