Tender Moments

I was going back along the pontoon with the outboard to run it under a fresh water tap, when I heard a strange bleeping noise from my pocket. It quickly became obvious that mobile phones are not waterproof. To make matters worse, it was not my phone but my dentist's - we had swapped as mine didn't work in Ireland then - and now neither did his.

As I rinsed the engine I reflected that at least it was a hot day and, better still, I had lots of dry clothes in the car. The car was locked and - yes, you've guessed it - I had an electronic key and, yes, it was in my other pocked and, no, it didn't work. It was about half an hour later that I finally sorted myself out and started to wonder what had become of Kathy. It was a further half hour before I found that, her disinterest having risen to fever pitch, she had wandered further out on the pontoons and was sitting very comfortably in the cockpit of a complete stranger's boat having her second gin and tonic complete with ice and lemon.

The owner was remarkably hospitable and we shared several other tender moments together, as it were. I told him how, several weeks earlier, on a stormy day, I had been with Alan on his nearby live-aboard eating breakfast. We were being entertained unknowingly by a boat owner 100 yards or so away on a mooring, who had taken to his tender to clean the waterline of his boat. As he opened the throttle to go to the other side of the boat his propeller caught on a trailing line and broke the shear pin, causing the tender to be swept rapidly away - of course there were no oars on board - towards the open sea. Alan's face was a picture as he rushed to finish his breakfast, working out how much more he could eat before breaking away to effect a rescue with his dory.

Several days later, on an even hotter day, I was to have yet another tender moment. My inflatable sat ashore in the sun, quietly obeying Boyle Law. As the temperature rose, the silence was shattered by a very, very loud pop.