The Great Voyage--Part One

Let's go back in time, to marvel that it sure seems a lot longer than a year (and not even that) that I've had my boat.  So, to late September James and I went to Frenchtown Pond to fiddle about.  Wind was good but one of the rudder pins got loose and so we had to put back to port and call it good.  The intent, the next day, was to go to Finley Point State Park on the FIathead and see what would happen up there.  The rudder was repaired before setting out, of course.

So the next day, things are loaded up and off we go.  It's a beautiful indian summer day and in reasonable order we make it up to Finley Point.  While about to take the boat off the carp top, it came to notice that the leeboard was nowhere to be found.  What?  How can one mislay a leeboard--especially off a Teal (which is a 15" x 4 foot chunk of plywood)?


So, I indulge in the captains first prerogorative:  Blame the crew!  Suffice it to say, the crew denied any responsibility for the failure of items to be recovered (leeboard being left on the lawn where we loaded the boat at Frenchtown Pond.

This turned into a round and round debate and a question of what responsibilities does the crew have.  Of course the buck stops with the captain but if you intend to be on a vessel, I would say you should do whatever you can to ease the journey.   Rather like arguing angels on the head of a pin.

Some degree of hard feelings were running along, and since we were 60 miles from Missoula, there wasn't much to be done.   "Well, we could go out anyways", said James.   Ummmm, yea we could.  The lake was fairly calm and the wind was from the north at 5 mph at best.  At least we could see what happens, since we are here, and we have oars.  "Okay, we can try that," I said "What could go wrong?"

With that we set up the rig, loaded ourselves, lunch and a tool kit (duct tape and bailing wire, among other things), and finally rowed out of the marina and out into the lake.

Looking north from Polson Bay, past Finley Point (the Narrows) and into the main portion of Flathead Lake (look Ma! No Horizon!).  Finley Point is to the right, Little Bull Island at center, an unnamed isle next to it and Big Bull at the left.  Weather conditions this day are excellent.  The Flathead is a nifty inland sea.

The sail was run up and we seemed to make good progress from shore.  Winds were from the north at maybe 5 mph.  With two grown men in a Bolger Teal (load of probably 450 lbs) well, we weren't making great time, not at all.  "You know--if we jury rigged a leeboard, we might make better time..........."

Not sure whose idea this was, but it seemed like a good idea--at the time.  Well, there was a clamp, bungee straps and rope to be had... why not?  The work began in earnest.

Jury rig complete.   Yes, a real leeboard would be much more logical.

Somewhere toward the end of fiddling and getting this oar set up as a leeboard, I looked about and asked:
"Where's the other oar?"   Somewhere, in whatever we were doing, the other oar had jumped ship and drifted lazily off behind us--never to be found.  Hope somebody found it on the shore and got some use out of it.   The only saving grace was that it was the oar with a knot in it--but the prospect of having to make another oar was not helping my cheerfulness index--no, not really.  Good thing James knows lots of martial arts stuff and that it's really impractical to have physical combat in a 12 foot boat, well, I think it is anyway.  Suffice it to say, we got along well enough to continue--after all, where are ya going to go?

We were hoping we could tack and get towards Little Bull Island--the nearest one to Finley Point State Park.  Well a Teal with two guys in it is really a pig for what we wanted to do.  As we kept going, the wind finally dropped out with us roughly south-southeast of Big Bull.  We could make out the dock and boats belonging to the UM Biological station there.  We however, were a good quarter mile offshore, and not getting one foot closer to either island, as the wind seemed to desert us.

Still, it was a pretty day.

Looking southeast into Polson Bay.  The Mission Mountains march off in the haze.  Polson would be six miles distant on the right side of the photo.  By this point, we were making out way back.

We sat becalmed out in the middle, off of Big Bull for what seemed a while, but probably wasn't more than 20 minutes.  James, being one who reads lots and lots of nautical books and such, threw some bread crumbs on the water and lo! we were moving--albeit slowly.  He then made up a chip log to watch our pace, which wasn't blistering at all.  Part of the problem was that the jury rigged oar would turn enough to be a drag and keep us from moving much of anywhere.  Some adjustments later, we were on our way---slowly.

We finally did make our way back to shore and got back to Missoula.  I was able to retrieve my errant leeboard from the Fish Wildlife and Parks office, who informed me that some kids were using it as a skateboard ramp!  Well, all's well that ends well, and any voyage that brings you back to dry land is a good one!