Going Overboard By King Barnard
The year was 1539, and Hernando DeSoto and his Spanish expedition of nine ships had arrived in Florida and dropped anchor in a protected cove on the southwest shore of what is now the Manatee River, just before it joins Tampa Bay. They were one of the first expeditions to the new world and they were after gold and riches. That anchorage, now called DeSoto Point, was as good a place as any to start their exploration of the new world. It was early evening and the crew was having a round of grog while the cook was getting ready to grill a few burgers.
H
undreds of years later, we were approaching that very same anchorage in King & Aye, our O’Day 25, to raft up with Wild Bill and his first mate, Carol, in Floridays, their Columbia 26. We had been sailing all day and planned to raft up at DeSoto Point for the night. Floridays was already anchored when we arrived, so we maneuvered to tie up on their port side. After securing everything, the cocktail flag went up, and the four of us enjoyed a pleasant hour or so of socializing. Sunset over the huge cross on the beach that now marks DeSoto’s landing was spectacular as usual, and that signaled it was time to start preparations for dinner. That night dinner was to be a salad and burgers, and after a long day of sailing, all of us were really hungry. I attached my new Magma propane grill to the stern rail, hooked up the propane bottle and started the burner. We were in the cockpit having another round, and when the grill warmed up sufficiently, I put four burgers on. I turned to pick up my drink when I noticed the look 78 March 2010
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of terror on everyone’s face and their pointing to something behind me. I turned just in time to see the whole grill rotating to port and in slow motion, the burgers were sliding toward the water. The grill was too hot for me to grab, so there was nothing to do except watch. It was over in seconds and the splash of the burgers hitting the water was followed by long gasps and group expletives—lots of group expletives. We sat looking at each other, but mainly everyone was looking at me in solemn disbelief. Our main course had, no doubt, become a surprise dinner for some lucky school of very happy fish. Fortunately, there was one burger left in the cooler and that one burger, four buns and a tossed salad was going to be dinner for the four of us. As you might conclude, I had plenty of comments, directions actually, about fixing the grill before trying to cook that remaining burger. The instruction book for the grill was still on board, so I thought I might try to recover some of my esteem by actually reading it,
which as many of you know is not a guy thing. Turns out, I had not tightened the nut on the clamp that secures the bottom of the grill to its support rod. Apparently, when the grill heated up, that bracket simply did what most mechanical things do when you heat them: It loosened up. After my stupid feeling subsided, I tightened the bolt and made a mental note to always make sure the rail attachment clamp and the bracket bolt on the bottom of the grill are tight before starting the grill. That done, I restarted the grill, and this time, I succeeded in cooking that one last burger which was split four ways with each one being a bit like those little Krystal Burgers that are about the size of a half dollar. I’m reasonably sure that DeSoto and his crew would have thrown their cook overboard if, like me, their cook had fed their evening meal to the fish. Lucky for me we live in a more civilized time. Perhaps you might think my misadventures on that sail were See OVERBOARD continued on page 76 www.southwindsmagazine.com