As I came around the parking lot toward the ramp I could see a problem. A young man was standing looking at his boat. He had not moved his vehicle and the empty boat trailer was right there next to him. This was a single slot ramp – one boat at a time. Boaters came in, lined up along the right side of the parking lot down to the ramp, and awaited their turn. So, until he moved, I could not launch.
You know, it’s not like I don’t want to help people – I do. But do you ever sometimes, wish another person would come along to offer help to someone obviously in need of help? That was my dilemma this morning. I screamed to myself under my breath, “Somebody else PLEASE come and help this man!”
There in the middle of the ramp, blocking everything was his boat. I don’t mean in the water. I mean on the pavement.
I got out and walked over to him. Without saying a word to each other we stood and looked at the boat. I’m sure he was thinking about what my thoughts of him were. I know I was thinking some things about him that he did not want to hear! I had a fishing party to pick up in thirty minutes at the public fuel docks, and he was blocking my way.
The boat was an old – very old – fiberglass runabout with a covered bow, cloudy plastic windshield, and a molded-into-the-boat bench seat behind the windshield. I would guess an early 1960’s vintage runabout. It was probably very nice in its day, but its day had long since gone by.
The trailer was even worse. It was some type of homemade affair. It looked like old galvanized chain link fence posts had been welded together to form the bed of the trailer. Rollers – or what was left of them – had been welded onto that pipe bed, and a hitch had been bolted to the front end. Just behind the hitch was a Smithsonian relic of a winch, with a metal cable on the winch. I assume the cable was steel because it was covered with rust and had acquired a permanent memory of being coiled onto the shaft of the winch. The end of the cable was a frayed tangle of wire actually knotted – granny style – to a rusty trailer hook. Just the fact that he made it to the ramp in one piece was a miracle in itself.
Well, the boat wasn’t going to move itself, so I began to move things. I did not even ask if he needed help, I simply began giving him instructions. As he wound the winch handle backwards, I grabbed the end of the cable and tried to stretch the coils in it to reach the back of the trailer. It did barely get to the back of the trailer.
I told him to start the car and watch me. As I directed him we would back the trailer up under the boat. I had done this before with my own boat in order to repair, sandblast, and paint my trailer. In the ‘50s I remember my dad doing the same thing when a hurricane was approaching. He literally launched the boat onto the ground in the side yard. He then filled the boat with water (I guess he thought the weight would keep the boat from blowing away) and then tied the trailer in an almost vertical position to an oak tree.
The back of the trailer came in contact with the boat, and I managed to hook the cable to the bow eye. The process would be that I would winch the boat and keep the cable tight as he slowly back the trailer up under the boat. I had done it many times before – just never on a boat ramp and never with such questionable equipment.
The trailer was a break-frame trailer. I’m not even sure they make break-frames any longer. But with the trailer’s ability to break and arch upward in the middle the process would be easier and the boat would come on the trailer more quickly. What I did not see was that the locking bolt for the break point was already pulled. As I reached up to double check the anti-reverse pall on the winch, the trailer broke upward, catching my hand in between the now very taught cable (very rusty taught cable) and the winch reel. Needless to say we now had some very rusty blood all over the whole situation. I let the winch handle go to release the tension and got out of the way. My hand was free, but it was deeply cut and very messy.
Never the one to say quit, I wrapped my hand in a clean, white t-shirt (I always carry a change of clothes in my truck when I fish), and continued.
The whole idea in this mess is to tell you that putting your boat on the pavement is not the end of the world. Maybe it came off while you were back the boat down – as I think was the case with my friend here. Or maybe it came off as you pulled the trailer out of the water. Either way, the issue is one of (1) making sure that you are securely hooked when backing down or pulling a boat from the water, and (2) making double sure you don’t drag the boat on the pavement. If the boat comes off the trailer, just stop where you are. Trying to winch the boat back on the trailer and dragging the transom on the pavement will do irreparable harm. Get help and back the trailer under the boat. Use the winch to keep thing tight, and simply wind as the trailer moves backward. I’ve seen boaters actually do this and then re-launch the boat for a day’s outing. A few scratches and a bruised ego were all that came out of it.
We did manage to get the boat on the trailer and tied down. My friend drove off into the sunrise, never to be seen again – at least I never saw him again. To this day I don’t know whether he was launching or retrieving that boat. I do remember a heavy smell of a large volume of previously consumed adult beverage. And, that probably carried a lot of blame for the whole scene.
Oh – my hand? I had to cancel my fishing that morning. I called a friend who was idle and had him take my fishing party. I spent five hours in the local hospital emergency room to get the wound cleaned and stitched, and to get a tetanus shot. With a change of nursing shifts in the middle of this, they tried to give me two shots, arguing that they had never given me the first tetanus shot. But that’s another story for another day.
