Our boat is out of the water, stored on the hard.  We put it up when we leave for a month or more.  Pull the transom plug and let ‘er rain and drain.  Usually that works just fine.  But I have two boats (and Sal has one more plus a small flotilla of kayaks and dinghys).  One of the boats is kinda permanently stored up on the beach in the manner that is so common to coastal folks.  After a few years the bushes grow up around it and then, after a few more years, there are more and bigger trees and the boat just disappears.   But last month, my permanently-on-the-hard boat almost disappeared ahead of it’s time.  The tides were so high and the storm surge so strong the waves came up higher on the beach than ever before and lifted the boat off it’s cradle.  Had it not been tied, it would have floated off. As it was, my neighbour saw it all askew a few days later and made the effort to re-position it.  Just part of being neighbourly for him.  It is likely fine.

But this global warming thing almost bit me in the boat.

When we get back, something will be amiss.  Always is.  A pilot light won’t start in the stove.  The fridge will stay warm.  Water pump makes noise.  Whatever.  Or, maybe we just forgot something we really needed.  Going home is such a wonderful feeling but Murphy usually adds a little reality to the moment.  Getting re-established and comfortable again usually takes at least all of one day futzing and putzing, fiddling and jury-rigging, making amends with Murphy.   It is rarely ever serious (altho losing the boat could have been…?) but there is always something.

I am kinda looking forward to it.

Kinda.

I like resolving little hiccups, but I am not keen on the catastrophic.  If all the panels fell down, I would be upset. If the water line broke, no biggie.  I can be a handyman and have it going in no time and still get kudos for being manly.  So, arriving is a gamble.  “I wonder how it will go this time…..?”

One thing is pretty dependable – my neighbour.  I call a week before we arrive and ask if it is possible for him to launch the boat and leave it at the other island for my arriving convenience. He always says ‘yes’.  Never a problem.  What isn’t said out loud is the obvious: the boat weighs a ton (with the engine), it is ‘on the hard’ which makes it weigh all that much heavier and it is awkward as hell to re-launch.  My neighbour always makes sure the engine is in running condition, too.  Of course, I leave it ready to go but I know how Murphy works. Nothing starts the first time. There is futzing and putzing and jury-rigging involved there, too.   ‘Course, it was never a mentioned problem for him and all is good and we are supported and befriended as if it was the most normal thing in the world.

And the nice part about it is that it is mostly like that.  We are all mostly like that to each other up there.  It is very, very good.  I miss the place and I miss my neighbours.  I am ready to go home.

And it will be very, very good to get back again for all that.