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Wednesday, April 4, 2012

Docking With Disaster


Conclusion of The Spider Cruise


I let out a sigh of relief as I guided the cabin cruiser to the dock; I could hear Mrs. C. pounding fewer spiders in the back of the boat. We’d been boating on Flathead Lake for less than an hour and it had been a horrid experience. Now our dreadful spider cruise was coming to an end.


I nearly rammed the dock in my hurry to get my family back on land. I shut off the engine and dashed to find my wife. She looked dazed and exhausted, a circle of pasty spider goo surrounding her. Little CJ was still strapped in his car seat and sucking his thumb contentedly, oblivious to what had happened.


I reached for the car seat while Mrs. C. scraped spider guts from her shoes and returned them to her feet. We both sighed with relief as we left the boat. I stepped onto the dock and started walking in the direction of our Fairmont. An opening appeared in the dock. Had I given it any thought I might have guessed the dock was undergoing repairs; a temporary plank had been installed on the water to cross the opening. I stepped onto it and froze before taking a second step. My stomach flipped over when I noticed I was, ever so slowly, moving.


In my hurry to end what had already been a dreadful experience, I’d failed to notice that we weren’t at the spot where we’d departed. Although we’d returned to the bay at the little town of Polson, I’d driven the boat to the wrong side of the harbor. My eyes now fixed on my surroundings with surreal clarity. The dock was a dilapidated wreck. Had I been able to turn around I’d have seen a sign mocking me with bright red letters:


DANGER: DOCK UNSAFE


I’d have the rest of my life to consider my blunder, but at that moment my mind was elsewhere. The plank beneath my feet hadn’t been attached to anything, had merely floated over to the decrepit dock. I was slowly drifting into deeper water, and the plank I was balanced on was slowly sinking beneath my weight.


I can still recall the icy coldness of the water as it filled my shoes. CJ blew a few spit bubbles and giggled. As I contemplated the plunge we were about to take, I regretted our decision to buy CJ the best car seat on the market. CJ was strapped into it like Houdini in a straight jacket, a straight jacket heavy as an anchor.


My swimming skills were modest and the water was about ten feet deep, but it wasn’t the depth that troubled me. The bottom of the harbor was covered with sediment that puffed into little clouds when small fish swam by. What if I lost my grip on CJ when we tipped into the water? What if I couldn’t find him in the cloud of sediment that rose up when we plunged to the bottom? How long could a ten month old baby survive underwater strapped into a heavy car seat? Not long.


I’d never felt so helpless. My heart felt like a block of dry ice; a burning chill radiated through me. I couldn’t twist or turn without lurching toward the water. I couldn’t step forward or backward because the plank was now completely submerged and I was terrified I’d lose my footing. I’d only been a parent for ten months and my foolishness was already jeopardizing my son’s life. I’d entered the hell that only a parent can know.


I felt a gentle tap on my back. I ignored it. Another. Mrs. C., in an astonishing moment of clarity and quick-thinking, hadn’t panicked at the sight of her baby about to plunge to the bottom of the harbor. In a nano moment she’d assessed the situation and figured out what needed to be done. In a pile of debris on the dock, she’d spotted a discarded oar. She was poking me in the back with it. Her voice was calm as she said, “Don’t try to turn around, reach behind you and grasp it. I’ll pull you back!”


The knuckles on my hands were white while grasping the car seat, but I cautiously released a hand and reached for the oar. I’d only drifted about five or six feet from the dock, but the water was now up to my knees. Mrs. C. resisted the temptation to pull hard; reversing direction too quickly might have capsized us. She pulled slowly and methodically, and when I was close enough I plunked down in a seated position on the dock wobbling beneath us. I handed Mrs. C. the baby seat and we quickly scurried off the rickety dock, back into the spider boat for a hop over to the proper dock.


I beat myself up for years, wondering how I could be so stupid as to grab our son and step out of a boat without bothering to look where I was going. Mrs. C. and I didn’t discuss the incident when we returned home. Thirty years later, we still haven’t.

34 comments:

  1. Wow she was really cool under pressure there. I'd have probably panicked and started screaming like a little girl.

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  2. Thank God you're all still alive. Mrs. C. is probably just grateful that you listened to her when it was really important.

    Love,
    Janie

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  3. What a harrowing tale, Stephen. I am so there with your wife aobut the spider thing. Bugs creep me out...you're blessed that she was cool in spite of her obvious terror...Mom's foprget their own issues when faced with a crisis of our children. God bless you both. Laurel

    PS. The hubby and I loved the look of Flathead Lake, but decided it was to cold in Montana to retire there...after reading your harrowing tale...not so much.

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  4. I think Mrs. C. is THE perfect person to have around in a crisis, be it natural or man made. Wow- what a story!

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  5. That was quite a harrowing tale! Kudos to Mrs. C for being cool-headed.

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  6. You'd have been dead long ago if you hadn't married such a smart wife. I'm just saying.

    Have a terrific day. :)

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  7. Holy cow- what a ride- your nickname for Mrs C should be "Spiderwoman"? yikes- what a cool headed customer!

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  8. Wow. Thank goodness for "nano moments." I know they've saved me a couple of times.

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  9. Cudos to Mrs. C for keeping a clear head. :)
    Hey, sh*t happens. Especially when panic becomes part of the equation. If Mrs. C hadn't been panicking over killing all those nasty spiders she probably would have noticed you were at the wrong dock, too.
    It was a bonding moment.
    CJ trusted you both. A good decision. ;)

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  10. The more I hear about Mrs C, the more I like her. She is cool under pressure, and a good wife and mother. Wow. What a story. The mom in me would have kicked in but spiders are something I have never learned to accept. I have written a few posts about my spider experiences and actually wrote one for upcoming days. I like that you say you and Mrs C have never discussed the incident.

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  11. Crikey, that was a close call. Your Mrs was kind not to mention the incident!

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  12. That could have definitely ended much worse..... but that part with the spiders was what got me.... why were there so many spiders in that boat? Thats the worst freekin boat ever!

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  13. Really hair-raising story! Glad everyone survived, except for the nasty spiders!

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  14. My experience is that when their children are involved/at risk, women can be cold, calm, and steely-focused. Your story seems to reinforce that. Glad everything turned out well. :)

    S

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  15. Very close call. Good thinking on your wife...bad thinking on your part, but you already knew that. I sometimes wonder how many deaths in life result from people not thinking things through clearly. I used to work in Workman's comp. One case of a guy that is a full on quadriplegic at the age of twenty happened because the wrecking ball he was working with came loose. He attempted to stop it with his 140 pound body. Yes you read that right...140-pounds verses a 5-ton wrecking ball that broke it's moorings and now swung free.

    A stupid decision that in a split second, destroyed his entire life. Quad forever.

    Just wondering how often one split second decision costs/ruins a life.

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  16. way too many what if's to think about!! right?...instead think about how much you learned!! you can say with complete assurance something like that never happened again.

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  17. It was terrified desperation, and a mistake anyone could have made.

    It also makes for an amazing story.

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  18. Good grief, did this amazing woman have to save her child's life any more times that day? She certainly is astonishing. I hope you bought her a stiff drink when you all finally got back to shore.

    it's an amazing and horrifying tale though. I feel ill when I think of that feeling when you know you can't get out of a difficult situation and just have to hope to survive or be rescued. Luckily I haven't felt it often. To be carrying a child - my child - as well, - ugh, it's too horrible to contemplate.

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  19. I'm just catching up on this series, Stephen. It's a frightening read, because it's so well written. Yet you still managed to get a good laugh out of me with this line: "As I contemplated the plunge we were about to take, I regretted our decision to buy CJ the best car seat on the market." Excellent work, and it sounds like you've beaten yourself up plenty over this. In moments like these, we really can't control the directions in which our brainwaves travel. You made the wise choice in the first place of choosing Mrs. C. as your life mate. All credit to you for that.

    xoRobyn

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  20. If Mrs. C reads your blog, I suspect you've had that discussion by now.

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  21. Some moments are just best quietly remembered and never talked about. I'm sure both of you know that this could have ended differently. Wow - my heart was up in my throat just reading this, and I knew the outcome from the start. I can't imagine how you felt. Or how Mrs. C felt.

    Great writing!

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  22. Is it wrong that I was thinking, "Throw the baby! Throw the baby!" You know. Into the boat. Onto the shore. He would be safe, because he was in the best car seat on the market.

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  23. Mistakes happen. And clear-thinking minds such as Mrs. C are a blessing. Beating yourself up over this is wrong. You would never intentionally jeopardize your child's safety and you were under tremendous stress at the time. And as with everything else in life, there were lessons learned. I'm glad it all turned out okay.

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  24. Scary story. Just don't ever raise the subject for discussion.

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  25. Wow. Couple of excellent tales, well-told. Good job!

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  26. I hate it when that happens.

    Cranky Old Man

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  27. I have a few stories that will never be told. Not sure I'll ever say, "I can look back and laugh at it now."

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  28. Once again ... saved by your belle!

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  29. NEVER underestimate the power of a mother's love. :)

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  30. A terrifying tale with several moments of helplessness. Mrs. C is a quick thinking and resourceful companion.
    Thanks for sharing the adventure.

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  31. I'm not surprised that your memory for this incident remains vivid 30 years on. It must have been really scary, Stephen, to know your offspring was in jeopardy and that you could do little about it.

    That you and your good lady wife have not spoken of it since must be an "elephant in the room" whenever you are on a boat or looking after young ?grandchildren now or in the future. Perhaps you should speak about it and put it to rest?

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  32. I can understand why this still haunts you -- 30 years later -- but really, the mistakes you made were all understandable in your situation: a spider infested boat and a port you didn't know. You were blessed that you were strong enough to hold on to the car seat and that your wife was quick enough to realized immediately what she had to do. My youngest son was pulled out of a neighbour's swimming pool unconscious when he was about three. I wasn't there, his grandfather was in charge -- but I am still haunted by the fact that I wasn't there and whenever I think about the incident ... well I know you can imagine ...

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  33. You were in a hurry, and still flustered after the spider cruise from hell. What you did was perfectly understandable - and I bet you never took your son anywhere after that without checking for safety first, which is why we all have experiences like this: to learn from them. You're human. It's okay.

    Your wife is a smart lady.

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  34. A story for the ages. Or the daughter in law.

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