We gathered last week for the interment of a dream.
Here’s the story:
Some years ago housemate Daniel and I started kicking around the idea of jointly buying a 6-foot tinny for puttering around the local waterways. The Manning Valley has some 150 kilometres of river, and we felt we should be spending the occasional Sunday exploring them. However, word got out and somehow the 6-foot tinny became a 16-foot demon with a 140 hp motor, co-owned by ten of us.
We called ourselves The Boat Club. Membership was no small commitment. We organised insurance, we fixed up the rusted trailer, we purchased a big tarp and hosing-down equipment. We got boat licenses, and learned the rules of the waterways. You know those mysterious sign posts you see on the rivers? Black, white, yellow, red, green symbols; arrows, circles and triangles?—We learned how to interpret them all.
We learned how to do the 101 actions required to prepare for launch and the 112 actions required for retrieval and return. We concreted in a robust winch. We created a 3-page checklist so that we wouldn’t forget to put in the bung plug, check the spare fuel, attach the trailer’s safety chain—or succumb to any of the lurking dangers that could have us in serious trouble. For a group who were mostly non-mariners, each outing was a major adventure—before we even hit the water.
We developed skill at trimming the motor and getting the boat to plane, and practiced endlessly at docking. We learned how to line the boat up with the trailer and retrieve it—though on a windy day with a strong current it might take a half dozen nerve-wracking attempts to achieve lift-out. We spent many dollars in petrol, repairs and routine maintenance. You know the old expression? “A boat is a hole in the water into which you pour money”. We began to have direct evidence of that.
So in the end, we didn’t use the boat as successfully as we’d hoped. Over the four years we’ve owned it, we may have had it out only a handful of times each year. We never got to the point where it was a simple process. Our dream of dropping the boat in the water, flying across the waves with the wind in our hair, and then whistling back into dry dock never quite materialised.
You’ll be getting a picture of the dark side of owning a speed boat, and nodding in sympathy about our decision to sell it (although I hope I haven’t put you off making an offer). But let me assure you, there were many good times. Managing the launch wasn’t really something a couple could do, so anytime the boat went out, it was a social occasion. Often the destination was a café or pub in Taree, Wingham or Harrington. Sometimes there were picnics. Many an hour was whiled away under the trees at the Art House Café in Ghinni Ghinni Creek. There were times we dawdled, times we fought fierce whitecaps, times we just revelled in the exhilaration of a high-speed water race across the water. Grandchildren bounced behind on tubes. We got to know quite a stretch of the amazing 150 kilometres of Manning Valley waterway.
I also loved the learning experience. It was exciting to get my head around this alien new machine in its alien environment. I’m more confident on the water now, and more adept at separating the real dangers from the imaginary.
Perhaps best of all, our friendships deepened. We’ve had fun together on the boat, fun having meals and meetings together, fun on the working bees, fun on our voyages. It was smart to buy and support the boat as a consortium. We all got to scratch an itch without spending an enormous amount of money.
I can say I’ve owned a 140 hp speedboat and it was a fine experience.
And of course there’s a bright future in store.
The thing is, we bought the boat because we all love the water. So we won’t be leaving the waterways. Rick and I have had a Hobie-drive kayak for several years, and have an undiminished enjoyment of those regular outings. Ken and Sal bought a Hobie themselves recently, and Eve and Daniel are planning to do the same. Kerry and Gordon own two canoes and live right on the river. Stella and Ian are boat-lovers from forever, with riverfront to enjoy. So the dismantled boat club will build on its experience and morph into something new.