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| Lough Derg on the River Shannon 2020 |
When I was small, the eldest of four, we only ever knew four inches of bath water. If we lay on our backs to let our hair fan out, our lovely Mam would lose her life. Lying on our bellies pretending to snorkel in the depths below, treated the neighbours to her anxious shrieks. "Oh Jesus, you'll drown - will ya sit up out of it!"
It all got too much for her. Our horizontal water vessel was unceremoniously wrenched out, and replaced by its vertical cousin, the shower. Mam was a new woman.
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At school, my first swimming lesson loomed large. I conjured up images of the biggest bath ever. I was so sure I'd love it. Ah, the naivety. Cold as a fish, freckled and unfriendly, the instructor flip-flopped across the wet tiles. One by one she hefted my classmates by hand and by hoof into the air.
Ah, here. All I wanted to do was slither in slowly at my own pace - not be hurled in by a shot putter.
So, I side-stepped my way to the back of the shivering line of seven year olds. When she finally got to me, I resisted, with all of my being. I was terrified. Her huge hand circled my tiny wrist. I leaned away from her, shaking my head, pleading with my eyes.
Made no odds, because I was off through the air, and then, lost in the distorted echo of panic. My mother was right - "Oh Jesus, I'll drown", I thought. I lost all sense of orientation - I stayed under so long, flailing and suffocating, that the old shark had to fish me out with her hook.
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A few years later, imagine my delight when my new boss announced a weekend of water-based activities at Delphi Resort. We were going to engage in team-building by running across each other's canoe, and trying not to fall in. I couldn't think of anything worse! Again, I flailed and suffocated, but this time in front of my new work colleagues. I was so overwhelmed by it all, I started to sob. Not my finest hour.
No, dear Reader, water never played a positive role in my younger days.
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So, it came as no small surprise to me (nor to my lovely Mam), that for the past 3 to 4 years my most contented days have been spent on, or near a large body of water. My husband, two sons, and I have now fully embraced the beauty of boating. And we're not alone! Many others have succumbed to this obsession, long before us, and we've plenty yet to learn. But no matter how long you've owned a boat, when the boating bug bites, it goes deep.
It's a craving, a longing, an escape from the mundane. Something to look forward to, to plan for at the end of a week. Thursday work meetings are tempered with thoughts that "this time tomorrow we'll be down on the boat." The spare room at home is set up as a prep space. Every time we think of something to pack, into the box it goes, so that Friday afternoon we're out the door and on the road as quick as we can. With the click of the car seat-belt, my heart rate comes down, my breathing deepens, and all the stressful work-related knots begin to dissolve.
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But why? What is it about boating that brings such utter contentment and sense of well-being? For me, it's so many things - the great conversations, the sense of community, the wonderful sunsets, the closeness to nature, and the craic in the pub. The joy of waking up to the gentle sound of water lapping near your head, the appreciation of time slowing down. The pleasure in knowing that if you wanted to, you could just sit there, looking out.
It's the marvel of making a whole new set of friends, no matter your age. People you become bound to over time by the sheer fact that you share a similar interest. You get to soak up a good story about mishaps and hard lessons learned. Your mug of tea turns into a blissful experience, just because you're drinking it up on deck, as a swan silently passes your toes, accepting you into their domain.
When we've transferred our supplies from the car to the boat, our two boys vanish. Funny how a tight-fitting life-jacket allows them more freedom than they've ever known before. Once the life-jackets go on, my worry-prone mother mode switches off. And they come back when they're hungry.
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| The Derg Rally 2019 |
Now, don't get me wrong - it's not all lily pads and fluffy clouds. There are rules to adhere to and important knowledge to apply. Water safety is everything. Mistakes can be costly, lethal even, and weather is king. You develop a personal responsibility for anyone's child you might see running about the place without a life-jacket, and eyeball them from a distance until you see it clipped back on.
You worry about your propellers in shallow water, and watch your instruments for telltale signs of bother. You listen and learn all the time from others around you. And every time you moor the boat is different - every single time. There are so many variables - the wind, the current, the choice to go bow or stern in.
Learning the ropes, or knot!
And, dear Reader, there's no truer test of a marriage than boating. If there are any couples that tell you they never fight over ropes, or fender positions, or navigation, they're lying to you. I think the disagreements over such things are just dampened down between couples because we're all acutely aware that sound travels so well over water!
As First Mate, there have been times when I've been tempted to wrap a rope around my Captain's neck rather than around the middle cleat. These feelings were usually caused by the prompt undoing of my rope-work, and the immediate re-doing in what looked to me like the exact same technique. The flurry of four-lettered words were kept behind my teeth, but the sheer rage took a while to abate.
There were times where I said, something along the lines of "tie your own f-en ropes then, if I don't do them the way you want them."
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Then one day, I saw a woman lean over the rails as their boat approached the harbour we were in that day. She confidently held the rope spread evenly between her two hands. She weighted it, and waited for the exact right moment to toss the rope into the air. It left her grasp and went just where she aimed, and with a deft pull she had secured her stern - without setting foot off her boat. I was in awe of her and her skill, and then it struck me, that should be me! Am I doing the ropes the wrong way?
I'm in this for the long haul - the marriage and the boating! So, I decided to swallow the pride, pick up the damn book and watch a few YouTube videos. Dear Captain had inhaled them, and had tried to pass on the knowledge to me.
But, it's so much easier to take instruction from someone that isn't a close family member. We all know this, right? Anyone have clear memories of swearing never again after each and every driving lesson with their Dad? I do.
So, I'm learning the ropes, gradually. Here are a few handy ones to know, or so I've been told.
1. A bowline
A bowline forms a secure loop at the end of a line. Once there's a lot of tension on it, it won't undo. You can use it for just about anything. All you need to do it remember a story about a rabbit, a hole, and a tree.
Both pictures and tips taken from the book 'Stress-free motor boating' by Duncan Wells.
When throwing a line to that friendly someone on the jetty, you want to make sure it gets there first time. The trick is to throw it beyond the kind citizen that came to help you, because then you know it's guaranteed to make the distance, and not go into the drink.
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Now, let's not get carried away by positioning ourselves as experts - not yet. But let's promise to celebrate the journey - to learn something at every harbour, and to keep invigorated by the fact that it's never too late to change tack.
How can I say that with any authority? Well, here's a picture of our two young men with my lovely Mam - yes, the one that was terrified of four inches of bath water. My darling Dad would have loved it too, but that's for another day, dear Reader.
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| Leaving Terryglass Harbour July 2019 |
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