Whoops

We always seem to be running out of gas in That Damned Boat™. The 25 gallon tank that we have only seems to last us about four trips to the cottage. Short trips, too. Like 10 minutes each way. I don't know if that's just the way boats are, or if we're having fuel efficiency issues because our motor is acting up.

After the captain dropped off our guests at the landing to head home after a fun weekend, he came back to pick us up and cart us over, because we wouldn't all fit in the boat at one time with all our junk. That was trip #4 on that tank of gas.

So yesterday you read all about how I finally got to drive the boat and took it around the island to see the other side? ahaha. Yes, well, it seems I wasted a bit more gas than planned. Just as we were pulling into the marina, we (I) realized that the car keys were left behind on the hook at the cottage. And....at just about the same time, we discovered we were pretty much out of gas in the boat. The motor conked out just as the boat was drifting into our slip.

We had no keys to get into the car (to go get more gas). And, we had no gas to get back to the cottage to get the car keys. We were trapped! Oh, the humanity!

Enter Handy Dad - or rather Handy Dad's boat. With his permission, we pilfered the spare gas tank from his pontoon boat, mixed it with some oil (thank heavens the captain keeps that in the boat), and the captain and the princess headed back to retrieve the keys while the red-head and I guarded our stuff.

I'm kind of glad it happened, to be honest. Had we dashed off in the car, I would've missed the loveliest moonrise over the glass-calm bay.

The sky was almost lavender, and the full moon glowed heavy and pink on the horizon. The lake looked irridescent.

As the moon crept higher in the sky, we could hear the sound of the boat puttering into the marina.

The captain even had a chance to try out his boat lights for the first time.










Starboard shines green and port is glowing red, I can see the barges dead ahead.*

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*In addition to learning how to braid, embroider a french knot, and build a wash-stand out of twigs and string**, Girl Guides also taught me my port from my starboard. 

It's true. Guide's honour.