Captain's Choice Ch. 09-10

"Would you have agreed to do it if I had?" she challenged.

"I don't know. But now that the cat is out of the bag, I suggest we run a trial to see how she makes out. We don't want any surprises when we have clients aboard."

I got a smile in return and the thought crossed my mind that I had been set up by the two women in my life and had swallowed the bait just as they had planned.

Late March weather can be ugly in our part of the world, but luckily, with the help of an accurate forecast, the day we chose was quite nice. The temperature was 15˚ Celsius (59˚F) and with a light breeze at ten knots, the water wasn't rough. I watched mother come aboard, carrying a sizeable camera bag and another bag which might have contained some extra clothes. She didn't exhibit any hesitancy and stood with Ardele as she handled the lines while I warmed up the engines and went over my checklist. It was an idea I had adopted from Jerry McIvor, the pilot who flew us to the site of the sunken Captain's Choice. Treat the boat like an aircraft and check the important details before you go.

I motored slowly out of the marina while mother and Del pulled the fenders in and coiled the mooring lines. My mother apparently remembered some of the routine from her previous experience, because she worked quickly and efficiently. Our route was out along the West Vancouver shore, across the mouth of Howe Sound and along the south end of Bowen Island, then past Keats and Paisley Islands before turning north up the west side of Gambier Island and beginning our return between Gambier and Anvil Island south to the West Van shore once more.

We were in no rush and with a fair amount of sun, it was a pleasant way to spend the day. Mother spent a lot of time with both my binoculars and her Nikon, taking a number of pictures with a 300mm lens. She would download them almost right away onto her laptop to see what she was getting in detail instead of relying on the small display screen on the camera. I thought she must have deleted at least half of them, if not more.

The more time I spent on our Bertram, the happier I was with it. It had a slightly greater beam than the older boat and it felt lighter and more responsive, despite the fact that it was actually heavier. I attributed that to the hull design, the trim tabs, and the extra power. Del told me that it just my imagination as I tried to convince myself that I'd spend my money wisely. She was kidding, no doubt.

Del took the helm for a while and I got to watch Mother as she worked about the boat, taking shots or looking for new opportunities. Some people naturally have "sea legs" and my mother was one of them. A boat is a constantly moving platform which makes using a camera a bit of a challenge. It didn't seem to have much effect on Mother as she steadied herself.

What I noticed most of all was the smile on her face. These were all old familiar landscapes from years ago, but she was renewing her memories and taking in the sights as if it was the first time. I suppose I had a smile on my face to see how much pleasure she was getting from this day. I would glance up to the bridge to see Ardele looking back at me, smiling as well.

We got back to the marina late that afternoon and I could see that my mother was tired. She had been busy all day with her photography and her general interest in our little voyage. The energy required to keep herself steady while the boat moved through the water had taken its toll. She declined our invitation to supper and headed back to North Van and her home. I was pretty sure she would sleep well that night.

"Convinced?" Ardele asked as we watched her drive away.

"About the deckhand thing? Yeah. She'll be fine," I nodded.

To Be Concluded