Don’s Marine Salvage Yard and spare parts emporium

Hello.

Since this is my first submission to Larry’s blog, I’ll introduce myself.  My name is Nat and I used to have a life of adventure and excitement.  Then I retired and the most exciting thing in my life now is eating enough fiber to keep my system functioning with some amount of regularity.  I have a little story to share with you and it starts like this…

Captain Nat

As sleep slipped away, it was replaced by awareness.  This did not happen suddenly as with an alarm, but more like the way summer blends into fall.  The wind was howling in the rigging, rocking the boat gently but insistently, reminding me of the hurricane in the Gulf of Mexico that had just came off Cuba and was churning slowly toward Texas, causing us in Tampa Bay to breath another sigh of relief.  The sound of water lapping against the hull told me that the wind was from the East.  Here at the dock, this would seem like a very normal day, but that was not the case.

Today, the air was charged with electric energy.  As the peace of slumber slipped away and the awareness settled in, excitement flooded my mind as I remembered that today was to be marked by a road trip!

Bill, on Falcor II a couple of slips over, had invited me to go along to Don’s Marine Salvage Yard in Largo with him and Mike!  I rolled out of the bunk and proceeded to get ready to go with an unaccustomed sense of purpose.

Falcor II

Out in the cockpit, I made an odd discovery.  The basin had three or four more feet of water in it than is normal.  With a sense of dread, I recalled that my hose connection was leaking and during the night must have filled up the basin, Tampa Bay, the Gulf of Mexico, the Atlantic, and raised the ocean level world wide. A lot of people were going to be pretty unhappy with me.  And it was only a drip that had done so much damage.  OK, wait a minute, there’s no way.  I then correctly surmised that Hurricane Ike churning offshore, though not coming here, was close enough to provide a mild storm surge along with the howling winds and overcast skies.  I still should fix that drip!

Climbing down the almost vertical ramp from the deck to the dock with a fishing pole was no easy feat for an aged overweight retiree, but I managed to scale down it like a mountain goat with no serious injuries.  I had about an hour to fish, casting my lure as close to the pilings as I could before Bill emerged and it was time for our adventure to begin.

High water in the marina

Mike was waiting for us at the 4 door Chevy Malibu and after initial pleasantries, we cast off and were underweigh with Bill at the helm, Mike sitting aft, and me up front beside Bill.  I was paying close attention to the navigation but was soon completely lost as our voyage consisted of many, many, course changes as we wound our way through down town Tampa.  It was interesting; watching the young pretty people all dressed up, some scurrying along the sidewalks from office to office, and others, seemingly maintaining station at the intersections watching the light signals changing from little walking men to an open hand.  Old memories came back to me of times long gone when I sometimes interacted with such people.

Eventually, almost as if by magic, we were on the Howard Franklin Bridge and with a view of the water, I immediately regained my bearings as I looked longingly out across the open uncrowded expanse.

With our return to the land, my navigational awareness again departed and I just enjoyed the rapidly moving sights until Bill announced that we had arrived.  I was almost disembarked before the car was completely docked.  The sight I was beholding would entice any sailor to jump ship.

I had never even thought of an auto salvage yard for boats.  But here I was, confronted with the enormity of it all.  Bill, Mike, and I, were quickly separated and only occasionally crossed wakes as we cruised amongst the rows of junk and the buildings, sheds, trailers, and racks of more junk.  For a guy, this gigantic place of junk was as beautiful as a sand bar with a palm tree.  Whatever any boat anywhere needs, it’s there among the rows and rows of stuff.  You might never find it, but it’s there!

Several hours later we met back up at the car.  Bill had a spinnaker slide track and a hat full of stainless fittings and bolts, screws, etc.  I had a plastic thru hull that cost me $2.50.  Mike was just puffing on his corncob pipe, empty handed but with the look of someone just emerging from a burlesque show.  I don’t know how to measure our success, but it would require a philosophical approach to do so.

We loaded up, cast off, and pointed our bow toward home, but didn’t make it all the way.  The toil of working the junk yard had taken it’s toll on us and we ended up having to strike our colours and pulled into a Wing House.  Besides the several beers apiece and my grilled grouper sandwich, we managed to render a flock of chickens flightless.  Our waitress, Lisa, had a most interesting hull.  With a bulbous bow and racing transom, she was one of the fastest sloops in the place.  I was proud to sign the papers adopting her and may now have to return to the work force to put her through college.

The absolutely necessary spare part for something

Reluctantly, we climbed back aboard and put the Wing House astern.  The rest of the trip was rather quiet, yet it seemed only a short while later I could see the masts of my beloved boat and home.  The tide may have gone out, but the water had not.  I climbed up the steep incline of the ramp reminiscing of the fun day of adventure ashore and wondering what the hell I’m going to do with a small plastic thru hull.

I hope you enjoyed the road trip with us and may the wind remain abaft your beam.

Nat

Filed Under: Nat's slip • Sailor's Yarns

Tags: boats • Largo • Nat • salvage yard