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| Mullet Key Bunce's Pass Tampa Bay |
In the mid-80s North Beach at Ft Desoto Park featured large Australian pines with their glorious abundant shade, a small creek wound between them full of fish and birds to feed on them. The beach of white sand ran in splendid isolation for miles. Our Nebraska family had made their first journey to the Sunshine state so naturally we had to show off a bit. We hitched the Laser to the station wagon and were off. An odd choice of sailboat for a family of five, but it was all we had those days. The kids loved it and it was fun for everyone to sail.
The main attraction at North Beach was a long, wide sand bar
that was larger and further offshore than today’s version. I don’t recall how many kids piled on the
Laser that day for the short sail back to Mullet Key. I remembered thinking there was little to
worry about in these protected waters. A
strong gust hit the sail, and the Laser proved what a water rocket she is. I grabbed for the dagger board - too late, as
the dagger board found sand, my passengers and self were airborne. The water shallow and warm, and the sand
soft, the kids wanted to fly again; their still shaking Captain, happy everyone
was in unbroken condition, declined.
Fortunately, son Jim, volunteered to help me sail back to the boat ramp.
The afternoon grew late, the sun low- we pushed off, bound
for Bunce’s Pass boat ramp. Progress was
slower than anticipated. Luckily, we had a good while before the sun and horizon
were scheduled to meet. Bubbling water under
the stern gave evidence that we were making way, albeit slowly. Jim noticed a picnic table ashore was making
better progress towards the boat ramps than we were. A discussion ensued. The verdict was in. We were making negative speed over
ground. The tide was pushing us towards the
Gulf of Mexico, the spectacular sun set notwithstanding, a maritime disaster
was unfolding.
Some sailing lessons require
pain.
We did not realize how perilously unprepared we were. Of
course we were wearing our life jackets and had a throw cushion, but no drinking
water, marine radio, or alternate means of propulsion found their way aboard. As we
drifted with the tide we could see our family, in the fading light, standing at
the end of one of the docks far away.
Communication was reduced to enthusiastic cushion waving. The Laser’s
dagger board is too cumbersome to use as an alternate means of propulsion so I
fish-tailed the partially raised rudder hoping to propel the boat to shore or
at least run it aground, a skill I had demonstrated earlier. We didn’t know about “walking a Laser”- had
we known, we may have been able to gain the shoals unassisted and eventually
found the boat trailer.
The sun was setting,
the tide was running, we were in trouble
We noticed a small fishing boat – you know the kind –
aluminum- not a john boat- leaving another dock at high speed. It turned towards us. Hurray! He was either coming to our rescue or in a
hurry to go fishing, either way he would have to pass by.
If you have been around boats awhile, you could determine that
something was not right about our rescuer.
He was standing, amid ship, legs spread. His right hand occupied by a mixed drink in a
real glass, the left held a coil of what I hoped was a tow line. The helm unattended, the boat raced towards us
at full speed growing a large beard. Its Captain steered the boat, between
drinks, by shifting his weight. An impressive display of seamanship or alcohol
powered foolishness matters not if you’re the one being rescued.
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| Bunce's Pass Rescue- Illustrations by M.M.Maloy |
Ya’II need a tow?
He circled as he threw the tow line, which we tied, with
some haste, to the base of the mast. Remembering
the day’s earlier lesson at the Shallow Water Flying Sailboat School, and sensing
this was a one speed Captain, I removed the dagger board and laid it near the
large hole in the boat it formerly occupied. Our rescuer slowly accelerated
until the line was taught then opened full throttle. Taking
his unusual helm position, he could not hear my comments concerning the speed
his craft had attained nor the short time it took to achieve it. All purebred
racing sailboats, including the Laser, offer tons of racing strategy options,
yet none discuss the competitive advantage of a boom-high fountain erupting
from the dagger board well like a wet volcano.
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| Wet Volcano Towing Co. Illustrations by MMMaloy |
The Promise
After the long tow (we were nearly in the Gulf when rescued)
we arrived, drenched, humbled, and saved from a likely disastrous encounter with
the Gulf of Mexico. Our rescuer circled between the Laser and the docks slowing
slightly when coming along side to accept his tow line. He hollered “I only ask
you to watch for somebody in trouble and rescue them”. The translation: “If you see someone dumb as yourself drifting
towards oblivion - help them “. He
reached down into his liquor locker, mixed another drink, and then, standing
amid ships, roared off towards St Petersburg. It was raining salt water a few weeks
later when I fulfilled my promise.
Somewhere in the long
history of sailboat racing
Shouldn’t there be a trophy for losing a race to a picnic
table while sailing a Laser?
SMALL BOATS ROCK!
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| Tempered Glass Cutting Board/Trivet Use your image/photo if you like |
