Reel-fun

 The small waves brushed against the boat anchored in the harbor. It was a great morning to relax with a fishing pole and a cup of coffee. Then, in a crackling voice, the radio warned of an approaching storm. A severe one was on the way, the forecasters said. He secured everything on deck and took a last look around before climbing into the dinghy to head for shore and the safety of shelter. But in a moment of disbelief, he noticed the small craft was halfway to the shore.

Rain had begun to fall, and the winds were picking up enough to rock his boat and get his sea legs working. The ship-to-shore radio broadcasted warnings to seek safe shelter and keep the lines open for boats in need of help. If ever there was a time to remember his days in the Navy, it was now.

He couldn’t risk washing ashore, so he pulled up the anchor and headed out to sea. He had faith in his boat, built to withstand bad weather, but he had never faced a storm with predicted swells of twenty feet. The name of his boat was Reel-Fun, and it usually lived up to its name, but today it would be put to the test.

In his gut, he welcomed the challenge, relying on his sailing skills and the blessing of King Neptune to guide him. Salt spray pelted his face as he headed into an oncoming wave, riding the crest and shooting straight down like a world-class surfer. As the waves grew and the sea became angry, he thought of the promise he once made to be buried at sea and wondered if that fate might be coming true.

Through the night, the storm raged with pounding waves and gale-force winds as he stood ready at the helm for whatever the sea had to offer. Suddenly, he froze in his tracks as he looked ahead at a wave towering over twenty feet high. There was no time to think; he had to act quickly and turn the boat into the wave, using all the power the boat could muster. It felt like an eternity as the boat began its descent, and when it did, the bow disappeared into the sea, popping back up time and again. For some reason, he found himself riding the massive wave back toward the shore. One might think that was a good thing, but he knew better. At the speed he was maintaining, he would hit the beach like a truck hitting a wall. The keel would break, and he would lose steering, eventually coming to a stop somewhere in the dunes, hopefully upright.

All he had now was faith in his boat and memories of his Navy days. He could see the shoreline clearly now as each swell decreased in size, and the boat gave all it had to stay afloat. She was more than seaworthy; she was a force to be reckoned with and a skipper that would never give up.

A little bit further, the seas began to calm. He guided his boat onto the beach, jumped off, and secured it with heavy lines to trees that could withstand nature’s fury. He examined the damage, knowing that Reel-Fun would need attention. The keel was damaged, as were the two props. The salt spray had stripped the paint off, leaving her looking more like an abstract painting than a boat. The outriggers had disappeared somewhere at the bottom of the sea.

A crowd gathered, looking at his boat and asking him how he managed to keep it from sinking. “It was Reel-Fun,” he answered as the crowd began to leave, some shaking their heads in disbelief at the crazy man with a lot of luck. 

- Mike 2025