[Public-List] Flare pistol...dinghy fire?!?

[Gordon Laco]

Y'know the real injustice that connects the two stories is the fact  
that my pal who was one of the principals in the Western Gap story was  
the cad who turned me in to our Club's awards night committee after I  
told him the flare gun story.   I won an award that year for 'Best  
Safety' or something like that.     Another guy got an award we used  
to call the 'Lief Erickson Award' for 'discovering new lands' by  
running aground in the most creative manner.   I never blabbed about  
his 'accident' until much later.

Ok here goes...

Many years ago, TOUCH WOOD and I were working our way back west along  
Lake Ontario against the usual strong west wind.  I got as far as  
Whitby on Sunday night (I had been two weeks in the Thousand Islands  
area).   On my day off from work the next week my Mom drove me back  
out there and dropped me at the boat.   When I said good bye to her I  
did what I always did when sailing solo... that is give two ETA's for  
back home in Toronto.  One time (6pm) when I expected to be there and  
a much later time (midnight) when if they hadn't heard from me it was  
time to call the CCG.

I sailed west along the coast in very light airs, and fell to  
motoring.   Back thing TW's motor power was a giant British Seagull  
outboard with a five bladed 11" diameter prop.  Naturally in no time  
at all I ran out of fuel.   When that happened I was in a perfect  
clock-calm off the old Woodbine Racetrack about five miles offshore  
and just short of the club.  Hours passed.   I had no cell phone then  
of course, and no VHF radio due to the boat's batteries being flat.   
1800 came and went, darkness fell, my bearings to the shore didn't  
change by half a degree.

I tried sculling with a dinghy oar lashed to the spinnaker pole, I  
tried towing with the dink, I even tried 'ooching' by sheeting in the  
mainsail and inducing a roll in the boat by jumping back and forth.   
(That got me up to about 1/2 knot but I could not keep it up)

Midnight came and passed; I knew my parents would be worrying about  
me.  Sure enough I began to see the running lights of a power boat  
patrolling inshore of me - I reckoned my folks had called the Harbour  
Police and they were starting to look for me.    I decided that I  
needed to signal them to call off a panic.

Now I had lost my flashlight earlier while climbing into the dinghy  
during one of my towing attempts.   Being the end of a cruise I had no  
more kerosene for the cabin lamp.. hmmm, how to signal that boat....   
Ah - the flare pistol.

I decided to wait until the police boat was at it's closest orbit to  
me (then still a couple of miles away) and fire the flare pistol  
horizontally.  It was my hope they'd see the flash but hopefully  
nobody else would.  (is this starting to sound like a Darwin Award  
nomination?)

I waited another half hour but sure enough the boat started back along  
the coast.  When it was as close to me as it was going to get I pulled  
the trigger.  There was no bang, only a click.  Damn, a dud, I  
thought.  I cocked the pistol again and aimed it into the water  
overside and pulled the trigger again.  This time there was a bang,  
and in the flash I saw that the dinghy had drifted alongside in the  
calm.

The flare blew a 1" diameter hole through the 1/4" marine plywood  
transom of the dinghy and set fire to it.  I could see the shell  
burning and boiling violently as it sank.   I put the fire out by  
splashing, then noticed that the police boat had not seen the flash.

They found me about an hour later and towed me in - sure enough my  
folks had called them.  The Chief of the Harbour Police was a sailor  
and who knew me and my boat... he told my folks that I was likely  
becalmed someplace and not in trouble.  He promised to watch for me  
and it was him that I had seen trending his patrols to the east of the  
city.  The tow was not without drama... I asked them how fast they  
were going to go and I heard the cox'n yell back "about 6 knots!".   
The line tautened and in no time my knotmeter reading was climbing  
past 13.  They weren't looking back and couldn't hear me so I cut the  
line.  They came back sheepishly...

I made the mistake of telling that story to another Folkboat owner...  
and he in turn used it to get me an award at the end of season dinner  
that year.

What happened to that dink?  Well it proudly sported its 'bullet hole'  
for another year at which point I bought a better dinghy.  The club  
was doing  drive to collect up old dinghies for cheap re-sale to new  
members, so I donated the battle scarred one.   It was lined up on the  
beach to wait for its new owner.  Now about that time the club had  
experienced some vandalism and an order had gone out to lock dinghies  
thereby denying hoodlums access to the yachts out on the moorings.    
Nobody thought to lock the donated boats.  Along came the club's  
commodore.  His was one of the boats that had been vandalized so he  
was a little sensitive about people locking their dinghies.   When he  
saw half a dozen assorted dinghies not only not locked and not put  
away properly, but laying upside down on the beach ready for illicit  
use, he figured he needed to teach their lazy owners a lesson.  He got  
a sledge hammer and smashed in the bottom of every one of them.

The next day he was told that the boats he destroyed were the ones  
that he was running a fund raising auction for the sale of, the next  
weekend.   He was sport enough to join in the laughter at his expense.

Have a wonderful New Year's eve friends -

Gord

#426 Surprise (and #16 Touch Wood)




On 31-Dec-09, at 3:32 PM, Rick Leach wrote:

> Oh Gord,
> I imagine that few here would ever doubt your story-telling  
> integrity, even without hearing the flare pistol story. That said,  
> could you be pursuaded to tell that one again? While I'm sure it  
> contains a valuable lesson or two, I imagine your telling of it will  
> result in a belly laugh or two as well.
>
> Rick Leach
> Sugar Magnolia, #121
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