There was a sound as I throttled up — not the banshee whine of a stripped propeller or the clatter of a twisted prop — this was the sweet, smooth sound of a Phoenix rising. The Little Dipper is back.
Thank you to all who expressed concern over the fate of our boat after the little “incident” described in this week’s essay “The Agony & The Ecstasy.”
You will be relieved to know that the Little Dipper" is back on the water and running fine after some kind help from friends and a Master’s level course from my new pal at the Prop Shop.
Repairs are, of course, a part of boating. There is that old adage that a boat is just a hole in the water where you pour your money. And another that says that the two best days in a boater’s life are the day they buy the boat and the day they sell it.
But I don’t subscribe to those cynical attitudes. Everything worth doing costs something — time, energy, money. That is not the point really. To me, the point is doing what you love given the short time you’ve been allotted here on this earth. Yes, the repairs to the Little Dipper were not cheap, but what price would you put on a night under the northern lights like I experienced last Friday? What price would you put on hitting the throttle in water so calm even your breath would stir its surface, coming up on plane, and moving off into the island world of a morning just now opening its eyes on the horizon?
Dollar signs are a poor measure of a moment. The best moments are measured in ways much more difficult to define and much, much more important.
Thank you for supporting “The Little Dipper” blog. See you next week from somewhere in the Islands,