September 2007

Dear Friends,

I was cleaning out my office and going through some papers when I found a little story I wrote a long time ago. A while back, someone asked me how I got interested in boats and I thought about it and later on, I wrote it down.

I can pinpoint the event that started what would draw me to the sea, before I ever sailed on one. As a child, we had a creek behind our house, “Cool Creek.” It was a swimming hole and we built dams and as kids, it was OUR place. It was winter in late 1960s and we were living in the Causey House back in Indiana. From the back porch down the hill lived a crazy farmer and I mean crazy. He used to chase us around with his tractor and throw pitch forks at us if he caught us on his land. He was the only thing between us kids and the creek.

I was around 11 years old at the time. It was winter and a very cold one. John, my little brother, and I sat one Saturday watching an all-day buccaneer movie marathon. I think it was every one ever made. By early afternoon, we were stir crazy. We grabbed out coats and makeshift swords and out the door we went, headed down to the creek. It was frozen over. Skating in our shoes and swinging our wooden swords, we had a good time. As we played, John saw something in the ice so we slid that way. What we found was our “ship” frozen in the ice and dirt. It was ours for the taking and she was six feet or so long and made of galvanized steel. It was really a watering trough for cattle that belonged to the farmer. John and I made a pact to dig her free of ice, no matter what it took. After school every day, we would dig a little and then little more. We swore an oath to tell no one of our ship. We did not want the other kids to find her and steal her.

One day, she broke free and we dragged our prize into the woods. It was still too cold to take her out. Besides, we needed a plan and even more desperately, paddles. Spring thaw came and the water rose and some boards from the farmer’s barn, and we had a plan and paddles. My brother was much younger than me, meaning smaller, and we needed someone with power and size to crew. There was a new subdivision up the road and we picked a kid, and swore him in to our secret oath. The plan was to make it to the White River. The water was rising in the creek and one Saturday morning, we decided to launch her. The water was swift and she bounced around on her flat bottom, but she was pretty stable. Our first leg of the trip, we had some mishaps and a couple of sinkings but we were men of the water. We pulled her up into the woods and our hands were numb and our lips were blue. We wet buccaneers had a long walk home. The next weekend, we went again.

We were now more organized and we could manuever our ship better. There was a large tree laying across the creek and as we went under it, we got wedged and she sunk to the bottom. We tried to get the trough unstuck and back up but the water was so cold, we finally gave up. The following weekend, we came back. The water had dropped and upon our return, she was gone. Sadly, we never made it to the White River in our trough and our first adventure was over.

I didn’t realize it at the time but it wasn’t the destination, but the journey forward that makes the adventure. Not knowing what was next or just around the corner, that’s what makes life interesting. Shortly after this, we would move to the ocean.

I learned to sail and found that real boats were a lot easier than a cattle trough and my adventures would be a lot grander. But it was that farmer’s cattle trough frozen in the ice of Cool Creek in Indiana that started it all for me.

Now that I’ve shared my story, I’d like to hear from you. What’s your story. How did you get started with boats?

Jim