More First Boats
Our series on readers' first boats
From Roger Crawford
BOYHOOD MEMORIES
A recollection of wonder years and an old outboard engine.
I recently read a fascinating story about a 16-year-old boy who managed to make a 1500-mile-long solo cruise from Long Island, NY to Miami, FL in 1957 in a 15’ wooden boat powered by a 25 HP outboard motor. That’s an impressive accomplishment for a lad of that age.
Reflecting back to when I was 13 in the summer of 1957, I thought that going alone three miles down to the other end of Ossipee Lake, NH and then back again to our summer cottage in my 12’ aluminum skiff with a 5 HP Johnson outboard was a big deal. In fact, it was rarely accomplished without one of my friends along with me for moral support, and hopefully a bit of requisite adolescent mischief somewhere along the way.
Occasionally I would slip out of the cottage at sunrise before anyone was awake, shove the boat quietly off the sandy beach and row out a few hundred yards so I wouldn’t wake up the family when I started the engine.
The water was usually flat and glassy smooth in those early hours and held magical reflections of the clouds and the surrounding peaks of New Hampshire’s White Mountains. Gliding across the water at about 15 MPH was surreal and I felt the burgeoning empowerment of adolescent independence.
The old Johnson always ran well but was a bit stiff when turning the motor to go left or right (which I now refer to as “port and starboard”), so I would work to get the motor to stay fixed in a position that steered the boat dead straight when I took my hand off it. Then, performing an act of faith, I’d scramble up to the seat way up in the bow of the boat and grab ahold of the gunnels. Leaning to the left or right would get the boat to respond to the change of the angle of the hull in the water and force the boat to turn. Because the boat was more level in the water with my weight forward it would also pick up a little speed. Even better. With about 2’ of boat ahead of me and 10’ behind me I felt like a pilot in a jet plane. It didn’t get better than this for a kid who loved to play with water.
Lean to the left a bit and she would turn slowly and smoothly in a long, graceful arc to the right. Lean right and she would go the other way, round and round, here, or there, who cared? I can still recall the sound of the tiny wavelets skittering beneath the bottom of the aluminum boat.
After about a half hour I’d glide back to the cottage, and my parents asked what I had been up to, I would do what 13 year old boys do; shrug my shoulders nonchalantly and just say “Oh, I just went for a little boat ride”.
Now, over 60 years later with a modestly impressive fleet of 8 small boats, one of them is a 12’ aluminum skiff but only with a 2 HP outboard. The smaller motor won’t get the boat much above a less than thrilling speed of about 8 MPH and won’t plane of course. Nor do I hurdle my way up to the bow seat. I do, however, in a fashion relative to my advanced age, still get a little jazzed by the experience, and more so the memories it rekindles.
Somehow or other the old 5 HP Johnson stayed in the family but hadn’t been used in decades when my dad gave it to me to see if I could get it running again. Although now a legitimate antique, it merely sat forlorn in a dusty corner of the boat shop for years, a reminder of those youthful days we had together. There’s a wonderful little maritime museum in Northeast Harbor, Maine where I spend some time each summer and they have a small but impressive collection of antique outboard motors. I decided that if the old Johnson was to spend eternity somewhere that I would give it to them, and that’s where it now honorably resides for others to appreciate. Each summer I visit it. Neither of us is in our prime anymore, but at least the Johnson gets admired for its dents and nicks while I do not. I look her over, give her a few affectionate pats, perhaps discretely get a tiny bit emotional, grab the tiller once more and relive the memories of those glassy mornings on the lake.
As you move forward in life you realize the inevitable impermanence of so many things you once valued and learn to accept letting go of them bit by bit. The memories, however, can last a lifetime.
From David Weglicki
When I was growing up my uncles were power boaters, mostly wooden Lyman's built in Sandusky, Ohio. Power boating and fishing with my uncles was OK but at a young age we had an annual family picnic at Pymatuning Réservoir located on the Ohio / Pennsylvania border. I remember watching sail boats silently gliding along with NO motor. Wonder how this worked! Magic? I understood motorboats. They had an engine like a car. In 1965 I was fascinated by the story of Robert Manry sailing across the Atlantic Ocean in Tinkerbelle, a 13.5-foot sailboat. We lived in the Cleveland, Ohio area as did Manry, so there was a lot of local news coverage over that summer.
In 1976 as an engineering student in collage, I bought my first preliminary sailboat in order to satisfy my engineering curiosity and learn about sailing. My dad wasn't a boater since he had crossed the Pacific Ocean twice on troop ships during World War II, 40 days each way. Understandably, that was enough boating for a lifetime for him, but me getting a boat was okay as far as he was concerned. Mom on the other hand thought that this would be certain death, serious injury or at least rescue by the appropriate authorities. Costing a couple of hundred bucks and coming in a big cardboard box, the boat was a Lockley Sea Devil - 12 foot in length and made of polystyrene plastic which was christened Captain Guano. Sounding exotic and romantic, most people didn't realize that "guano" is the accumulated excrement of sea birds or bats and the clever ironic humor of the name was lost. Armed with copy of This is Sailing - A Complete Course by Richard Creagh-Osborne, I was off and running, learning the basics (kind of) and falling into the sailing rabbit hole. But I wanted more! The cardboard box that the boat came in was probably just as seaworthy as the boat itself.
My first real sailboat was two years later after I graduated from college. While my collage friends were buying new cars, my first major purchase (with my first bank loan) was a sailboat. It was a new 1978 15-foot Chrysler Mutineer, Sail number 3717. It cost about $2700. It was named Sea Cruise after an old rock-n-roll song. At first, it was like piloting a square rigger ship compared to the old Captain Guano, admittedly intimidating and a little scary (maybe mom was right!). I sailed a lot in all kinds of weather with my pick-up crew friends and learned a lot, including how to right a capsized sailboat that went turtle. At the same time, I got into racing with the local Mutineer Fleet in which my learning curve really took off. I got reasonably proficient in both sailing and racing in a short time. Adding spinnaker gear a few years later resulted in yet more adventure (and scary moments). Overall, it was a great time in a great boat. I've sailed on a lot of different boats over the years, but your "first" including learning the basics, is always a special experience and memory.
Honorable mention. Along with the first boat came the inevitable first tow vehicle, a 1974 AMC Gremlin. Way before SUVs, people towed trailers with whatever they had. My uncle towed his Lyman motorboat with his Cadillac Coupe de Ville. With its bullet proof 6-cylinder engine, the Gremlin towed the 600 lb. Sea Cruise and trailer reasonably well as long as you gave yourself plenty of room to stop. The Gremlin drum brakes were barely adequate to stop the car by itself.
Fast forward, I'm retired now after a career in Civil Engineering Highway Design and Public Works Projects. Currently I sail a Laser and on a friend’s Highlander. I've recently been getting involved in wooden boat building as well, but that's a whole other story. I may be replying again with "My First Boat - That I Built Myself.” It's hard to believe that so far, it's been a 47-year journey! •SCA•
David - good choices and priorities! Chyrsler made some nice boats and I miss AMC as well. Keep it happening -
More great memories……so many boats, so little time left!