So Chuck, my brother-in-law Peter, and I picked Rosie up and carried her to the dock. We dropped her in. She began to take on water, somewhat quickly. Chuck's response ... "Tie her up and lets tow her across". Peter was pretty suspect that the boat would make the trip. I was silently suspect as well, but this was the only way to get her back to the mainland. So we tied her up and started to tow her across. Regrettably I have no photographic evidence of the trip that ensued, but it was pure comedy from beginning to end.
As we pulled out from the dock, she was riding well. We could see into the hull, and things seemed to be ok. The trip to the mainland is about 20 minutes on a good day ... with nothing in tow. This trip would be much longer. As we slowly drove across the River and headed for the very deep and very busy main channel, Rosie's bow began to rise slowly. At some point her bow had risen so high that we could no longer see into the hull to assess the amount of water she was taking on. We hoped that the drag created by being towed would pull the water out of the hull. This hope was quickly replaced with the hope that Rosie would not sink and drag us down with her. We discussed scuttling her in the main channel. The ever-practical Chuck did not approve of this simply because we were not 100% sure that it would sink all the way, creating a dangerous situation for other boaters. So we were committed ... 100%. It was do-or-die and as the bow continued to rise due to the constant water coming into the hull, it was almost die. As we pulled into the marina, we had to slow the boat down to a no-wake speed. This allowed me to pull Rosebud in closer by the tow rope to get a better look at the situation. As I pulled the water-logged boat closer to us, somehow I lost my balance. I was falling backward into the River (which was roughly 50 degrees). I dropped the tow rope, my back was all the way in the water, my head going next, and I was holding onto the side of the boat with my calves and knees ... all of this taking place in front of a group of fishermen watching with amused curiosity. As I dangled from the boat, the prop flashed through my head, and I looked at Pete with desperation. He dropped the tow rope, shouted at Chuck to stop the boat and then grabbed my arm and pulled me in. He saved my life (a little dramatic I know, but c'mon, this is a story about a boat being refinished, I need to keep your attention somehow). So looking like a drowned rat, and feeling pretty embarrassed, Chuck made me feel better by shouting to the fishermen who watched it all transpire … "Bet you didn't expect to see that today!"
As we pulled up to the dock, we were able to see that about 50% of the boat was full of water. We dragged her to the rocks and began to pull her out … one inch at a time. Each inch we pulled out caused the water to drain out of the back. The three of us were feeling very manly and strong pulling this boat out, full of water. That was until we heard from across the marina, "Hey you guys need help with that? I have three strapping young men here that could pull it out in no time". Feeling a little less manly, we declined the assistance and pulled her ashore.
That weekend Sarah and I had come up to the River towing a 5x8 UHaul trailer. When we were on the island Chuck had paced off the boat and declared rather certainly that the boat was 9 feet long. I figured we could somehow jam the 9 feet into the 8 foot trailer if we just lifted the bow up. So we drive the trailer around and open her up. As we slide the boat in we realize that Chuck's legs must need to be recalibrated. At a minimum this boat was 10 feet. There was no "jamming" that could get his boat to fit into this trailer. So we tied her down the best we could and let the door close as tight as it could and hoped for the best. The trip home involved a couple of stops to check on her ropes and make sure the door was not wide open. All-in-all the trip was the easiest part of the entire escapade … Rosie made it home to Ballston Spa safely. As did the wolf spiders she was graciously carrying with her. I hate wolf spiders.
See Libby ... they do have fangs.
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