Fat Guy in a Fat Boat

By Peter W. Yaremko

As a boy, the author fell in love with the graceful sailboats he saw dancing on shimmering waters. But many years passed before he had the time and the wherewithal to buy his first sailboat—a traditional but tubby New England catboat. Fat Guy in a Fat Boat is his story of trying to tame what he thought was a ballerina of a boat that turned out to be a nautical she-devil. But in learning to sail, he was also learning life lessons. Seasoned sailors and armchair mariners will find his story at once hilarious and heart-warming.

• Language: English
• Publisher: BookBaby
• Release date: Mar 2, 2015
• ISBN: 9780990905028

Book preview

Preface

THE IDEA FOR this book grew out of a plea for article submissions from John Orlando, editor of the Cat Boat Association's quarterly, Bulletin. As a former magazine editor, I fully understood how difficult it can be to generate content that is interesting, informative, timely—and uncompensated. On a whim, I answered his call and submitted a few tales about a wannabe sailor's initiation to catboating.

In gathering my thoughts and putting them into words, however, I discovered that in learning to sail I also was learning life lessons of a kind I had never anticipated. It was a thrill of self-discovery, and I wanted to share the insights I gained aboard the sailing vessel Copy Cat with both sailors and landlubbers. Fat Guy in a Fat Boat is that story.

The first order of business is to thank the people who have eased my sometimes unnerving, sometimes humorous journey toward becoming a sailor. Bill Menger, whom I learned to love and respect in the too-short time I knew him before his passing, and his gracious wife, Beryl. Jerry Thompson, Menger's general manager who guided Copy Cat from hull mold to harbor. Chuck Westfall, who introduced me to sailing, to catboats and to Bill Menger. Bruce and Patti Parker and their exceptionally deft crew at Parker's Boat Yard, where Copy Cat is berthed and coddled. Bill McKay and Jack Hoey, new friends and caring mentors of my catboat education. Dick Margulis, whose excellent editing of my manuscript kept me honest and kept the book on track toward publication. And my wife, Jo Anne, whose consistent and affectionate cheerleading despite the wet and wind of Buzzards Bay earned her the title of First Officer—a rank richer in meaning and value than Mate.

Truro, Cape Cod

January 2015

Prologue

Then the Lord sent a great wind on the sea, and such a violent storm arose that the ship threatened to break up.

All the sailors were afraid and each cried out to his own god. And they threw the cargo into the sea to lighten the ship.

But Jonah had gone below deck, where he lay down and fell into a deep sleep.

The captain went to him and said, How can you sleep? Get up and call on your god! Maybe he will take notice of us so that we will not perish.

Then the sailors said to each other, Come, let us cast lots to find out who is responsible for this calamity. They cast lots and the lot fell on Jonah.

Then they took Jonah and threw him overboard, and the raging sea grew calm.

FEW THINGS HAVE been written about more than sailing and the perils of the sea. Since Jonah reluctantly boarded a bark bound for Tarshish, under instructions from a God growing increasingly impatient with his foot-dragging, humankind has been torn between our innate craving for the beach and our animal understanding that deep water is not our natural home.

And few things have driven us to seek solace from the Divine more than our rightful terror of an angry sea. In the poetic cadences of the King James translation of the Bible, here's how the ancient author of Psalm 107 describes this terror:

They that go down to the sea in ships, that do business in great waters;

These see the works of the LORD, and his wonders in the deep.

For he commandeth, and raiseth the stormy wind, which lifteth up the waves thereof.

They mount up to the heaven, they go down again to the depths: their soul is melted because of trouble.

They reel to and fro, and stagger like a drunken man, and are at their wits' end.

And in more modern times, the words of what's known as the Breton Sailor's Prayer capture our ever-present wariness of open water:

Dear God, be good to me. The sea is so wide and my boat is so small.

Let's not forget jolly old Saint Nicholas. Nicholas is most widely known as the patron saint of children. But in other parts of the world, Saint Nicholas is the chief patron of