The Old Boat

Old Boat at High Tide

No one to my knowledge has ever reported or complained publicly about the old boat beached near the mouth of Mud Bay. Nose to the shore, canted to one side, it was abandoned years ago, positioned precisely so the highest tides gently wash the stern but never threaten to refloat it entirely. My home is on Rocky Point on the east side of Mud Bay, directly across from the boat—about 150 yards away as the seagull flies. Each morning, at first light, I look up from my coffee and computer for a boat check. Yep, still there.

It’s an old wood-hulled craft, perhaps a Monk, 30-plus feet long with a full-length superstructure topped by a small pilot house. The remaining paint attests to a red bottom, white sides, a light blue deck, and a mostly white cabin. The stern deck, where you might stand to fish, is covered with a wooden roof. A four-foot cross that used to bear the running lights pokes up from the pilot house. Several horns are mounted on the superstructure and serve as a reminder that the big vessel was used to getting the right of way. If the name was ever painted on the stern, it was removed long ago. Since we seem to be stuck with the old derelict, one of these mornings I’m going to think of a name for it.