Instead of blowing out of the harbour on Friday evening as fast as possible, we spent the first weekend of our vacation at our home marina Newport with all of our buddies. I took Dad for a 1am dinghy ride on the lake, which was glassy calm and moonlit by the crescent. It is always surreal being on the lake at that time, when you are the only boat, the shoreline is alive with colourful lights, and the water is black. Dad loved it, and he also loved our new dinghy which is like a Cadillac compared to our old one.
Saturday morning arrived quickly, and it was bright and calm so I took Dad for an early morning swim and superficial lake bath at the small beach just outside of our harbour entrance. In this part of the lake, the water temperature can swing dramatically from week to week. If the currents and winds are just right, it pulls up the frigid water from the bottom of the lake and replaces all the warm stuff. The temperature was a bit cooler than the weekend before, but not too bad, so we stayed for a good long while.
After breakfast, I introduced Dad to one fundamental law of boat life, or at least life on SeaLight. We’re not allowed to have any fun for the day until we’ve done at least 1.5 jobs. There is never a shortage of work on a boat, as new issues appear faster than one can repair existing ones. Today’s job was to fish cables from our new solar panels into the main salon, which was really only half a job as we had already got a start on it the weekend before. The full job was to fish a speed and temperature transducer cable from nearly the front of the boat back to the electronic gauges in the cockpit. The nice thing about the half job rule is the next day you can get right at it and don’t have to waste time figuring out which of the dozens of outstanding jobs to work on.
These jobs took us until mid-afternoon and knuckle blood was drawn on at least four separate occasions, but we got it done; the new transducer worked perfectly and the solar wires were ready for connecting to the new solar controllers…but that would be a job for a different day. I also introduced Dad to “boat yoga”, which is the ultimate in practical flexibility training as you need to contort your body into unimaginable positions when doing jobs in small boat spaces that were designed for servicing by Oompa Loompas.
We went back out to the beach for drinks and a swim with a few dock buddies then went up to the club house for a potluck supper with forty other Newporters. The meal was incredible and, as usual, our marina posse really outdid themselves with the potluck contributions. After the cleanup and trivia competition (which our table won with 17 correct answers out of 20, mostly thanks to Stella and her fresh knowledge of biology, space, and science) we lingered for a long time with our box of wine chatting with friends, then may have had a nightcap in the cockpit before retiring.
Sunday Funday means going for an early morning paddleboard and swim then busting ass on jobs for the day. The anchor windless had stopped working the weekend before, so we ripped the v-berth apart and I boat yoga’d into position to start testing wires and controllers with Dad retrieving and handing over the required tools like a surgeon’s assistant. We extracted the throbbing heart of the system and tried to open it up but didn’t have the required bits, so we put that job on ice until we could find what we needed. The half job for the day was figuring out where to mount the solar controllers, and Dad came up with a far better location than I was originally thinking.
Our friends Greg and Sharon own their own island in Lake Ontario so we spent the afternoon there, along with about half of the entire membership of the club. It’s a beautiful island and is normally stored in the trunk of their vehicle, but once you inflate that baby, wow – we’re talking cup holders/marine ashtrays, seatbacks, a slippery seal/walrus entrance ramp, a beer-chilling chamber (which was actually warmer than the lake because when people peed in their seats, it would run down into there), and a three metre high diving board. People were really in the mood for shenanigans so after some heavy drinking things got really fun. With four boats rafted up together bouncing around in the waves and the island tethered behind them by a rope, there was plenty of opportunity for falls and wipeouts. Sharon slipped getting on the island, did some kind of barrel roll, then fell into the arms of Chris, which could have been a magical Hallmark moment, but it was way too sloppy for that. Not wanting to be outdone, Chris got himself a drink refill from the boat then tripped on the island, slid across the seats, then fell face first into the beer cooling chamber/pee collection point, which also served as a foot marinating station. I think he might have bit somebody’s toe when he was in there, but he eventually launched out of the chamber looking half drowned and delirious and wearing this awesome Animal the Muppet tshirt, which I think is what put him in the crazy mood in the first place. But Carl had the best entrance of all. He is not a drinker and is a pretty big dude, so when he did a Super Mario jump off the back of the boat onto the island, it double-bounced three of us straight up in the air. I did a neat backflip and landed easily back in my spot, but the other two got bounced out into the lake, near the shore. Carl then rocketed forward, roundhouse kicked Greg in the side of the face and shoulder checked my dad, sending his beer flying through the air. He then landed artfully right in the chair he was going for, then smiled and waited for a round of applause, which he received after we’d revived Greg.
Besides the action on Greg Island, there was plenty of other stuff going on. A couple other Newport boats were anchored nearby and they were dancing on the boat and falling over the side regularly. Somebody brought their Sea Doo and came screaming by Greg Island at full speed and barely managed to not decapitate anybody. Magnus was towing his sister and her friend around behind the paddleboard as they floated in rapidly leaking Dollar Store floaties. I sat back in my chair, sipped my beer, splashed some refreshing lake water on my face, and watched the action unfoldoing around us and was reminded of one thing: how much I hate winter.
Back at Newport we gathered at the parkette for the traditional Sunday Boat Family Dinner. It was more entertaining than usual as several people were bandaged up or limping from injuries sustained from the afternoon hijinks on the island, which was now planted on the grass drying out, unhappily awaiting its repatriation to Greg and Sharon’s vehicle. The dinner was especially rewarding for Ana and I as we often have to leave earlier on Sundays, but not today baby, as our boat vacation had already started and office work was not on the itinerary.
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