A couple days ago, the Captain and I were making our way
down to one of the beaches when we stumbled upon a rusty, old diesel engine
that had been abandoned amongst the weeds. Apparently the universe is not
without a sense of humor. The Captain remarked, “I bet it runs better than
ours.” Because the Captain is not without a sense of irony.
But thanks to Richard, our mechanic from Santa Rosa, we can
tell the universe to go take a hike. As promised, he returned with our
transmission—new rings, new seals, new caps, new collars—and he and the Captain
got it reinstalled. A few hours later and the gears were working, the shaft was
spinning, and nothing was overheating. We might just make it out of here yet.
As we were saying our goodbyes and making small talk,
Richard asked where we were headed next and we replied, “Santa Cruz. Want to
come with us?” (After all, a mechanic might be a handy crew member when your 33-year
old engine keeps falling apart.) For whatever reason, he declined. But he did
offer to drive down to Santa Cruz should something go horribly wrong. He was
joking, of course. But I’m hoping he didn’t give the universe any ideas.
With some confidence that the engine was ready to resume the
journey (notice I didn’t say “total”—after this many times to the rodeo, you
start having a lot more respect for the bull), we prepared for a 9:00 am Sunday
departure. The forecast called for a high of 74, waves at 3-5 feet, and winds at
6 knots. Aside from some patchy morning fog, great conditions for a 7-hour
journey. While the Deck Boss and I did the last of the stowing, the Captain turned
over the engine, checked the transmission, and tested the gears. We then
unplugged from shore power and prepared for departure. I went down below to
gather life jackets and as I was coming back up, something seemed…off. Head
count. Captain? Check. Deck Boss? Check. Otter? Check. Edgrrr? Edgrrr? Edgrrr?
The damn cat had gone MIA.
Now it’s no secret that Edgrrr is not a big fan of the
engine. It’s loud, it rumbles, and as of late it is a harbinger of the bumpy
ride to come. When the engine is turned on, he immediately heads for one of his
seven hidey-holes on the boat. Only today, his seven hidey-holes were empty. We
checked everywhere. We looked in lockers, cabinets, closets, drawers, and
berths; checked under pillows and behind books. We even checked the engine room
because yes, he might resort to reverse psychology. When a search of the
topsides came up empty, I knew there was only one place he could be…Brother
Buzz, the floating petri dish next door.
In the past week, we had found him a couple of times on the
B-Buzz. In those instances, we called and he came right on out. Today, he was
playing possum. Hoping I still had potency left on my last tetanus shot, I
ventured aboard and poked around. It was layers upon layers of junk holding up
junk—buckets, nets, tools, rope, small appliances, planks, beer bottles, hunks
of metal—all corroded together in rot. There were holes in the deck, soft spots
on the planking, and windows broken out—all convenient openings for a cat (or
any other critter for that matter) to get down below. Wherever he was hiding,
he was not coming out and there was no going in after him. As we are unfamiliar
with Monterey Bay, we had set a departure window of between 9:00 and 10:00 so
that we could reach Santa Cruz while there was still plenty of daylight. At
9:50 we conceded defeat, shut off the engine, and prepared for one more day at
dock. The little bastard crept out from under a rotten deck plank at 10:05.
I went up to the harbor office to pay for another night and
ran into Bo, the Harbor Patrol Agent who helped push us in to “H” dock
the first night we arrived. We got to talking—about transmissions, boats, life
plans, and finding yourself stuck in places that you're kind of glad you did. She asked when we were
leaving, and I mentioned that we had hoped to leave that morning but that the
cat had other plans. She laughed, “A cat?! You also have a cat? Three people, a
dog, and a cat?! You’re like a circus!” Bo, you have no idea.
Pictured: A**hole
Pictured: Where Edgrrr may find himself the next time he sabotages a departure
Loas (laugh our a** off) don't you just love those sweet creatures!! As I was reading your blog out loud, our cat Emily is on the ladder patiently waiting to go out to lay in the sun -- though she did have a cheshire cat grin when she stepped outside -- I am guessing she is figuring if Edgr can check out neighboring boats so can she. Seems to me Edgr is risking a tuna snack pulling those shenanigans and may end up with "time out" today until you set sail. Enjoy your day and the sunshine.
ReplyDeleteHello, I am the son of the guy who owns the Brother Buzz.
ReplyDeleteI found your colorful and sometimes inaccurate descriptions of Buzz to be very agitating. While it certainly doesn't win beauty contests and has a great deal of rusting and corroding items on deck (the ocean does that you know), there is no broken glass or sharp objects sticking out for you to get impaled on as you alluded to. I WISH sealions were scared of it so they would not try to steal salmon as we try to reel them in. The boat is a platform that we fish upon. Brother Buzz isn't a posh sailboat or yacht, its a tough fishing platform that has transported its passengers to and from fishing spots safely and reliably since before me, my father, and probably even before you were born. It continues to do so as well.
Just remember as you post your comments on the web, the people that you visit aren't so backwards and ignorant enough to not use the web themselves. With these posts you basically showed the world that the crew of the Raven have no regard for the property of others and have a high-handed and elitist attitude where ever they go. Rather than being thankful you made it back to shore when your vessel failed, you showed yourselves to be condescending sour grapes towards the other vessels. We have had visitors in the past who appreciated the history and utilitarian nature of the Brother Buzz and vessels like it.
In your case, you let your cat lose aboard it, free to defecate and get its hair everywhere (animal hair is murder on bilge pumps by the way). With great artistic license you embellished the state of disrepair Buzz was in and posted it on a blog. To top it off you not only went aboard without permission, but you also bragged about it as if it were nothing.
When traveling from port to port common sense dictates that you would want to make as many friends as possible. Running around disrespecting people is definitely not the way to do that. I hope that your travels will teach you to drop your sense of entitlement and gain a more enlightened outlook on the world around you.
Hello Francis,
DeleteThank you for your comments. Your point is taken, and I am sorry that you take umbrage with my description of the Brother Buzz. If I may though, I’d like to say a few words (in two parts) in regards to my brief, albeit eventful, encounter with your boat.
The people we met on the docks and in the office did allude to the Brother Buzz’ long history, but many also said that the boat was—by all accounts and purposes—abandoned. And had been for some time. And seeing the condition of the boat and its myriad contents in, on, and around it, made me think they were right. Perhaps it was a bad assumption on my part that “abandoned” also meant “forgotten” and therefore I guess I should apologize for boarding your boat without permission to retrieve my cat, but under the circumstances there was no one to ask permission of aside from the gull that has turned your dinghy into a vacation home. But in Edgrrr’s defense, he was not “let loose”. He is, however, a “door dasher” and the two times he did make a beeline for the Buzz he was apprehended mid-jump to the rail so his paws did not even touch the deck. On the day in question that he did take refuge on your boat, he was onboard a total of maybe 15-20 minutes. And since the cat will not poop unless he’s standing upright with his front paws on the top of the box and his back paws firmly entrenched in two inches of litter, I don’t think he graced your deck with his doo-doo. (BTW: the guys in the office referred to your boat as “Cat Heaven” so you may want to look into that. I hear that fur is murder on the bilge pumps.)
Too be continued (because I don't know the meaning of "a few words".
Now I’m also not naïve to think that I’m the only one who knows how the web works. (Please. In this day and age, fetuses are uploading their own selfies to Facebook while still in the womb.) I know that whatever goes on the Internet is there for all to see, and that anybody can read the blog and be amused, entertained, bored, confused, or offended—possibly all at the same time. (Exhibit A: the entire city of Campbell River, British Columbia.) I wrote it; I take responsibility for it.
DeleteBut the fact of the matter is that I’m not writing a cruising guide, copy for a brochure, or a travelogue to please the masses. I’m writing a blog so that we can share our adventures with friends, family, and whoever else wants to come along for the ride. It’s an account of our journey as seen through my eyes and told in my voice. And my voice—my humor, if you will—is self-deprecating, sometimes flippant, occasionally introspective, and extremely tongue-in-cheek.
Any ruminations on the condition of the Brother Buzz were just my observations. And perhaps in hindsight I should have “changed the name to protect the innocent” to spare any feelings, but I don’t believe I parlayed that oversight into a full-scale attack on the good people of Half Moon Bay. If I inadvertently did, they can join up with the folks from Campbell River. However it is BYOP (Bring your own pitchfork). You, however, got a little personal. Now I’ve been called a lot of things before: affable, silly, droll, and self-effacing to name a few. I’ve even been called a smart ass on more than one occasion. But I’ve never been called an elitist. (Not even quite sure what that is although I am willing to learn. If it pays well enough, maybe we can afford a galley stove that has a setting other than “scorch”.) But I guess my point is this…
You perceive me to be high-handed, disrespectful, and elitist (also condescending, entitled, lacking in common sense, a braggart, and something about sour grapes if I remember correctly) and I’m cool with that. Because people who know me, know better. Conversely, my perception of the Brother Buzz was that, in its current state, it looked like a set piece for Sanford & Son. And I would hope that people who know the Buzz better than I would take that with a grain of salt.
I’d like to close by saying that contrary to what you might think, we have met many wonderful people on our journey, many of whom we keep in contact. Had you and I met, we may have perceived things differently—you of me, and me of the Brother Buzz. So should you find yourself in San Diego in the next couple of months, please feel free to visit. You can also poke some fun at Raven if it will make you feel better. She can take it.
Good Voyages!
Tally
First Mate, Elitist-in-Training
I, too, have seen the Brother Buzz. In my opinion, no doubt also elitist, Tally Armand was very gracious in her description of the condition of the, once tough - but now derelict - Navy launch.
ReplyDeleteThis comment thread brings only one thing to mind:
Sgt. Hulka to "Psycho".... "Lighten up, Francis." Stripes, 1981