Grandpa – 95 Years and Sailing

Grandpa RumHead at the helm.

Last week Thursday my parents drove my 95 year old Grandfather down from Inverness to sail on our “new” Morgan. Grandpa RumHead had just returned from a summer stint in exotic Waldron, Michigan. In October he hit the 95 year mark and is getting around very well. About a year and a half ago he was diagnosed with small cell cancer that had started in his lungs and spread to under his arm. Grandpa never smoked, but back in his day of chemicals, asbestos, formaldehyde, etc., anything could have caused it. After chemo and radiation, he beat the cancer and just checked out all clear last week – an amazing accomplishment at his age.

I introduced Grandpa to sailing about 10 years ago on my little Victoria 18 and he loved it. Since then he’s gone on a Caribbean windjammer cruise, a Port Charlotte sail charter and quite a few trips on my ever-changing armada of sailboats. Michigan printer/farmer turned sailor – a feel good story for the ages.

The parents arrived in Gulfport with Grandpa about 11:00 a.m. I grabbed a few beers from the fridge and we headed down to the marina. Luck was with us, the tide had the boat perfectly level with the dock and boarding Grandpa was pretty easy. Getting him down in the cockpit was a little more difficult, but I had put the bimini down so he wouldn’t have to fold in half to get under it. With everybody secured, we shoved off and headed out into the bay.

The wind was perfect – about 12 knots allowing us to go full sail without too much hassle. I guess the wind was a little too perfect because after about an hour of sailing back and forth in Boca Ciega Bay we got a little careless and ran aground at the far West end near the Don Cesar. About 5 seconds before it happened, my brain said “we probably should come about since we’ve never been in this area before” and I swear, the thought barely left my neurons and THUNK we hit the mud. Arrrrrgggg –  old Mariola was heeled over pretty good too. I knew this was going to be a tough one. It was a soft hit, barely shaking us - but she was stuck. All sails were brought down, diesel fired up and going, the regular routine of shifting reverse forward, trying to get to the deep water only a few feet away – what fun. After about 15 minutes it became clear that SeaTow was imminent. The embarrassing call was made; ”uh, yeah – we ran aground, yes everybody is o.k., yeah we’re the sailboat near the channel that’s not moving, o.k. thanks.” The crew kicked back and waited. This would be my first time getting degrounded by professionals. In the past I’ve always been able to crank up the centerboard, or just jump out and push, but this boat weighs a ton and I knew the only result of a pushing attempt would be wet underwear.

My rum drinking heritage

So we sat. Then a few little ripples from a passing powerboat came by and lifted Mariola up for a moment. Dad saw this as our opportunity and hollered to fire up the motor again. I agreed and we quickly rolled out the headsail to get her heeled a bit, Dad leaned over the leeward rail and  we made a break for it on the larger wake that was approaching. The big stinkpot waves rolled in and lifted Mariola enough so that we could bounce along to deep water. There’s no better feeling than gliding along through the water after being trapped. Of course, I owe it all to a powerboat. That was hard to type.

A quick call was made to SeaTow to stand down and the sails were raised again. I grabbed the Pyrat rum from the cabin to celebrate and we sailed the day away. Grandpa had a great time and even took a turn at the wheel. I think he has the bug now more than ever.

Watch this little video to hear how Grandpa deals with pirates:

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