THE SEA IS A HARSH MISTRESS

The previous entry explained how I went scalloping with Bob Huss. I should have mentioned that each edible scallop is a finger-nail sized blob perhaps one-eighth inch thick. And how rich they are: eating a small portion of a morning's catch, fried in butter, was equivalent in latent energy to a buffalo steak.

This morning, which happens to be my birthdate anniversary, I retrieved a phone call from Bob Huss (after a great breakfast at The Black Dog) inviting me to join him and two other friends-- the noted how-to author Lynn Herrick and Steve Wilkerson, both initiates to the fine art.

On my wife's wise advice I dressed warmly: silk underwear, lined pants, warm shirtings, and a full rain suit, PLUS heavy rubber boots. 

We met at Bob's boat and after a few minutes, the engine cranked, we cast off mooring lines and were at sea in the bracing morning breeze at about 40 deg. F, and without shock absorbers, so that each time the boat hit the trough between two waves we felt it.

In about 15 minutes, we entered the lagoon, which is separated from Vineyard Haven hahbah by a draw bridge. Quieter waters and shallower. A few commercial scallopers were at work, so Bob guided our craft to an empty section of the lagoon and we cast off the heavy metal draggers. 

Results were disappointing, however, as we mostly got empty scallop shells. The crabs and starfish had been as busy as crows in a cornfield. We got some, though. Then the boat's engine shut itself off. Bob attempted restarts unsuccessfully. 

We were adrift. Fortunately the breeze blew us close to shore. There was a small sandy shelf. The boat entered two feet of water but wouldn't go closer, though Bob wanted her beached. Lynn was in the bow, but only wore sneakers, so I leaped gracefully up on the rail, dangled a leg and let most of my body follow. 

My left boot was in the water but my right foot was stuck on the rail.

Bob said, "Put both feet over, Don."

I said, "I understand the theory but the practice eludes me."

Steve reacted quickly, grabbed the foot and lifted it over the rail...at which point I dropped.

As I fell backwards all of 3 feet into the water below, I screamed "CALYPSO!!" in homage to the final Pirates of the Caribbean movie. 

"Are you okay?" Lynn asked.

"I'm fine, but soaked," I replied. Indeed I felt water inside all my clothing and my boots.

But I lurched to my feet and helped pull the boat onto the sandy shelf.

Shortly after that, Bob managed to restart the engine. They conveyed me to a boat dock near the drawbridge, and I squished along the dock and awaited my wife to come pick me up. Fortunately the water against my skin and inside the clothes acted like an insulator and kept me from freezing

After a hot shower and fresh clothes I felt invigorated by my Adventure at Sea and am ready for more. Next time, I'd like to stay dry.