Two sailors, two sailboats, one adventure
Issue 51 : Nov/Dec 2006
“I’m not going to leave you!” Bill Robinson radioed. Far ahead, Bill and his ketch, Defiant, turned and raced toward me. Hurricane Isabel’s ragged storm bands could be seen over the bruised horizon. The gusty 26-knot wind had been gradually increasing. Distant thunder rumbled. Angel, my 1978 Bayfield 29 cutter, faltered as her diesel lost RPM and struggled weakly.
“I have to sail there,” I radioed, realizing that our destination was straight upwind. “There’s not enough time,” Bill responded. Madly flinging spray, Defiant barreled through choppy, confused seas. Circling my barely moving Bayfield, Bill tossed me a line. I hastily secured the rope with wet, slippery hands. Protectively standing by, Defiant waited for an OK signal. In moments the powerful ketch was pulling Angel toward safety. (Kids, don’t try this at home! Defiant’s heavy transmission and specialized 18-inch pusher prop made a brief tow safely possible. Most sailboat transmissions are not designed for towing and damage from shock loads can occur.)
Once we slipped into sheltered waters, Angel was able to limp along on her own. Defi ant led the way, occasionally slowing to allow my ailing cruiser to catch up. Both sailboats were soon anchored and tied in a natural mangrove hideaway. Surrounded by thick trees on all sides, we were safe as the hurricane brushed past with driving rain and squealing gale-force winds. Meanwhile, I played detective with Angel’s diesel and nursed her back to health. A defective O-ring had allowed air to leak into the fuel line. Just the smallest bit of air can cause a lot of grief.
“I just couldn’t leave you there,” Bill said as I thanked him for the tow. He shrugged, modest. “What are buddy-cruisers for!” Buddy-cruisers, indeed! After many years of sociable sailing, Defiant and Angel have become inseparable. How did I ever get so lucky?
The sail-by suitor
As a youth, I started cruising in the Great Lakes area. An ex-engineer turned wannabe artist, my lifestyle became flexible enough to allow me to travel in search of the warmer latitudes of the tropics. Traveling there led to a move south.
Like a wary and independent stray cat, I value the peaceful solitude and unfettered life of a singlehander. I also treasure a balanced social life, but long-term friendships aren’t easy for a wandering solo cruiser. At least I had Angel, a partner for life. Then a big blue ketch came along. It was early spring in the Gulf of Mexico, and there must’ve been something in the balmy air . . .
Strutting and tacking, sails luffing then billowing, the comely ketch wove nearby artfully. Defiant, read her broad stern. She was a rare 36-foot 1974 Morgan Out Island. Charmed, Angel and I seductively wiggled and snake-waked in response. Encouraged, Defiant nosed along-side then coyly curved away. I caught a glimpse of her lone captain. He was grinning. Since she is a much faster vessel, Defiant pulled alongside one more time. Her captain and I exchanged enthusiastic waves and bashful smiles. Our two vessels peeled away, returning to their respective routes. I watched as Defiant silently slid into the blue distance. Who was that gallant cruiser? I recalled the home port that was visible on his stern. On a coastal hop toward the Florida Keys, Angel had stumbled into Defiant’s home territory. We would meet again.
A new port
The wind faded as the sun peered over the purple horizon. Angel bumbled about, wearily searching for a good spot to anchor. The shallow waters of the keys were new, strange, and beautiful. I felt lost. With her just-lowered sails hanging and a bit disheveled, Angel meandered. I was fearful of running aground in unknown shallows. My radio crackled. “Angel, Angel, Angel. Defiant.”
Defiant? It was him! I quickly switched to a working channel. Soon, Angel was primly motoring around the anchored blue ketch. “Raft up to me?” Defiant’s captain suggested. It was the saltiest pickup line I’d ever heard. It worked. As the blazing sun rose overhead, Defiant looked quite content with a curvaceous yellow Bayfield tied to her wide blue side. Two lone sailors were lonely no more. That was six years ago.
I soon learned that Bill had chosen his liveaboard lifestyle for the same reasons I had. We both enjoyed shoreside activities, exploring nature, and sightseeing. Most of all, we each loved to sail. Bill, a professional mariner, had spent his entire life working and playing on the ocean. His father had been a world-traveling captain as well. I came from a humble line of fishermen and working sailors. It seemed natural for us to surround ourselves with water, a familiar, deeply ingrained, element.
But we were both realistic. Neither of us cruised to escape society or to break records. We simply did what we enjoyed and worked hard at it. We quickly learned that buddy cruising had many benefits. Bill and I would share tools, resources, and cookouts. We provided each other with a margin of safety in remote areas. Best of all is the greater enjoyment and meaningfulness to be had when sharing an adventure with another.
Playful moments
“They’re coming toward us,” I radioed, uncertain. “Those two guys?” Bill responded. “They’re just charter fishing boats.”
We’d been daysailing in the Atlantic. When the wind faded, Defiant and Angel began to lazily power toward the nearest anchorage. Another similarity that Bill and I shared was a playful streak and an oversized sense of humor. These traits would manifest themselves at any moment. This time, we found ourselves motoring in donuts around each other. Angel scurried behind Defiant. Bill veered away and circled me. Angel, able to turn more tightly, matched Defiant’s moves. Masts swaying, bows bobbing, we teased each other like birds parading in a courtship display. The two fishing boats nosed as close as they dared, their curious crews staring with bewildered expressions.
“Could they report us for weird behavior?” I asked. “We must look crazy.”
“Maybe we are!” Bill responded, laughter in his voice. Defiant and Angel settled down self-consciously. The show over, the two fishing boats drifted away. Bill carefully matched my speed as we traveled onward. Water curling and foaming past our bows, we bounded over the glittering jade-green sea together.
Defiant and Angel were ready for another adventure. Side by side.
Thank you to Sailrite Enterprises, Inc., for providing free access to back issues of Good Old Boat through intellectual property rights. Sailrite.com
