by Mark Schram
There is nothing more humbling than a not so perfect boat launch at the ramp. The pressure builds as the line grows behind you, and all eyes ascend upon you like a lead actor in a Broadway play. It’s your turn, and what are you going to do?
I remember my first launch of my first boat. The family went to the local state park where we expected a small amount of traffic. Wow, were we wrong! I had been briefed at the dealer about proper launching procedure, but did I remember? Backing the boat down to the two stall pier, which had a very tight turning radius, I struggled to make the trailer do what I wanted it to do. I guess I should have taken the advice of the boat dealer to practice in an empty parking lot. After about ten attempts, I finally had the boat in the water, just a mere 5 feet from the pier.
As I looked around, a small amused mob was gaining satisfaction from my amateur status. My wife and I were giving each other a dirty look as if the other knew what they were doing. Two other boats had launched from the other side of the pier. Finally, time to release the boat to the water…..I think. Since the ramp had a strong angle to it, I had each of my two sons holding the ropes on the pier, with my wife helping them. I removed the safety chain and readied the crew for what was coming next—the release of the boat.
I unlatched the catch of the winch, only to have it spin out of control as the boat rolled off the rollers and into the water. I nearly castrated myself. At this point, my wife was rooting for this development.
The boat now connected by the winch strap, was hung up on the last rung of the rollers. Just one course of action here. I had to wade into the ice cold water to unhook the strap. It was just too far to jump from the pier and into the boat. Did I mention other boats had launched next to me? I had taken particular notice to the two nice gentlemen who had come from the next door campground (with their beers and chairs) to offer me encouragement.
I finally pulled the vehicle from the dock to a smattering of mock applause. That was over! I gladly hustled back to the dock to take a ride in the new boat. I sat proudly in the captain’s chair, and the gleam of excitement in my son’s eyes made the launch procedure all worth it. Everyone ready, I asked?
I primed the ball of the motor, as instructed at the marina. I adjusted the start level as instructed. I turned the key…..and….to my displeasure, nothing. Just a grinding of my brand new motor, without it turning over. I stopped and reviewed my mental notes to see if I had forgotten something. Nothing came to mind. Things were much simpler in my 14 foot row boat that I had as a kid.
With no other options left, I continued to torque on the key in hopes of the motor starting. My son’s excitement turned to disappointment as their first boat ride was about to be cancelled. I continued to examine the motor for defects, and noticed the nice gas and oil slick forming behind the boat. Boy was the dealer in for a long day when I got back home. I finally gave up and decided to start to head back to the vehicle to re-trailer the boat.
As I walked by the two beer guzzling, opportunistic campers, one of them stopped me. Oh no, here it comes, I thought. He is going to make my bad day worse. He looked at me and asked if the kill switch was engaged. “Kill switch, what the hell is that?” I replied. Several minutes later I was finally on the water.
How many times have I thought about that first launch? The excitement of the new boat, the disappointment of it not working, and the gratitude of the kind individual who helped me out. It is now many years later, and I am now the guy standing in line waiting for “that guy” who is launching for the first time. Trust me, when possible, I try to be as kind to them as that gentleman was to me during my first launch.
