(Dear Readers: In the Jan. 22 Newsleader, I, Dennis Dalman, wrote a column about neighbors and me doing dumb things and challenged readers to send in stories about their dumber moments. One reader, a St. Joseph resident, responded with the following essay, but he begged me not to use his name because, as he put it, “No need to have the family name tarnished by stupidity.” Gotta love it. Usually, the Newsleader will not publish anonymous submissions, but the man did include his name, we emailed back and forth, and in this case I’m going to make an exception so as to spare the poor guy’s family from perpetual tarnishment.)
During my sophomore year in college, I started dating a young woman. I was looking forward to seeing her at a gathering of friends for a belated Fourth of July party at a lake cabin owned by a friend’s family.
After the first night of bonfires and beers, I was the first one up, ready to hit the lake so I could impress my new girlfriend with my sailing ability. ( I was actually a novice sailor but confident in my abilities as I had sailed Mille Lacs several times with the owner of the boat ).
I hooked up the sailboat and readied a cooler for an early afternoon of sailing on what promised to be an idyllic summer day.
My friend and I agreed to raise the mast on the boat at the cabin rather than at the lake.
I was driving, pulling the boat. My friend sat in the backseat, my girlfriend was in the passenger seat. I drove carefully, not wanting to jar the trailer too much as the boat wasn’t tied down. I passed carefully around several potholes and thought we were making good progress. Until . . .
KA-WUMP!! I stopped the car and we all got out to look things over and for the life of us, we couldn’t figure out what caused the noise.
Back in the car, on our way, smoothly down the road . . .
KA-WUMP!! This time, I was on high alert and watching the rear-view mirror. What I saw took a few seconds to register. It was white and big and shouldn’t have been there. It must be something that fell out of the sky!
It was, it dawned on me, the bottom of the sailboat . . .
After my heart started beating again, I got out of the car to see that boat resting gently in the middle of a gravel road.
We (my friend and I) scratched our heads for a bit trying to figure out what had happened. Here was the car and trailer; there was the sailboat. No clue as to how the boat came off. Until my girlfriend pointed skyward at the power line that crossed the road. She’d seen it unfold but sat demurely, certain we had done this before and all would be fine.
Turns out, power lines are not designed for roadway clearances for a sailboat on a trailer with its mast raised.
After crawling out of the hole I had dug for myself in my humiliation, I helped rouse some friends still sleeping off the beers from the night before and with three on a side we easily hoisted the boat to its proper place on the trailer.
We arrived at the boat ramp and launched without further complications. I’m happy to say that day’s sailing was the most memorable and perfect day of sailing I have ever had. A gentle breeze, sun that sparkled on the waves and a pretty girlfriend sitting across from me. A perfect day (as good as the day, so many years later, that same girlfriend – my wife – and our girls took their first sailboat ride in the waters of the Apostle Islands under the watchful eye of the captain – me, manning the helm).
Somehow I can’t recall if we lowered the mast for the remainder of the trip to the boat ramp. But if you ever want to go sailing on a a lake, do remember to raise the mast AFTER you pass under any power lines.
