The BC versus the BUG (Big Ugly Guy)

2012 08 23

Kolona Point, Kythnos, Cyclades, Greece 

It Looks So Peaceful But There is a Serious Bug Problem

We are making our way to Athens, uphill of course; not a trip we planned to take  but on Tuesday a nice company will replace our furler for us.  All we have to do is pay for it :(

It will give us a chance to visit Athens which we look forward to.  

Yesterday was a treat.  After eight hours of slogging upwind into 25 to 30 knot Meltemi and their attendant waves, we made Kolona Point on Kythnos Island, a picturesque and protected stop on our journey from Ios to Athens.  Four other boats were dumb enough to believe the 15 knot winds forecast for the trip but having company in the blender we travelled did not seem to help our moods.  On arrival we found ourselves wet, salted and exhausted.  

The Budget Committee claimed first dibs on the shower which was a special treat because the diesel had warmed the hot water tank and so it would be a hot rinse.  

Or it was until  a big (65 foot) motor yacht roared by us in our anchorage close enough to vibrate the glass of water I had set on the salon table down below while my wife showered.  The short hairy barrel chested skipper dropped his anchor about 20 metres in front of us and was backing down to set the anchor.  

Unfortunately the captain, entertaining six laughing and drinking guests in his massive cockpit failed to notice he was backing down on to us.  Likely he did not even notice us as he bulled his way into the quiet little anchorage.

By the time I reached the cockpit I saw the monster motor yacht backing down on us and a half naked Budget Committee storming up the deck.  Ahh.  But what I heard  was even better.  Being attacked while naked in the shower didn't slow my wife down one bit.    She was tired and bitchy from a hard day on the water and now this clueless sob was going to ram us.  Not without a fight he wasn't.  

Marching up the deck she lit into the guy at full volume.  She almost got the towel wrapped around herself as she stormed to the front of the boat giving the BUG (big ugly guy) full notice that he was about to hit us.  There may have been a few references to the stability of his genetic material as well.  I stand witness to the fact that the errant skipper heard my wife.  The entire marina heard my wife.  He bellowed something and then put his motor launch into gear and moved ahead and away from us.  He was maybe ten feet off the bowsprit by then.  His wake rocked poor Meredith mightily.

Not ten minutes later the guy figured he would reanchor so he motored away while pulling up his own anchor.   I guess he was in a hurry to get away.  A smart man would have been.    Had I been on the receiving end of that barrage I would be found on a plane to Buenos Ares travelling under an assumed name.  

Unfortunately the BUG was truly inept.  As he moved away he did not pull up his anchor fast enough and it caught on our anchor chain.  He was travelling pretty fast.  

When he grabbed our chain he met an immovable object, our anchor, which was well set.  Unfortunately our boat was on the other end of the chain.  When the guy grabbed our chain he was moving fast enough to yank his boat around thirty degrees or so.  

What he did to our boat was interesting but I more felt that rather than saw it.  At that point in things I had pointlessly returned belowdecks.  The BC however had been trying to resume the shower that had been interrupted.  The shower she had earned by dint of fighting headon winds and seas all day long without a single complaint.

To describe what ensued I will use an outdated term from the cold war.  We used to have a state of nuclear alert which we used to inform our fighting men how close we were to nuclear war.  DEFCON 3 was the trigger point.  That is exactly the term I would have used at that precise moment. 

By the time I got back to the deck the paint on the motor yacht was scorched from Mom's acerbic comments.  It did not help that the owner of the motor yacht had installed a hood ornament on the front of the motor yacht, you know: blonde, built and dumb.  The insolent thing was stamping her pretty  little foot demanding that we release her anchor "AT ONCE".  

You got the picture.  This idiot (and a cockpit of 6 people laughing and drinking) has just pulled up our anchor, almost thrown a naked Budget Committee overboard, grabbed our anchor and now stands petulantly demanding that we stop interfering with her boat.  

This while we stood on our boat looking at her anchor, which was about 8 feet out of the water, holding our anchor chain in its flukes.  The hood ornament took the position that this was our fault and that we needed to stop interfering with her anchor immediately.  

My wife  explained the situation to her and enumerated the ways in which the woman was too stupid to be allowed on a boat let alone to operate heavy machinery.  Your mother was wearing a towel.  The hood ornament almost swallowed her plump collagen filled lips.  Apparently she had never been spoken to by a contractor's daughter.

Once on deck I gave some instructions to the BC who, still dressed in her wet towel, ensured that the morons on the motor launch did exactly what I asked her have them do.  (I had the guy on the motor yacht drop his anchor until it was just touching the seabed then we motored ahead slow taking up our rode as we did so.  As we got close to the other boat our chain lifted off his flukes and we turned slightly and backed away a few feet allowing him to take up his anchor.  It was not as pretty as it sounds but it worked)

In five minutes our anchors were separated and the other boat took off in a cloud of diesel soot never to be seen again.  We reset our anchor glad to see the last of them.  

Definitely we were the show of the day.   And the BC was in fine form.