Our current sailboat, the Dove (30ft. C&C) has been dry docked for the winter. She is stranded like a helpless beached whale upon her land legs, her great blue underbelly exposed to the air, looking pale and vulnerable. It pains me to see her in this condition, knowing she thrives most when the breezes are stiff and the waves slap playfully against her hull. I love to feel her dance beneath me, never faltering at the size of the waves she meets as she spreads her giant white wings and races with the wind.
Dan is her kindred spirit and when his hand is upon her wheel, the two of them are magical. I have yet to be frightened when we have encountered angry seas and heavy winds, even when we watch as other boats flee to the safety of the harbor. We spent two or three days of heavy air and rough seas on our 10-day trek up the coast last summer, where we did not see one other boat in the stretch of an eight hour day. There is a quiet, unspoken confidence that the Dove has the desire and determination to help us reach our goals, and protect us on even the roughest passage. While she is not quite big enough to live aboard and cross oceans, she is a true confidence builder in the interim.
Owning a boat, is much like raising a child. When people see you in public with your clean, well dressed, well mannered child, they smile and only see the bright side of the family. They wrap their mind around the current moment and that is the impression that sticks in their mind, calmness, harmony, a pleasant family environment. What they miss is the dirty child, needing a bath, not cleaning his room as told. They miss the squabbling at dinner time when the child does not eat his vegetables. They are not privy to the arguments about bedtime, homework, and cleaning the cat litter box.
Boats are much the same. They don’t have to eat their vegetables, or go to bed on time, but they do get dirty and need to be scrubbed. They don’t have to do homework, but they require lots of attention and they have many parts that wear down and need to be replaced. They need constant attention to both their insides and outsides which ranges from fixing leaky hatches, replacing engine parts, to polishing and protecting weathered wood. I come up very short in being to help in the maintenance department. I am the anti-fixer and make a mess of almost anything I touch. I leave the mechanical stuff to Dan and leave my area of expertise to cleaning. I can do that. I can clean.
Last weekend, we went to visit our Dove, perched upon her land legs. Dan got to work fixing and replacing some of her vital organs, and I got to work scrubbing her belly. You would think that would be an easy and un-botchable job , as I just professed, I can clean. I got my bottle of environmentally friendly cleaner, a scrub brush, and set to work spraying, and scrubbing. I worked on small patches, and then rinsed with water. Dan hooked a hose up to a nearby faucet so I could spray each area after my intense scrubbing. The first time I turned on the nozzle, I gave the round head a twist and the hose nearly leapt out of my hand with unexpectedly intense water pressure. The water shot about twenty feet in front of me and I grabbed the hose with both hands in horror, thankful I was not pointing the hose in a direction that sprayed anything important. I quickly turned the nozzle in the opposite direction and reduced the stream to a manageable spray and rinsed the section I just completed.
My secret weakness, or not so secret anymore, is that I am horribly dyslexic. Every time I grabbed the hose to wash a new section, I grappled with which direction to turn the nozzle. When I accidently turned it the wrong way, the violent spray would ricochet off the hull of the boat and soak me. When I got it right, a nice, gently manageable spray would greet me and I completed my rinsing without incident. After a few botched attempts, I got pretty cocky that I had mastered turning on and off the hose.
About half way through the job, Dan had just descended the boat ladder to get tools out of the trunk of the car. I was proud of my cleaning job thus far and was hoping Dan would compliment my hour and half of intense scrubbing. I would not be so vain as to call his attention to my project, as everything he does takes far more skill than any of my menial tasks. So, I scrubbed extra hard to get him to notice my efforts and sparkling hull. I finished rinsing the section I had just worked on, and tossed the hose to the ground with a flick of confidence.
Big mistake. The nice round head of the evil hose struck the ground, and twisted slightly with the impact of the solid dirt. In an explosion of spraying water and flailing hose, the valve completely opened and with the violence of a raging snake, sprang to life. I had no idea what hit me from behind, all I knew is that I was being attacked by an unknown entity. I screamed and leapt to the side as water doused me, but when I turned, there was nothing there. Again, I was wacked from behind and water continued to drench me. I squealed in horror and flung myself around again to come face to face with my monster. The hose from hell continued to writhe and I spun and jumped, trying to match its furious motion. Finally, after spinning, jumping and grabbing several times, my hands clutched its evil throat, and with both hands, I wrestled it into submission and squelched its flow.
Squatting, breathless, soaked and looking quite ridiculous as I throttled my demon, I slowly picked up my head. I cringed as I looked over in Dan’s direction. Dan was standing by the open trunk of the car, water dripping off his face and body, everything in the trunk clearly wet from the recent spray. I froze, waiting for the eruption of verbal lashings for soaking my husband and all his tools. I knew I deserved it and hung my head, feeling stupid, ashamed, and less than capable of even the easiest task.
Ever so slowly, Dan’s frown turned into a grin. Then, to my great relief, he erupted in laughter. He remained doubled over for a few seconds, obviously amused with my evil hose encounter. I stood up and composed myself, relieved that he had found humor even after being doused because of my stupidity. And that, is why I love this man so much. Not only is he strong, capable and reliable, but he finds humor even when I have my moments of ineptness, which are quite often. I make a lot of mistakes and will make many more in the future. But knowing I have a partner that can smile though it all, well, that is priceless.
So when you come and sail with us on our beautiful Dove, she will be shiny, clean, and in beautiful condition, but just like having a kid, we have labored and toiled to make her so beautiful and well behaved. And like a child, she is a labor of love and our pride and joy.