Sneakers... and how I avoid the killer wave

Well, Jim said he was going to write down his experience of the "killer wave". But he didn't. So, I will re-tell the story of Jim's experience getting the dinghy to shore in Chamela. As I said previously, Jim and Tim love to talk about the correct way of getting your dink to shore in surf. Never mind that they haven't done it until now. Man talk. Of course, I certainly don't know how to get the dink to shore in surf. And I will probably never know - unless I'm on fire, which I justify is the only logical time.

Jim opted to take the dog to shore since Tim refused to ever go ashore in the dinghy at Chamela again. That morning, Tim decided that dinghy landings in Chamela were dangerous. The surf really doesn't look too bad from the boat, but I guess it gets rough once you try to navigate yourself safely to shore. I wouldn't know; I never got off the boat. I call myself smart; Jim calls me 'chicken'. Whichever, I'm not the one who was soaking wet, eyes bugged out of my head, and shrieking like a girl.

Towards evening, Jim took the dog (who still refuses to poop on the poop deck, by the way) to shore to potty. She's an old dog (14 years this spring) and we feel we owe her the respect of pooping on land. It's a pain because we have to take her at least once in the morning and once in the evening. Jim, being the big man that he is, decided to take the dog while I clucked with the kids on the boat. He  smartly picked a landing area on the beach that was void of witnesses that might laugh at him.

Jim recalls that he was nearing the shore and watching carefully at the waves that were crashing forward. He wasn't sure that he wanted to land at that spot. He was just observing. He was timing the crashes so that he could gun the motor and make the "perfect landing". Just then, he heard a roar behind him and turned around just in time to see a huge sneaker curl up behind him. The monster wave must have been a biggie because when Jim turned around Bailey-dog was nowhere to be seen. She had freaked and jumped ship. Jim was committed now and so gunned the motor hard.

It was a bumpy ride and when he saw sand ahead he pulled the kill switch to the outboard. The cord came out, but the motor was still running. He thought he had run over the dog, who was still nowhere to be seen. Jim managed to shut the motor off manually and pull the dinghy up on the beach. Thirty feet later, Bailey-dog was plopped on the beach by another wave and she was none too happy. But after going #2, she appeared happier. And Jim swears that not a drop of water got inside the dinghy.

Jim then had to figure out how he was going to get the dinghy back to Hotspur. He got the dog in the dink and swam a ways out. Once the prop quit hitting bottom with every downward motion, Jim started the motor. As the white froth screamed towards him, he held on to the pontoon tightly and gunned the engine. The dink's nose was skyhopping and Jim was hanging on for dear life. Jim managed to pull himself up over the pontoon and get inside the dinghy... motor still raring. Bailey didn't bail out this time, which is good because I think Jim would have left her. The dinghy was not water-free on the return trip.

The next morning, Jim's near-death experience prompted him to sail quickly to Tenacatita so that we could take Bailey for a walk. The surf is more 'man'-ageable.