Wheels for The Dingbat

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When we purchased Avante in 2006, the boat came equipped with practically everything that we needed to go cruising except for a tender or dinghy. The prior owner had kept his dinghy to use with his new boat. We did not need a dinghy while in the marina, but as soon as we ventured forth to cruise to an island or anyplace where we had to anchor, we would need a dinghy to get ashore. Thus, we soon found ourselves at a boat show looking at inflatable boats and outboard motors. It was an unexciting dinghy and engine purchase as far as The First Mate was concerned. The Captain had done some research and had a pretty good idea of what he wanted. He found a dinghy made by a respected manufacturer, checked the dimensions to make sure that it could easily be stored on Avante’s foredeck, and signed up for a “boat show deal” to purchase an Aquapro dinghy and a Yamaha outboard motor. The dealer agreed to deliver them to us a week or so later.

The new dinghy and engine arrived on a trailer one Saturday morning at the nearby boat ramp. The Captain inspected everything, paid the remaining balance, and then had to go off to another appointment. The First Mate was left alone with the dealer who had agreed to launch the dinghy in the water and then teach her the intricacies of starting the engine and steering it out and about. Her introduction to the dinghy started off on the wrong foot when she was promptly upended while stepping onto the slippery sloping floor. (We now have additional non-skid strategically placed, but did not then.) The dealer first showed her how to start the engine. Just a few steps. It’s easy. Then he took her for a spin showing her which direction to turn the arm of the motor. Little did this guy know about The First Mate’s physics issues. Everything was all counterintuitive. Right goes left, left goes right. Up is down, down is up. “This is not going to work, but we’ll give it a try,” she muttered. Try she did, and what a disaster! We went in circles. Instead of slowing down, it nearly turned turtle as she blasted it off with an open throttle. It did not take long for the dealer to realize he had a lost cause on his hands, and all he then wanted to do was get back to the dock and out of there as inconspicuously and as quickly as possible. It was Saturday morning, and the boat ramp was filled with weekend fisher people launching their boats to head out to catch the Big One. This “audience”, which The First Mate had not asked for, was mostly men, most of whom were into their first beers of the morning, and they had an amusing time watching this spectacle. At her expense! She was not pleased.

Returning to the dock, The First Mast slowly angled in to make a landing. At the last moment, instead of turning the control in the direction to slow it down further, she twisted it the wrong way (right way to her logic). The dinghy careened into the dock and because it is a rubber inflatable after all, it bounced off at a weird angle. Mortified and angry, she accomplished a 540-degree turn and heads back to the dock. Not wishing to tempt Fate a second time, she let the dinghy coast in slowly – painfully slowly. The dealer just as slowly and carefully reached out to grab onto a piece of dock. Once done, he hopped on land faster than he had probably ever moved in his life. The First Mate did the natural thing to her and turned off the engine, which happened to be the easiest thing to do on this contraption. All one has to do is push a button, and the engine stops running. Unfortunately, she then had to restart it so she could motor out and around to where Avante was docked. It sounded so easy when the dealer had earlier explained how to start the thing. Now, nothing is easy. Does the choke go in or out? Does she even use the choke? Which way is neutral? Which direction does she engage the motor once it starts? To her, forward is backward: backward is forward. This is all Greek to her!

To the dealer’s credit, he had not made a hasty retreat. He stayed to re-explain engine start-up. With everything now in the correct position, all she had to do was pull the starter cord out smartly. She pulled, and she pulled. She tried different angles, straight back, straight up. Her shoulder hurt. Her back protested. She has worked up a sweat, and the engine would not even sputter. She is ready to tell this dealer to take the whole thing back and bring her something with a key. Turn it, and it starts. That’s it. Taking pity, he climbed back in, and with one good yank on that cord, the engine turned over smartly for him. Why not for her?

Engine started, she was now about to make her maiden voyage out into the harbor and around to Avante’s marina. Somehow, we (she and the dinghy) spasmodically motored away from the dock and out the boat ramp launching area into the open harbor without hitting another thing. She refused to look at or acknowledge even a one of the bug-eyed, pot-bellied, grinning fisher people out there watching her spectacle. Out in the open harbor, the waves were bumpy and lumpy. The dinghy’s rocking was unnerving and unpredictable to the inexperienced First Mate. Again she mistakenly gunned the engine. This 8-cylindar engine has more power than she can handle. Nearly dumped in the ocean again, she reduced speed to a crawl, really just above a stall. She had to putter along f-o-r-e-v-e-r before there was an opening back into the marina. It took 45 minutes for her to do what should have been a 10-minute run. She was scared, mad, embarrassed and did not want another thing to do with this –– this — this dingy thing —this Dingbat! That’s it – The Dingbat is christened.

When she finally got to Avante and a thoroughly perplexed Captain who had begun to worry because she had taken so long, she yelled to him to grab the line because the boat will not stop on its own. Then she vented on and on about this miserable Dingbat with its slippery, sloping sides and its unwieldy, unworkable engine. Looking at his beautiful new dinghy and its shiny, new powerful engine with added-on wings to plane the boat upward out of the water, he wondered who was the dingbat in this whole sad scenario. Nevertheless, the name stuck. The Dingbat is collectively the name we use for the dingy and its engine.

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For The First Mate and The Dingbat, initial antipathy slowly settles into mutual tolerance. She tolerates The Dingbat out of necessity. The Dingbat is like a horse that can tell when it is being ridden by a novice and is resentful. It tolerates her just to please The Captain, but it will only tolerate so much. Every time she operates it, The First Mate knows that The Dingbat is thinking “one more mistake like that, and I will really teach you a lesson.” Life goes on like this as we sail up to and through The San Juan and Gulf Islands, into the remote reaches of British Columbia and north to Alaska. The “landing the dinghy at a dock” exercise is somewhat mastered, though starting the engine remains a 50-50 proposition.

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A constant source of contention, however, for which we have no great answer is the “landing the dinghy on the beach” exercise. Getting to the beach is no problem, but then we must haul the dinghy far enough ashore to keep it safe from a rising tide. The scene goes like this: We motor into shore until we get into shallow water, remembering to tilt the engine upward so that the propeller does not hit any rocks or get stuck in the sand. Stepping into the cold water of the Northwest, we each grab a side and haul The Dingbat toward shore. This works fine as long as The Dingbat is afloat, but once aground, there is no way The First Mate can lift her half of the 200 pound combined weight of dinghy and motor. She lifts and strains. The Captain cannot understand why she cannot carry her half of the load. Not for the first time, she wonders what he thinks he married. When he finally accepts that all forward motion has come to a standstill, The Captain comes up with Plan B – something he maintains that a captain must always have at his fingertips. To redistribute the load, he moves The First Mate to the bow of the dinghy where her load drops to approximately 50 pounds or half of the dinghy weight. He moves to the stern of the dinghy and straddles the engine, so that his load is now half of the dinghy weight and almost all of the engine weight. On the command of lift, The First Mate lifts and awkwardly steps backward while The Captain lifts and does a very awkward sort of duck waddle with the motor and all its sharp edges dangerously located between his legs. This is far from a smooth operation. In fact, we look and feel downright ridiculous, but at least we have a system for hauling The Dingbat up the beach. For The First Mate, this indignity is just one more ding to add to her Dingbat dislike list. If she could kick the thing without getting hurt she would!

After returning to San Diego and in preparation for Mexico’s sandy beaches and the turbulent surf landings that await us there, The Captain arrives at the dock one day with new equipment for The Dingbat. WHEELS! The Dingbat is enraged. This is unthinkable! Talk about humiliation! Wheels attached to a dinghy? How undignified! The Dingbat is a boat, and boat do not have wheels. This just cannot be happening, but it does. Holes are drilled, and metal supports are screwed into its stern, and these oversized, fat wheels are attached. Wheels to support the over-weight Dingbat as we more gracefully haul it onto the beach or back to the surf. Wheels to protect the engine and prop from rocks as we head to and from shore in the shallow waters.

The First Mate had wanted these wheels when they first purchased The Dingbat. She moaned and pleaded for them every time she had to haul the thing, but The Captain would not hear of it. In cahoots with The Dingbat, he did not think they were appropriate attire for a dinghy. They were for the weak – not for him and his dinghy. His opinion changed, though, following talks with cruisers who had been to Mexico and knew what they are talking about. Wheels are a must-have in Mexico where the surf often pounds ashore making both landings and takeoffs in dinghies perilous. Fast action is required, and wheels help both protect the motor and make moving the dinghy quicker and easier. The First Mate is delighted. The Captain is resigned to the necessity.

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