I knew it was going to be a good storm when I saw the lady standing on the bowsprit of her big sailboat and waving a machete at the guy on the boat that had just anchored upwind of her. Upwind wasn’t the problem. There was plenty of space.
Where do they find those guys with the clean fingernails? You’ve seen them; they always show up in the technical manuals. And why are their clothes so fresh? And where is the blood? I’ve never seen these people around any boats. Maybe that’s the answer to my questions: They aren’t around any boats.
She was a log canoe, and I found her lying on the shore of the marsh after a hurricane. It’d been a really bad storm, and she was washed far in from the water. When I parted the marsh weeds around me and stepped out onto the riverbank, I stared at her in amazement. I knew they hadn’t built log canoes for a long time.
I went to a birthday party a few months ago. Many good friends were there; most were old friends, and most were boaters. As I sipped a draft, the ambience of the party brought a question to mind: Where do marinas come from? And the questions ran on in my head. What goes into making a marina special? Do they just sit on shore, taken for granted by those of us who stop there?
I love anchoring. Most of us do. Whether it’s hanging out on a Sunday afternoon or anchoring overnight, this is a special part of boating. So I’m not going to tell you about how wonderful it is because you know that. And I’m not going to give a lesson on how to anchor because most of us know about this, too. I’m going to tell you about some of the anchoring problems we’ve encountered and how to avoid them and make it all fun.
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