I really can't believe I did that. Really, I can't.

It didn't rain yesterday. Temps in the "high" forties. Yesterday was supposed to usher in a few more weeks of an extended sailing season. Yeah. Things were lookin' good. I had Lady Bug home from storage, cleaned out from the Movable Messabout finale duties she performed way back in September, and ready to launch.

There's this delightful little lake just to the south of us, with a delightful little mom & pop fishing resort on it. Albeit, both mom and pop are the ages of my own kids. Anyhow, they allowed me to bring a succession of boats through their place and get them ready for further adventures back last spring. Actually, some of that "spring" outfitting was done with ice on the dock and snow on the beach. The lake has been there since the last ice age went north. One of those puddles scooped out and then shaped and filled in further over the eons, by a stream. Eloika is pretty shallow, and as the summer progresses, weeds grow all the way to the surface. And, that's when I have to go looking for deeper water. So, the height of summer finds my fleet elsewhere. But spring and fall are quite, as I say, delightful.

Earlier this summer our area was assaulted by a pair of wind storms that would do an Oklahoma twister proud. The main paths were almost identical. Over, about a 100 mile swath, we had trees, and houses, and most anything else that provides wind resistance pretty well pummeled. Not, apparently, the storm of the century. But, the storm of several centuries.

Some of the trees felled by these storms were already getting big when Lewis and Clark walked and paddled through here! Huge Ponderosa in the 250-300 year old range! Somehow, Paul Bunyan missed some.

Jerry's Landing, on Eloika Lake, was at the center of the onslaught. Perhaps, the "freight train" gathered even more energy coming across the lake. Dunno. But they, their neighbors, and folks on down wind simply got hammered.

These enormous trees were twisted off, up rooted, and simply snapped like giant match sticks and thrown on to roofs, cars, and off into the woods, to tear more trees up. The twisted stump over Big Ole and Lady Bug, shown here, was the smallest, and is all that remains of a clump of 3 or 4 really big trees. One of them was the tallest tree then still standing in the county.

Something on the order of 66 trees were ripped out of the ground on this 3 acre plot, alone. That's a lot of logs to the mill. This is the firewood pile that remains.

Some of these "left-overs" are nearly 4 feet across.

Anyhow, I had a personal sense of loss. And a bit of guilt. Our own trees all survived. Some of them are in the 100 year old neighborhood. Anyhow, I was there to rent a slip and keep my boat in the water, until it starts getting a bit solid on the top, anyway.

With that sobering intro, I went ahead and got Lady Bug ready to launch. Things went well. I seemed to remember where everything was supposed to go. The boat went into the water just fine, the rig went up just fine, the sails bent on and were ready in short order. Granted, the water gets a bit lower in the fall. But, the weeds were way, way less than when I fled for deeper waters back in June.

What a grand day to go sailing! And, what a great Indian Summer adventure, I had planned. Another month of sailing, at least!

Off I went. Tacking and gibing my way all over the lake. I found a couple ancient cup 'a noodles cups, and fired up the swing stove. Not another boat on the lake. If it wasn't for the chain saws still attacking downed tree trunks, and hammers securing broken roofs and walls against the coming snow; it would have been almost silent out there.

After a few hours underway, I decided to circle a small island at the far end of the lake. That island "hadn't been there," last spring when the water was higher. I was sort of wondering about the bottom configuration, and that sort of thing. But, the muddy composition back at the end of the launch ramp had me feeling pretty smug. If we grounded, it aughta' be with a gentle squish. Nothing to worry about.

Talk about famous last thoughts.

WHAM!! Lady Bug went from about 3 knots to zero in one heart breaking instant. The shudder was pretty dramatic. But the sound of her keel hitting ROCKS, was even more disturbing. Then, the grinding started. We were not only aground, but we were apparently quite firmly mounted on the back of some sort of granite sea monster. Both keel and rudder were taking the brunt of my navigational hubris. I left the sails up, and tried to careen us off. Stuck. Solid.

I had to break the rudder hold-down with a pair of vice grips and pry it off with the first wrench I could dig out of the tool box. Rudder trailing like a broken wing, I managed to start us shudder-bumping around in a sort of twirl. About all I managed to change was the part of the keel that was taking the worst of the drubbing from that granite sea monster, who sleeps in a bed of bottom mud about two feet below the surface, come fall. I had absolutely no idea he was there. Honest, Lady Bug.

Of course, I hadn't brought a change of clothes. It's gonna' be November next week. The idea of going over the side in waist deep water, with nothing to put on later, was kinda' daunting. Meanwhile, the keel continued to sound like it was simply splitting apart. No rudder. Boat bumping, twirling, and grinding. About the only card still in the deck was to sally ship. So, I hung my aging frame over the water, hanging from the lee shrouds, and finally got her off. Spinning down wind with sail still set. The next underwater monster someplace close by. No rudder. Kind of a sad state of affairs, really.

I really could almost "see" that keel splayed open. The encapsulated ballast exposed. Lady Bug was justifiably cross with me.

What had been one of those delightful moments we sailors search for, and cherish when we find, had been shattered just like the thousands of old growth pine trees no longer standing in the surrounding hills. Time to hyakko for the trailer! At least the motor had been tilted up when I did all that banging and crashing with the rudder.

Next problem.

There is plenty of water right at the launch ramp. But. In my haste to get the boat out of the water, and to stop the flooding that surely must be progressing; I sort of missed the deep water.

Yep. Now, Lady Bug was firmly stuck. Again. This time in the primordial ooze that sponsors such luxuriant weed growth when the water gets warm.

When simply winching her by a hawser tied to the bow eye, yielded a broken roller arm on the trailer; I yielded to more desperate tactics. Can't believe I did that.

I towed the boat over the mud bank with the line tied to the trailer, by driving the van up the ramp. Talk about a hillbilly solution.

Let's see. Current total. Busted rudder. Probably major damage to the keel. Busted ¼" steel plate that holds a significant part of the trailer assembly. Major strain to the bow eye, as the boat was dragged bodily over a mud bank. And, we're still not on the trailer.

Fortunately, my years of engineering a single-handed launch and recovery system and a stout two-speed winch finally prevailed. I don't think sanity, or reason, was much in evidence. The sort of behavior normally associated with a bunch of guys with a case of beer, and a metal flake bass boat perhaps. At least, there was almost nobody watching. Thank God for small favors.

Now, instead of sailing well into winter. Lady Bug will need keel repairs (albeit much less extensive than I imagined) and a further rudder modification to allow for releasing that big foil when it's supporting the weight of the boat. And, the weight of the hapless skipper, too, I suppose. No certainty I won't pull this stunt someplace, some where, again.

Anyhow. We're back on the trailer, and back home. Now. It could have been a lot worse.

I just can't believe I did that.

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