The Mast-Head: Dreaming of Boats

A friend from an inland state, a very inland state, is due to leave for the Gulf of Mexico in the next couple of weeks for a course in boat handling, sailing, and navigation. He is taking a leave of absence from his job working for the State of New Mexico in anticipation of buying a boat and seeing the world.

On the one hand, as a boat owner myself, I think he is plumb out of his mind. I have spent far more time since the middle of August monkeying around with a leaking fuel tank and related issues on my boat than actually using it. But, on the other side of the tiller, as a fellow desk-jockey, I can see the sweet temptation of setting sail for points unknown.

My fuel problem began on an ordinary August afternoon as I was rounding the Lion Head Rock buoy and suddenly smelled the unmistakable odor of gasoline rising from the deck. Opening a port toward the stern, I reached inside and, sure enough, my hand came up covered with a vile mixture of fuel and bilge water.

Since my outboard is on a stanchion that holds it a good distance from the hull and because I could turn off all the other electrical systems, I felt there was little chance of an explosion. Nonetheless, it was with a nervous grip that I steered back to the slip in Three Mile Harbor.

A couple of weeks later, I had the old tank taken out, ordered a new one, and had the bilge cleaned. Now, more than a month after the replacement was installed, I am still messing around with the bilge pumps, fuel gauges, and other misbegotten boat problems between driving the kids to sports practices, friends’ houses, and trying to do a few other things.

My friend, a rock-climber and skier in his off hours, has no offspring to ferry around, and he  might well find the time to live his dream. As for me, I’d just like to get out to the east side of Gardiner’s Island one last time before I put the boat up on blocks for the winter.