follow up

follow up

the Real Keel Deal

Last week we ran a keel shot for our Caption Contest that was hard to believe. Here the owner of said keel (and boat) weighs in. Oh and we’ll announce the winners of the contest soon – maybe tomorrow…

I sailed the beast 3-5 times a week in the Atlantic off Wrightsville Beach, NC for about three years before the bottom started to fall out, no pathetic pun intended.   She sure was a speed demon the first year or so.  Then the trouble started.  Apparently, one is supposed to extract the boat and go through the same horrifying hell ordeal of a bottom job every couple of years.  Problem is, I’d rather sleep on a urine soaked pillow than crawl under that beast again.  The last time I messed with that iron keel, I almost threw myself over my third floor condo railing, this after breathing in enough iron dust to render all reason optional.  Those nurse masks only do so much.  Sailing is so much more rewarding, even if it started to require a bottom scrub every 24 hours before departure.

Anyway, this is what five years will do to you if moored in one of the tributaries feeding into the ICWW.    It got so bad, I was scared to get near that beast for fear of being swallowed up by what looked like elongated, radiation impacted bull testicles.  The white ones didnt bother me as much as the purple samples, which did not look of this solar system. 

You should have seen the crowd at the local ramp by the drawbridge when ole abstrait emerged.   There was a plethora of ooohs and aaahs and more than a few "Holy F***, what in the hell is THAT?"   Even the jaded fishermen were taken aback.  A crowd of 30 lost interest after the smell became too hard to take from less than 50 yards.   I saw one tike start crying after Daddy got too close.  The kid looked as if he had seen his video game come to life.

She now sits in my friend’s back yard, awaiting the next round after a zero tip pressure washing combined with a flat shovel did its duty.   Maybe I should think twice about handling that POR-15 without a space suit…

kelly holsten
wrightsville beach, nc