Motorboat, Motorboat, go so slow...

The wee lad got a really cool present this Christmas from his Nana and his Papa: A remote-controlled motorboat! It's a Racing Boat!! You can tell because of the sticker on the side that says "Racing Boat!!"

It's been sitting down in the cottage closet, awaiting our return to the lake.

He finally had an opportunity to assemble and apply all of the appropriate stickers to the hull.

And then he waited some more, because we realized that it uses a rechargeable battery that requires a minimum of 5 hours to charge. It was a very. very. long. five. hours.

Once the minutes ticked away and the hands on the clock stopped moving backwards, it was time for its maiden voyage. He gingerly carried it to the end of the dock, set it into the water, and...

VROOM!

It took off like a shot! It's a speedy little thing, and he's the envy of all the other kids right now. He even had a passing motorboat slow down to check it out. (He is very proud of this fact. I half wonder if the passing boater wasn't simply concerned about swamping the wee boat).

We're clearly going to need to invest in a second battery though. Every time he has to bring the boat ashore to charge the battery is pure torture for him.

There was a brief period of consternation after it started to misbehave (one of the propellers was cycling on and off, rather than staying on) but they soon diagnosed the problem as "weak battery" and the boat was back in the water.

That. Damned. Boat. ™

Today, after yet another dance class, we packed up and towed That Damned Boat™ to the marina. We wanted to get it into the water so that next weekend, when we arrive late in the evening, we won't have to deal with getting the boat launched before heading over to the cottage. Cleverrrrrr.

The trip went without incident although I can confess to a bit of anxiety about dragging the boat around on a trailer. It's not something the Captain has a lot of experience doing, so the opportunity exists for things to go horribly awry. The worst of our trouble appeared to be the weather. It was overcast and drizzling lightly the whole way there.

As we arrived at Marvin's (a.k.a. Wood Duck Marina), there was another fellow attempting to launch his pontoon so we pulled up and waited a short while. The Captain took this opportunity to put the bilge plug into the boat (very important to avoid promptly sinking once in the water), to remove the straps, and to disconnect the electrical from the trailer (very important to keep things from going ZZZzzzztttzzzzot).

Soon he was able to back up the truck (unlike this doofus)

He then launched the boat into the water.

At about this time he realized he had no rope tied to the boat yet, and it was quickly heading adrift.

Heehee. These are the times when I'm most grateful for my camera. Please note everyone standing around watching and not helping.

With the boat tied up, he hopped in to start it up. It turned over a few times, and then did nothing. So he cranked it and cranked it and cranked it to no avail. Rather than incur the wrath of an angry captain (you don't have to watch many pirate movies to learn that angry captains lead to walking the plank!) the kids and I skedaddled into the truck to hide out from the rain. Ah yes, the rain, that was it; hiding from the rain.

He decided his recently charged battery was now dead, so he went to ask Marvin for a loaner. Marvin came out to help him out, and he got the boat started straight away much to the Captain's immense frustration. But wait! It died again! Even Marvin the Marvelous couldn't get it going.
That. Damned. BOAT™.

After some soggy troubleshooting in the unceasing drizzle, they concluded that a black bit had snapped off the pick-up unit of the gas tank, and was blocking the flow of gas in the fuel line.(ah, of course! That was my first guess. *boggle*) With instructions to head to Harris Boat Works to buy a new 'bit', we hopped in the truck, deposited the trailer at the VERY overcrowded lot, and toodled over to Gores Landing. Fortunately there were lots of signs showing where to go. I had a rough idea where we needed to be, but was light on specifics about which street, etc.

At Harris, the Captain was quoted $51 for a new pick up unit, or $70-$90 for a new gas can. Urg. He elected to buy a used gas can (make that two) for $30 ea. We had planned to get a new tank anyway as ours leaks a bit when sloshing around in the car, so it just made sense to buy another gas can.

Gas cans in hand (or, I guess, "in truck", as it just so happened) we drove back around to the other side of the lake to give the new pick up unit a whirl.

The boat started right away. I made the Captain shut it off and restart it 3 times before I'd head to the island with him. I didn't want to find out too late that his starting the boat was a one-time streak of good luck!

Again, the boat started without issue, so we donned our PFDs, loaded up, and headed out into the grey drizzle.

The lake was a little bit rough coming around the island (though not very) but the crossing was brief, and within minutes we were docked at the cottage! We unloaded all of our junk, except for the paddles which I stupidly forgot in the truck, and spent a bit of time unpacking and making beds. After a little while, we packed back up, started the boat, and zoomed back to shore.

It was brief, but it was our first trip to the cottage this year as a family. HOORAY!

Vreeeooooooom!

There's an annual Poker Run boat race that occurs on Rice Lake in September. After I had extended the girlie weekend invite to my friends, I learned about the Poker Run.

My first thoughts were:
"Poker run!? How can we have a relaxing weekend if insanely large speedboats are tearing up the lake!?"
and
"Oh, Man. My vehicle-obsessed son is going to KILL me if he's not allowed at the cottage that weekend."

After some waffling on the girlie invite I finally decided to have everyone there at the same time. The number of girls who would be attending had diminished considerably so there were beds enough for all. (turns out this didn't matter as none of them stayed the night).

The red-headed kid was in heaven. From the moment he woke up on Saturday morning he was down on the doc with his binoculars, scanning for signs of big-boat activity. This was right around the time when I saw my cellphone for the very last time. *sniff*

They had a great day for the race. The lake was like glass.

"Do you see anything?"
"No, not yet."

The boats congregated in Bewdley at the south-east end of the lake. The captain and the kids took off in That Damned Boat ™ to go to observe. And to use the loo. The princess can always be counted on for an ill-timed bathroom break.

Here are a few specimens that were there.

The money that has been sunk into these boats is just loony. I bet they have spent more than we did for the cottage!

Nobody needs a boat this big or this fast.  I would be more than happy to help them spend their clearly excess cash in more productive ways. Ways that benefit me directly, of course.

*cough*

Moving right along....

Crazyiness

Nuts! Give me your money you loons!

Lined up at the start.

This one was taken from the porch. It's the only boat we saw pass directly in front of the cottage.

 The kids loved this boat. They've spent the whole summer reading the numbers on the motors of boats at the marina. They've realized that the higher the number, the more powerful the motor. This was the best one all summer: why use a 300 HP motor when you can have three!

(Aside:  why list "horse power" on a boat motor. How fast can 900 horses swim, anyway?)

Another view of the boats at the start. The Captain and the kids are in one of the boats in the background. (This photo and subsequent photos were taken from Rice Lake Today Forums)

 This is the boat that roared past the cottage.

 boat.

 Another boat.

 And, another boat.

Apparently the kids called this one the Batmobile.

And finally, the boats tearing down the lake.

For all that the boats are insanely big and loud, we really weren't disturbed much by the noise at the cottage. They were far enough away that you could just hear a dull roar in the distance.

One good boat between us

It seems that we're fated to never have more than one good boat between us.

Mom and Handy Dad joined us for the day on Sunday recently, when Dad's boat started to misbehave. The engine cut out once on their way over, and although they made it to the cottage, he struggled to get the motor started again.

It cut out again on the return trip, and eventually, just as they were entering the marina inlet, it cut out and refused to start again.

This is how close they were to shore when it cacked. I actually took this photo standing beside the truck. Again, I'm nothing if not helpful. When you trip and fall, I'll point at you and laugh. Then I'll take your picture. Then I'll help you up. Then I'll write about it on the web. With photos. I'm good that way.

The captain puttered over in That Damned Boat ™ and towed the pontoon over to the dock. It was a tricky feat of navigation because normally dad has to turn the boat 180 degrees from the direction he was travelling to park his boat in his slip (it's around the back side of a long dock).

When you have no motor and have to drag the boat down the dock by ropes... it's tricky, to say the least.

Currently the boat is at Harris Boat Works in Gores Landing. Hopefully it'll be a small thing for him to get it back up and running again.

Murphy's a dork

Murphy's a dork.

What!? It needed to be said. Murphy and his damned laws.

The one time we need the boat to go because someone was waiting over on the landing to be picked up, of course is the one time the boat wouldn't actually start. Why? Because Murphy is a dork. Also, because the battery was dead.

Thank heavens Handy Dad left a battery charge in the garden shed so we were able to pull the battery out of the boat, plug it in, and a short time later got enough juice into it to fire up the boat and vroom over to the marina to collect the girls.

Shortly after all this happened I lost my cellphone forever. It is nowhere to be found, and I'm very fearful that it has gone to the briny deep.

A storm with a name on it

We have a rule in our family: don't go camping in a storm with a name.

I think we can safely extend that axiom now to include boating.

Earl blew past the eastern coast of the US and Canada on Sept 4th. I don't know if the storm we got that day was related, but the winds were howling - the strongest I'd seen all summer. The lake had never been rougher (in my experience, at least).

The lake was covered in whitecaps (♫ the weather started getting rough ♪) and our poor little boat was being tossed mercilessly (♪ the tiny ship was tossed!♫). Our neighbor had warned us about the really bad waves; he had already had his boat swamped twice and had to have a barge come to haul it up from the bottom, so we were suitably anxious.

The captain and Handy Dad headed out to turn the boat around so the bow was facing out. This helps to prevent waves from breaking over the stern of the boat and filling it with water.(♫ if not for the courage of the fearless crew the Minnow would be lost ♪)

Turning the boat is fairly straight forward: hang on to the ropes and ease it back out of the slip, spin it 'round, and then pull it back in and tie it up. Even a big boat like Dad's pontoon is easy enough to pull around when it's floating on water.

It gets challenging with the ropes are just barely long enough to reach the boat when it's out away from the dock.

But, if you're unlucky enough to lose hold of one of those ropes? Things get downright hairy. Which is exactly what happened to the captain.

Our poor wee boat was nearly adrift, save for the stern line Dad had hold of, and the boat was quickly bobbing and being blown towards the motor on Handy Dad's pontoon.

Oh, No! What do we do now? The captain scampered over to Dad's dock, while Dad nimbly climbed on to the back of his boat and started to fend off That Damned Boat ™ with his feet.

Gradually they were able to ease it away from the pontoon and back into its slip. I, of course, helpfully sat up on the nice dry porch taking photos.

I'm nothing if not helpful.

With the boat safely returned to the dock, we got to watch it bucking in the waves for the rest of the day.

And they were good waves.

Coming right up to the top of the dock.

And sometimes over it.

I fully expected the boat to be full of water after a day of this.

But it wasn't that bad. The captain headed out Sunday morning to run the bilge pump just in case, and hardly a trickle came out.

Needless to say we didn't do a lot of swimming that weekend.