Life Without a Boat

I’ve been getting more exercise lately. I have been attending to chores around the house that I just didn’t seem to have time for most of the summer. Pam and I have spent a bit more quality time together. I finished reading a book. These seemingly positive changes in my life’s routines, unfortunately, have been foisted upon me by a catastrophic event. My boat, The Maggie Leigh, is in the shop for repairs. Yes, I am boatless.  Yet, ironically, I am at sea. 

It all came upon me without warning on a beautiful late summer day. Long time fishing buddy Ed had driven up for a day of fishing. Late summer angling in Door County offers many options. We had chosen to pursue smallmouth bass in the northern reaches of the county. Putting in at Ellison Bay, we had motored up to Hedgehog Harbor, about five miles, without incident.  We soon found some active smallies off a rocky shoreline near Gills Rock. The fish were small but feisty and we did battle with 20 or so bronze-backs. The day was starting off well. We decided to change locations, looking to find some larger fish. The 115 horsepower Mercury motor on the back of my 18-foot Lund Fisherman started as smoothly as it always has and soon we were gliding across Garrett Bay toward Death’s Door Bluff. We spotted a group of boats clustered off the bluff. These seemed like serious bass anglers, including some local guides, so we figured they had located a school of active smallmouth. Eager to join the party, Ed and I would go there as soon as some of the boats cleared out.  We would try a few other spots first. I steered the Maggie Leigh to a point along the shore where I had success just the week before. Approaching an underwater ledge, I powered down the motor. Then it happened! The black mass of machinery hanging off the transom started to shudder and shake and then abruptly died. My repeated attempts to restart the motor came to naught. Each time the motor would tantalizingly come to life, only to spit and sputter to a halt. In fear of causing permanent damage to this complex and very expensive piece of equipment, I ceased my attempts to restart it. I would leave this to a professional. We were still about four miles from the boat launch, but I had a very reliable 9.9 horsepower “kicker” motor as back-up. It would be a slow ride back, but we had no worries about getting home. The south wind was picking up, so Ed and I decided to cut our losses and head back to Ellison Bay. Then the inexplicable occured. The kicker motor wouldn’t start. With some cajoling, I got the motor to run, but it ran rough, and I could not get it to full power. We did mange to make our way back to the boat launch, riding into the building waves at a top speed of about 4MPH. The trip took nearly an hour. 

After licking my wounds from two failing motors and apologizing to Ed for the aborted fishing trip, I soon was dropping off the Maggie Leigh at a local marine repair shop. Now trying to get a boat motor repaired in Door County can be problematical at any time, but getting it done in the middle of a busy summer season is daunting to say the least. We have some very competent and hardworking marine mechanics in the county, but we don’t have enough of them, and there are a lot of boats. Every boat owner knows that, sooner or later, your boat will be broke. Boats are constantly being bounced, vibrated and jostled amidst unforgiving water and weather. It is never a question of when your boat will need repairs, but when and how much will it cost. Most importantly, how long will it take? After describing the symptoms of my ailing motors to the marina guy, he frowned and bluntly stated, “I gotta be honest with you, it could be three weeks.” THREE WEEKS???? Three weeks without a boat. In the middle of the some of the best fishing of the year. My heart sank, my head swooned. Knowing I had no other viable option (I could go buy a new boat, I guess), I reluctantly unhitched the trailer from my F-150 and drove from the marina, the Maggie Leigh disappearing in the rear-view mirror. 

Now what? Much of my summer is spent in a boat, hauling a boat, preparing a boat for the next fishing trip, restoring a boat from the last trip, or planning with friends to go in a boat. Now I did not have a boat. To the uninitiated or the insensitive, this may seem like a minor inconvenience. Those who know me well, like my wife Pam, knew this was a major problem. She noticed the change in my behavior immediately. I was screaming obscenities at the computer (more than usual). I was staring listlessly out the window mumbling  “So, now what?” It was sad. However, what most troubled my wife was that I was spending way too much time around the house. After nearly fifty years of marriage, we have each come to prize our “alone time”. In the early years of our relationship, Pam might bemoan, “Are you going fishing again?” In the last decade or so, especially since retirement, she is more apt to plead “When are you going fishing?” My lack of a boat was straining this tenuous balance my wife and I have forged that has maintained a stable relationship. So far. 

Fortunately, I have friends. Fishing friends that understood my predicament and immediately came to my aid. Paul took me into his 21-foot Lund Baron for an outing on the big lake for salmonids. We got no hits, but I was in a boat for four hours. Bliss. Then Terry offered his sleek black fiberglass Tuffy for a muskie trip. We saw five muskies which, as any muskie aficionado knows, passes as a successful muskie junket. Paul hauled out his 16-foot MirroCraft and took me out on a local lake where we boated dozens of fish including a nice smallie. Soon thereafter, Paul and I were targeting pike in Moonlight Bay. I was getting my boat and fishing fixes. All this time, I was inquiring at the marina shop, “Any news on my Lund?” In response I got various replies (aka excuses): “We’ll try to work it in.”, “The parts been ordered.”, “Maybe tomorrow.”, and the most pathetic, “The mechanic’s wife just had a baby.” (Congratulations, by the way.)  Still no boat. I was getting frantic.

In one more attempt at an intervention, Terry trailered his Tuffy all the way from the Fox Valley to assuage my anguish. We spent a wonderful afternoon plying the lakeside bays for northern pike. We boated several fish over thirty inches including a 42-inch slobosaurus. It was a wonderful day, but still only a substitute for being in The Maggie Leigh. Then, just when I was getting to the end of my tether, I got the word. The boat was fixed, I could pick it up! I ran to the truck, drove to Sister Bay and hooked up the trailer. I immediately made for the Baileys Harbor Marina and eased the Maggie Leigh into the water. I powered up both motors. They ran perfectly. The rip in the fabric of the universe had been repaired. I could feel a sense of calm wash over me. The sky seemed a bit brighter. 

I called Ed with the good news. We made arrangements for a fishing trip and within days, Ed and I were back on the waters of northern Door County. We spent four hours trolling Death’s Door under a beautiful blue sky, past towering limestone cliffs and cedar bedecked rocky shores. We ended the day casting for the same smallmouth bass we were targeting three weeks prior when the ordeal began. It was closure. 

Sure, I will getting a little less exercise. Some of those chores are going to have to wait until winter as will that novel. However, my life seems back in balance and Pam is much happier to spend time with me, albeit less of it.  

So Long, and Thanks for All the Fish, Bruce

Questions or comments to bsmith733@gmail.com