In my family’s Vermont house, we have two boats. We have a speed boat meant for pleasure cruises and water-skiing and we have a second boat meant for fishing. The fishing boat or the “little boat” as we call it, is a simple aluminum boat with a twenty horsepower outboard motor. Because my brother and I were the first ones to the house this summer, we were responsible for putting both boats in the water. The little boat is usually turned over and left in the woods during the winter months and we store the little boat motor in a safe, indoor facility.
On the day I chose to put the little boat in the water, the lake was especially choppy. There was a strong north wind and the waves were big. Still, the process is not too difficult and with a little help, I had the motor attached to the boat and I was taking the boat on a test drive. Now the little boat was very old and the wooden frame on the back of the boat, which holds the motor, had been deteriorating for years. The boat should have been replaced years beforehand but most of the family, me in particular, had grown much attached to it. For me at least, the boat held countless fond memories of my childhood. It was these memories that I was pondering with a smile as I took the old trusty little boat for its annual test drive. Suddenly, the boat hit a big wave and my left arm, which was gripping and steering the motor, was forced high into the air. I quickly turned around to see the little boat’s outboard motor 2 feet in the air, completely detached from the boat. This was not good. Apparently, the little boat’s wooden frame was so week that it could no longer support the heavy motor. Now, I had an extremely sharp propeller violently turning out of the water about 3 feet from my face. Needless to say I was terrified. My right arm instinctively came around and I grabbed the top of the motor, holding it up with all my strength as I tried to find some way to hit the stop button. Luckily, I was able to lean the motor on the little boat and shut the propeller off without cutting any of my limbs off. I pulled the motor into the boat and sighed at the thought of the long, motor less trip back to the dock.
Friday, July 3, 2009
My Vermont Experience: The Canoe Trip
Six summers ago, a large portion of my extended family came together for a grand celebration. We were commemorating the Mitchell family’s 50th year in Charlotte, Vermont. 50 years earlier, my grandfather had bought and helped build a lovely wooden vacation home along the shore of Lake Champlain. Since the acquisition, a summer has not passed without my father visiting the lake and since my birth; a summer has not passed where I have failed to visit.
In June of 2009, my brother Boh and I and a handful of friends made the long drive to the summer house for a six day vacation. On the first night, our spirits were high and we decided to have a few drinks in celebration. We had a long, fun night and at 1:00 a.m., just as we were heading to bed, I suggested we take a late night canoe trip. Everyone instantly applauded the suggestion and we headed down to the dock. My brother and his two friends took one canoe and I took a second canoe with my friend. The moon was full or nearly full and as we began paddling farther out on the lake, everyone took their turn in congratulating me on a great idea. “Man this awesome, good call on the canoe trip Dmitch,” said my little brother. Minutes later, he was singing a different tune.
For no apparent reason, my brother’s canoe tipped and with a big splash, all three passengers were dumped into the cold, dark water, more than a half mile off shore. My canoe paddled to the rescue. We carefully pulled my brother and one of his friends into the canoe and since there was no more room, my brother’s second friend, James, was forced to stay in the water and hold onto the canoe as we slowly paddled in. By the time we reached shore, my brother’s water logged phone (which he had in his pocket) was broken, James had caught a cold, and we had lost a paddle. In addition, my friend and I had to head back on a two hour search and rescue mission to recover the overturned canoe. In hindsight, I guess the trip wasn’t such a great idea.
In June of 2009, my brother Boh and I and a handful of friends made the long drive to the summer house for a six day vacation. On the first night, our spirits were high and we decided to have a few drinks in celebration. We had a long, fun night and at 1:00 a.m., just as we were heading to bed, I suggested we take a late night canoe trip. Everyone instantly applauded the suggestion and we headed down to the dock. My brother and his two friends took one canoe and I took a second canoe with my friend. The moon was full or nearly full and as we began paddling farther out on the lake, everyone took their turn in congratulating me on a great idea. “Man this awesome, good call on the canoe trip Dmitch,” said my little brother. Minutes later, he was singing a different tune.
For no apparent reason, my brother’s canoe tipped and with a big splash, all three passengers were dumped into the cold, dark water, more than a half mile off shore. My canoe paddled to the rescue. We carefully pulled my brother and one of his friends into the canoe and since there was no more room, my brother’s second friend, James, was forced to stay in the water and hold onto the canoe as we slowly paddled in. By the time we reached shore, my brother’s water logged phone (which he had in his pocket) was broken, James had caught a cold, and we had lost a paddle. In addition, my friend and I had to head back on a two hour search and rescue mission to recover the overturned canoe. In hindsight, I guess the trip wasn’t such a great idea.
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