As Promised: Dan's Adventure Monday Nov 7

Today, against any better judgement and certainly against the Mate's wishes, I set off in the dinghy, 4.5 miles downwind, with my trusty Torqeedo.

It was gusty and choppy in places, calm and quiet in others, depending on sporadic stands of Longleaf Yellow Pine.  The current was strong against me as I glued downwind.

My goal was R E Mayo's dock, a seafood company with about 5 or 6 hundred feet of dock frontage on this canal.  There I hoped to procure some fresh off the boat shrimp and maybe some frozen fish for our cooler bag.

About a mile into my trip I was observing a couple semi-open fishing boats ahead of me. One had a raised helm platform and was doing some high speed maneuvers, which to me looked like they were harassing the other boat, which I figured to be a fisherman.

I switched to the other side of the channel, as I didn't want to get tangled up with these guys, or worse, witness something dark.

Turns out the wild high speed circling was their way of setting a net, but it still looked like they were fouling the other boat who also seemed to have a net set.

I made it past without incident, keeping my head down.

Eventually I made my destination and went ashore for some fish the easy way, credit card!

Mayo's is quite the place, fresh shrimp, other fish frozen, tee-shirts, hoodies, marine paint, diesel fuel, galvanized bolts, oil, filters, sheeves, candy, soda, lots of rubber boots and gloves, you name it...

A nice gent scooped me 2 pounds of shrimp, (two shrimp boats with 75 ft high sissy sticks or stabilizers jabbing high into the sky were tied up) and some mahi mahi.  

As I walked out of the shop I saw that one of the high speed circlers was unloading his catch, (the fishermen we're unharmed) so I went back inside to ask what the fish were.  The nice lady that had processed my credit card told me the fish were Mullet and that they were full of roe, which she confided was thought by some to be an aphrodisiac. She did not wink at me when she said that.

So I tried to find out if they also used the fish other than just for the roe, and she went into this long involved explanation that included grilling, salting, and even some concoction which involved a blender, I kid you not!

I went back to my dinghy to start the slog back to the Willie Dawes against a pretty fair headwind. I was hugging the right hand side of the channel, following a fishing skiff, trying to stay in the lee, but apparently I got a mite too close as I struck something with my outboard motor. Oh no, broken sheer pin, no drive.

Well, there was no rowing the remaining 3.5 miles, so I turned around, under oar power now, and headed back downwind. I know Mayo's probably would have something I could make a fix with, but here in my path was a tiny USCG lifeboat station, so I figured I'd give them a try.  

USCG Hobucken (this photo was taken several days later)

I tied up at their neat concrete cove and headed up to the shop, hat in hand.

A chief was coming out as I walked up and asked if he could help me. Of course I said yes, this old Coastie is in a bit of a bind.  He was confused because he couldn't see my small boat, being shorter than their seawall, but he took me inside and got a couple young guys to help me. They came down to the shore, wide eyed as I explained that I had hit something and blown a sheer pin.  I unclamped the motor and they carried it to their shop.   

With my supervision, they got the propeller off and we're very curious as to the design of this little electric eggbeater.  I'm not sure they'd ever seen a sheer pin before.  But they were willing and we scoured the shop for a proper sized replacement, nail, cotter pin, farm hitch pin, whatever.

My USCG mechanic buddies

We finally settled on a piece of a hitch pin, a little small (thin), but I promised to go easy on it, got it all gently back together, and they lugged the jury rigged machine back to the waterfront, where I mounted it on my wee boat, assembled battery and control handle , bid my lifesavers thanks and goodbye, and set off. At about 100 feet I turned and gave a final wave, as my helpers watched me go, I'm sure thinking to themselves, "What the hell was that all about?"

After pounding into a 1 to two foot chop the rest of the way back, with the motor just a humming along, I arrived safely back at the Willie Dawes just after noon no worse for wear other than a wet bum from taking a little spray over my bow. The wind had not let up.

Best of all, Kathy had a hot cup of beef and barley soup all ready for me. Boy did that taste good after my big morning's adventure!