What happens when a land-lover goes boating

I admit that I am an unapologetic land lover.  My husband on the other hand lives and dies for boating.  So I go, unless I can find someone else who will take my place. 

So after the first few years or our marriage, I encouraged him to live his boating dream and buy a pleasure boat.  Heck I even went to the coast guard class with him that had me longing for my boring college history professor’s lectures.  Seriously, my requisite handbook is full of doodles of dozing women and eager men.  Still, I passed with flying colors because if nothing else I’m a good at cramming information in a locker in my head that I will never again open or need.

So when we go out on the marina that is near our home husband dear wades into greenish water that could contain all sorts of pathogens to launch the boat.  I wait on the shore until it is ready and I can jump off the dock and into the boat unscathed.  The smell of the brackish water is not exactly gag inducing but not particularly pleasant either.  Of course there are always a few bloated fish floating along the perimeter of the boat. 

I can swim but I won't be in the olympics any time soon.  And my husband swears that this boat is unsinkable.  Hmmm-- isn't that what they said about the Titanic?

For some reason it’s always windy out on the water, and I’m not a fan of hats.  Even if I was they would most likely end up in the water.  My hair is rather long and fine and the knots are impossible to get out without half a head of hair coming out with it. So I get a hat that has a string that tightens around the neck.  It kind of resembles a little kid’s cowboy hat. I tuck all my hair in the hat and tighten the string.  Don’t think I will make my debut in a fashion magazine, but it beats going bald from yanking out knots.

And then we head off, slow at first, until we pass the go ahead buoy where you are allowed to hit the gas.  I vaguely remember from my coast guard class that when you encounter a wave you have to angle the boat to cross it. My husband, however, likes to take the bull by the horns and hit-em full force.  Now being a woman, I have women parts.  And when one hits a wave head on like this it forces those two parts to bounce uncontrollably and painfully!  If you are not holding on to them it can black both your eyes!  And did you get the part that it hurts like the dickens?  So he throttles back at my insistence.

We move on at a slower pace and then decide to anchor awhile while we fish.  Our boat seats at least 6, but it doesn’t have a head.  What you may ask is a head?  It’s what seafarers call a bathroom.  And so we have another dilemma that men don’t have. We have no choice but to head back to the marina so I can use a porta potty.  I don’t use porta potties unless it is a strict emergency.  It's an emergency.  So after the pit stop we return to the water. This time I restrict my liquid intake and my thirst is kicking in since it is pretty hot, but we are pretty far from the shore now so I'm not taking any chances.  There is an irony about floating on water (even slimy green water) when you are just about dying of thirst.

The sun beats down on us even with the top up as it reflects off the water.  Did I mention that I sunburn at even the slightest exposure? 

We anchor and fish a little.  We catch a few, mostly we throw them back because the only thing less fun than being stuck on a boat is cleaning fish. After a hour or so we head for home. Land ho! As we dock my husband is smiling from ear to ear, happy and sun kissed.  Me-- I’m surveying my reddened face and legs thinking that I will be applying Aloe Vera for the next few days as I sprint to the porta potty.

And so another day on the water comes to an end.  I can only hope that someone will take my place the next time.  I can only hope. 

For a land-loving boating diversion why not hop on over to my crafting blog and follow the tutorial to make a wiggle sailboat magnet from a recycled soda can. (which I didn't drink on the boat) 

Wiggle sailboat tutorial

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