Arrrgh!!!

I USED to have a cast iron stomach before I met DH. It's disappeared as a result of a number of really bad boating days, and Monroe Harbor in Chicago.
We moor the boat in Monroe Harbor, which is run by the Chicago Park District. Of all their harbors, this one is perhaps the choppiest. Waves come straight in from the lake, hit the seawall and bounce back out, so the boats are constantly rocking to and fro.

The first year the Arr!! was arrrs....(sorry....couldn't resist), we had her craned into the Chicago River in June, had the mast stepped, and joined our first flotilla motoring upriver to Lake Michigan. We learned a lot about flotillas that trip (which might be another entry), and had an absolutely idyllic journey through the city. We enjoyed the sun glinting on the water and off the glass canyon around us, and felt a camaraderie with most of the other boaters. We learned how to wait for bridges to be raised so that we could pass, and discovered how to finesse the lock. I had the most amazingly wonderful time, I could understand what drew people to boats.

Two years later, DH and I are ready to make that trip again, and one of my nieces and her boyfriend are going to go with us. Unfortunately, it's a gray, cloudy day, with the possibility of rain. By now, DH has learned that he can motor up river and THEN have the mast stepped, so the trip is a lot faster. With your mast down you don't have to wait for bridges to be opened. We made good time, and just as we got the to place where the mast is to be raised, a cold rain started.

In the preceeding two years, I had learned not to eat or drink anything if I was going to be sailing, so other than a cup of tea about five in the morning, I was relatively dry. While they were steppiing the mast, I had two cookies, congratulating myself on how well I was doing this trip, despite the rain.

So, the mast is in place, and we make it through the locks and all hell breaks loose. The waves are HUGE rollers coming in from the northeast. The wind and rain have picked up, and there is a vicious chop. For a few moments I wondered if the boat could withstand the battering it was getting. Still, I held on, and was fine, until we got into the harbor.

At that point, we were at the mercy of the waves hitting the seawall and bouncing back, and the rain is coming down harder. DH had to hook us up to the mooring ball, and call the tender for a ride to the dock. He's busily closing up the boat, and I'm standing in the galley next to the open hatch, trying to ignore my stomach. The tender took ages to get to us.

I must have looked green, because my niece left the shelter of the cabin to stand on deck in the heavy rain, and shortly there after, I tossed the cookies. And the tea, and perhaps dinner from the night before, and anything I had eaten for the last month. Gawddddddddd I was sick! Wave after wave. I looked out at the water and gauged whether I could make it to the seawall if I jumped into the lake. Even though I'm not a strong swimmer, I might have chanced it, just to get off the damned boat, but I realized I wouldn't be able to get OUT of the lake once I got to the seawall.

The tender came, and my niece made it across. Her boyfriend followed, making it look like a chinch. DH pursuaded me to leave the shelter of the cabin, and the sink that is now holding my insides. He flushed the sink, slaped the door in place and locked it and turned me toward the tender.

Now, you need to know that tender drivers do not generally hang around if you aren't ready for your ride. Add to that the fact that the swells are making it very difficult for the driver to keep the boats aligned. In the back of my mind, I was aware that they were impatient for me to get my act together and get on the tender.

I looked across and saw that I had a 1 to 2 foot jump which is nothing if you are jumping from here to there on a floor. But, because of the waves, the boats were not at the same level. As one went down, the other went up. I stared in horror, thinking "You want me to do WHAT???" The riders on the tender could see all that reflected on my face and they reached out their hands to me......and I FLUNG myself at them! I made it. Safely! DH followed, and I found a seat and huddled there, waiting for land, blessed land.

The boat was filled with cheery sailors who had considered it to be a great day. Several of them even tried to strike up a conversation with me. All I could think was "Dear Lord, if you get me out of this mess, I PROMISE I will never do this again!"

And I haven't.