Onto the River

Today a crane pulled up to my cradle, complete with a couple of slings, and my excitement built. This cradle had been my prison for over four years and I longed to be free.

Two men carefully tied the slings around my hull on either side of my keel and hoisted me out of the cradle to swing gently in the breeze. The crane then drove gently down the hill. On my port side was the historic Royal Kennebecassis Yacht Club (RKYC) building with its tower soaring even higher than the tallest mast. To my starboard side, resting on their berths, were a host of sailing boats and motor cruisers of all sizes and shapes. Despite me feeling very small among these boats, I felt that once my mast was raised I would be made to feel welcome.

The crane gradually lowered me onto the river, and I could feel all the people around me hold their breath. If I sank now, I wouldn't be the first, or no doubt be the last. However, everything went well and I bobbed up and down, feeling the caress of the water.

Next, a follically challenged fellow (I am a polite boat) with a strange accent hopped ponderously aboard. He grabbed the tiller, and with the help of a small motor boat, I was slowly towed out towards my new mooring.

"A" Dock would be my new home among a menagerie of the smaller vessels at RKYC. My nearest neighbours are a pontoon boat and a sailboat of similar size and vintage to me. I hope we can be friends! On the other side of "A" Dock are the larger boats, a mixture of sailing yachts and large expensive motor cruisers. These boats don't seem to speak to us much, but generally face towards other large sailboats moored on "B" Dock.


After a brief period, so that I could settle in, the follically challenged fellow (I will call him "first mate") and a lady with a similar strange accent (I will call her "crew") came back with the obvious intention of raising my mast. This was something I was particularly looking forward to. Although short, my mast is perfectly formed and once raised, my potency would be returned.


I tried to keep as steady as possible in the water, but I have to admit that there were some mild profanities from the first mate, something I do not approve of. Anyway, after much huffing and puffing, the mast found the hole in my cuddy and slotted into place.

One thing I didn't tell the first mate and crew was that I was missing a few pins, so the job of completing my standing rigging would have to wait for another day. Despite this, I cannot begin to explain how happy I am to be back in the water, my mast raised, and feeling, once again, like a sailboat.