I spent many years sailing with Clare and Ruth.  They, with their blue steel hulled Kasumaru ship and I with my plastic “Claddagh”.  Typically, with boats, there was always something to fix, and Clare was a good fixer.  And it was a good thing he was as he helped me many times.  But my issues lacked the show stopper happenings of their Kasumaru.  My seized turnbuckles paled to his at sea happenings like a total loss of steering, an engine fire in rough seas, a transmission failure in a tight channel, man overboard in dock (Oh!  That was Clare), just to name a few.

One of the two times he experienced a steering failure was en-route from Toronto to Whitby.  Now, steering on a boat is kind of a must-have.  Most people would drop anchor and call for help.  Not Clare!  Without an emergency rudder, Clare unclamped the barbeque from the stern rail and clamped it to the rudder post stem.  He then was steering, in a fashion, with his BBQ.   He then phoned me as I had originally installed the steering on his boat. 

He said, “I’m 3 hours from port and have lost my steering.  I have fastened my BBQ to the rudder and am using it to steer.  What do you think I should do?” 

I resisted saying, “Why don’t you cook your lunch on the stove instead then.”  I arranged to meet him out on the jetty at Whitby and help him get it into home birth.  Clare got that ship all the way from Toronto to the Jetty using his BBQ and inventiveness.  Hats off to Clare!  

Then there was the time we encountered a dense sea fog.  It moved over our ships like a speeding rouge wave leaving us helplessly blind.  Fortunately, or at least we thought so, we had both installed radar on our ships.  So, we could electronically see our way to our destination and safely into port. 

We rafted up and discussed our route strategy.   Now you have to understand my radar screen was mounted facing cross-beam whereas Clare’s was positioned toward the bow.  This in itself made comparisons difficult, at least for us.  We spent the next 10 minutes pointing in various directions and declaring it as the correct way to port. 

I’m not sure how we managed that day, but we made port before nightfall.  Once back in dock, we decided a good measure of Scotch was in order.  After one or two of those, night wasn’t the only thing that fell; Clare missed his step and ended up checking for barnacles on the hull.

Clare was brilliant.  Once coming up the Hudson River north of New York in Claddagh, Clare calculated our progress and said, “We won’t make Albany by tomorrow at this speed.” Looking at the water speed indicator he quipped, “Peter get a screwdriver and adjust the speed needle up a couple of knots and we’ll make it on time.”

On that evening’s stop we walked to a local pizza shop and grabbed one to take back to the boat.  About half way back I noticed Clare carrying the pizza.  Instead of carrying it flat like you would normally, he had it sideways, similar to how you would carry a LP record.  Thanks to Clare, that night the calzone was invented.

They were great times filled with laughter and happiness.  There are countless memories that still bring a smile to my face.  I raise a glass to you, Clare.