Published February, 2004
By D.Z. Ray
For Points East
There are no atheists in foxholes, but how about in rogue waves? God is said to spend his or her summers in Maine. Really. What follows is our testimony to the truth in these statements.
Here we were in the early summer of '02, contemplating an overnight cruise to Booth Bay, a favorite short trip for Casco Bayers. As we approached Eagle Island, we checked in routinely with Igor of NOAA. (You know Igor, the simulated voice providing simulated weather forecasts.) The news was good: The next day would bring 1 to 3-footers and fair winds. So off we went aboard COM.NET, our 40ish-foot stinkpotter.
We cruised in a gentle sea swell and spent a fun evening in Booth Bay. It sounded like the wind blew all night but, hey, Igor said it would be OK.
Sunday a.m. we left the inner harbor bound for our mooring at the Goslings and a champagne brunch. Igor had not changed his tune. As we headed out and approached the Cuckolds, the seas went from 2 to 4 to 6 feet and were obviously not done yet. I suggested we turn around but was told, "I have to work tomorrow!"
Then, out of the corner of my left eye, I saw God on a surfboard — hanging 10, knees bent, flowing white robe, crown of thorns on backward, about to cross our bow. The seas, aware that the almighty was out playing and wanting to be accommodative, stood way, WAY up for him.
We went over that rogue wave and buried the bow up to the windshield. COM.NET, being the boat it is, popped right up. In the next instant I was greeted with various sounds — furniture crashing around in the salon, my wife-as-owner's voice pleading for mercy; my voice-as-captain engaging in vulgar slang and the ocean shouting its approval.
We turned around quickly and were shot into the harbor by the pursuing whitecaps. We returned to the calm of the mooring fields and counted fingers, toes, each other, checked inner feelings, and took care of the furniture.
After a while we cruised the inner passage to Bath. The rising tide was almost high, making for a pleasant and relaxing passage. We spent some time on a mooring thinking about what to do next. Eventually, we cruised down the Kennebec, looking to enter the ocean behind Seguin Island.
Bad idea! The tide was now ebbing generously, and before we could respond we were swept into the standing waves that live at the river's mouth. As these 8-footers plus began to have their way with us, I shouted: "God, where are you when I need you?"
There was a whispered answer: "It's too rough".
We fought our way around Cape Small and took another inside passage, this time up eastern Casco Bay. Fingers and toes were recounted, anxieties calmed, furniture picked up. One resolution emerged: henceforth, "work" would be accorded the status of a four-letter word and never, never again cloud our navigational judgment.
