A vicious deranged, and heartless killer took a chainsaw to the hull of the “Pepper Pot”, my 17′ sloop, and slashed it beyond repair. Why would anyone do such a thing? In the twenty years that we were together she had given me countless hours of pleasure, solitude, and a great feeling of adventure every time we went out; and she had weathered many a storm –hurricanes, Super Storm Sandy and even a tornado. If she got knocked down, she’d always bounce back. But this? What an ignoble end to a loyal friend. I tried to be philosophical: “Nothing lasts forever”. I was becoming weary of the yearly ritual—painting the bottom, making repairs, schlepping the boat in the water in the Spring, schlepping it out in the Fall, so maybe this was all for the best…It didn’t work. I still felt violated. My daughter half-jokingly mused;” Maybe it was one of your ex-girlfriends out for revenge”. If that were the case, there would have been plenty of suspects. I remember one time, early on, when I had parked the boat on a small island in the Great South Bay and fell asleep on the beach with my girlfriend after a picnic, only to awake to the sight of my boat drifting out to sea, dragging the anchor along with it. Maybe the sailboat was jealous for having been abandoned for another woman. I jumped into the water, leaving my date on the beach, and swam out to retrieve her. A kind hearted motor-boater picked me up and we caught up with the boat a 1/2 mile down wind. When I got back to the beach, my girlfriend was gone. Some guy on a jet ski came along and took her back to shore.
On another occasion, I was with a ‘friend’ sailing East toward Ocean Beach, in high winds and rough seas when the rudder snapped in half, leaving us in a precarious situation. I tried to sail just by maneuvering the sails but the current was too strong for my little boat. So I decided to let my friend sail as best she could while I put both hands on the paddle at the stern and used it as a rudder. We eventually made it back to shore and I had the boat towed to Fair Harbor. Later that day, I realized I could have dropped anchor and waited for a friendly boater to pick us up; this was before the age of cell phones. I learned a lesson: as easy as it is to say but much more difficult to do: “Stay calm and Carry on”.
The death of my boat marks the end of an era. I’ll rent others but never the same one twice; I don’t want to get too attached. In my younger days, I had been accused by many a girlfriend of not being able to make a commitment. When I began to falter, thinking may be they were right, I thought of her, my sailboat, and knew that they were wrong. I remember when I first got her. My brother and I sailed her across the Bay from Oakdale to Fair Harbor. My brother and I bickered over who was the better sailor and who was the captain. Our sibling rivalry may have contributed to extending the crossing longer than it should’ve been. Once again, this was long before cell phones, my sister-in-law panicked when we were late getting in and had the Coast Guard out looking for us. She held me responsible and was angry for some time after that.
It was strictly Cheapo-Cheapo productions. I paid $750 bucks for her in 1990. It was the best investment that I ever made, some might say it was the only investment that I ever made. When I would meet a woman she would often ask what kind of car I drove. I would say:” I don’t own a car, but I do own a sailboat. One woman said:” I read an article about what a guy’s car says about him. But the article didn’t mention what it says if he doesn’t even own a car!” That was the last I saw her. Materialistic b @#$$%, I thought. Another woman asked if we could sleep on the boat. I said: “only if we’re very, very tired”. Sometimes, it actually happened; but The “Pepper Pot” didn’t owe my a dime.
I moored her about 30 feet off shore on a home made mooring, two cinder-blocks lashed to together tied to two small anchors. It held, for the most part, except in very heavy seas and wind. But the winds were mostly from the southwest which meant that if she did break free off the mooring, she would drift back onto the beach, but not always upright.
In the early days, I would fantasize about her when I was off island–maybe I would add flags to her stays, or paint the bottom red, or get an outboard engine. A friend gave me an old one that I tried but hated it. It was noisy and spewed oil into the water so I gave it back; and said to myself:” I’m going green, no outboards for me”. The paddle was my auxiliary engine; and I tied empty plastic laundry ( My girlfriend at the time was worried. She asked if I didn’t like the detergent she was using. I had to reassure her that these bottles were not for doing the laundry) detergent bottles, cut at the top, to the base of the mast. I used them for bailing. I told people that my boat was self-bailing, I bailed it myself. I identified with my aging sailboat. And I was in it for the long haul, determined if need be, ” To Go Down with the Ship”. But now that she’s gone, I’ve been thinking about my next adventure. There’s still time left for the “Pepper Pot II”!
