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Last summer, my wife and I, being new to sailing, were interested in attending the "Governorâs Cup", a gala affair held every year at the prestigious Yacht Club. We had just purchased our C22, and thought it would be fun to sail from our slip, a few miles from the Yacht Club, down the Lafayette River, to the festivities. We were brand new to sailing, and concerned about our abilities, so we called our friend Kevin, who has spent more time on the water than we had. He would be out fishing that day, and we could raise him on the VHF if needed. So we made our plans, and the big day finally arrived. We would attend the Governorâs Cup as "Luvy and Thurston", as we thought that might be fun. We cast off about 9:30 that morning, motored out of the slip, and hoisted sails for a broad reach down the river. We were approaching a bridge, and the admiral was concerned that our mast might be too tall. I reassured her, that I had checked the charts, and there was at least several feet of clearance. There was a pretty good breeze across the river, so we were making good time as we approached the bridge. Well, to hasten the story, the bridge was too short. Bam! The top of the mast hit the bridge, and the boat swung to one side just enough for the mast to pass under the first beam. We were stuck. Couldn't motor out. So I got on the VHF, and called Kevin. We sat patiently bobbing up and down for about 45 minutes, until Kevin showed up. Kevin suggested that we try to heel the boat over, so the mast could clear the bridge. We agreed. Since I was the heaviest, he and the admiral would hoist me up the mast to try to heel the boat. We fashioned a harness seat from a hatch board and some dock line, and tied it to the halyard. Kevin and the admiral heaved the line, and up the mast I went! I'm not quite sure how, but when I was almost to the top, Kevin lost hold of the halyard, and I began sliding back down the mast. My wife was still holding on to her end, so she was being hoisted up the mast as I slid down! (I am about 70 lbs. heavier than she is.) My makeshift seat caught on one of the spreaders, and one side came undone leaving me clinging to the mast! My wife, having been lifted to the spreaders, was now holding a limp halyard, so she fell back to the deck! Of course, when she hit the deck, she finally let go of the halyard, which dropped the hatch board back onto my head. Our good buddy Kevin was laughing hysterically. We gave up on that tactic and devised a new plan. He would tie off a tow line, and pull us out from under the bridge with his old wooden fishing boat. We hesitantly agreed. We got some line, secured it to the bow of my boat, and tied the other end to his transom. He throttled his engine, and as the line began to creek under the strain, it looked for a moment as though it was going to work. Finally, he gunned it, and to our astonishment, his transom was ripped clean off the back of his boat! Fortunately, he had an inboard drive, and by keeping a full throttle, he was able to skim along the river at high speed to keep his boat from flooding! (We found out later that he eventually ran out of gas up the river, where his boat sank.) A short while later, the tide had fallen enough that our boat just floated out from under the bridge, and we proceeded to the Governorâs cup. As we approached the docks of the prestigious Yacht Club, we could hear the brass band playing. The gentleman in their blue blazers, and ladies in the summer dresses were looking very sharp indeed. We elected to take a slip right up in front of the band as they played. All the excitement and bobbing in the noon day sun had finally gotten to me, however. As we pulled up to the slip, I lost my lunch over the side. This was rather embarrassing, under the circumstances. The admiral, who was a little anxious by now, was a bit overzealous in her attempt to tie off the boat, and stepped off the bow into the Lafayette River! We don't go by Luvy and Thurston anymore. Now we call ourselves "Chunkin' and Dunkin'"!
Thanks! Chunkin'& Dunkin'
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