It is February and time to visit Charlotte’s mother in Sumter, South Carolina. I had a feeling — snow and freezing ice — that we should leave early, and so we did. Sunday, after hustling to pack a day early, we drove 150 miles south to Champaign-Urbana and pulled in at 7pm. The cold and freezing rain began as we unloaded the car.
In the morning, we waited until 10:00 AM for the temperature to reach 32 degrees before leaving. The next couple of days had us rushing 800 miles to stay in front of the ice storm. The seven hour drive from Nashville, TN to St. Simons Island in Georgia was through torrential rain and forty mph winds. At one point, the radio blared with tornado warnings. In the final stretch, I increased speed to over 80 mph to outrun the menacing black squall in the rearview mirror.
The interstate was obscured in rain, fog, and spray from the huge trucks that we shared the road with for most of the 2th and 3rd day. In a moment of inspiration, I fitted our Honda Accord Coupe with snow tires and they performed flawlessly. At least it was only blinding rain, and not snow and ice. The decision to leave early was prescient.
This is not a compelling story. Living where we live, we have all driven through similar conditions, so why am I bothering to tell you? Well, because it occurs to me that if this happened while piloting Carrie Rose, our 32’ Nordic Tug, it would be one hell of a story. Water increases the dramatic value of an experience. Even calm uneventful passages have drama.
I am not sure if a boat has inherently more risk associated with it than a car, or if I am just more attuned to possible danger when on the water. A boat has a few more dimensions to work with: depth, current, waves, and though wind and fog and storms can affect a cars safety, at least a car can pull over and stop. Granted, a boat can drop an anchor but this is usually not an option. A boat’s voyage needs to be completed.
I have a friend who took his boat (and his wife) to Lake Superior, a cruise not to be taken lightly. On their way east out of the lake, despite all precautions, they were caught in an unexpected storm. As the following seas built, he knew that the destination required transiting a low bridge into the harbor of refuge. He contacted the bridge tender knowing he had only one chance to approach the bridge. These were not conditions to linger in. His forethought paid off and the bridge operator had the bridge open.
I have been in my share of large following waves, but it is hard to image how his boat surfed passed the bridge on the backs of the gigantic Lake Superior waves. When we reminisce about our unique experiences on the Great Lakes and beyond, it is obvious that that day on the water left him forever changed.
His telling of the tale altered my attention to detail. I study the weather, the route, and the boat's condition with increased vigor as I plan the day's cruising agenda. And this vigor has transferred to driving. I am more willing to get off the road prematurely, or not to begin if conditions are unfavorable.
But still, a day on the water is more likely to inspire prose than a day on a turnpike or a winding country road, even in the rain and the snow, and for that matter even in February!
February 2019
Sumter, SC
