Now Playing: On The Hook - Ending the Cruise
Topic: Retrospect
On The Hook - Ending the Cruise June 16, 2005 For the last six months, great changes have occurred since I last wrote. When we last found me cruising on the boat in late October at Alamitos Bay in Long Beach. I had been cruising around Catalina Island and a few anchorages near Malibu. I had intended to make Avalon on Catalina Island to make my home on then moorings this picturesque little town. It's like a Mediterranean village with small cottages along the hillside. The church bell rings on the harbor a few times each day. I was hoping to do some writing, history and know some of the locals there. The internet provider there covers most of the area including over the bay. I was hoping to broadcast live on Coverunner Radio from the boat. I was getting the boat ready for supplies and was cleaning the bottom of the dinghy. I had been riding the electric bike for seven miles and then took the train up to work in Hollywood. It was riding in the rain for the last few days. I was getting tired out. So, I rented a car for the last day of work. Next day, I had hauled the dinghy, scraped off lots of growth, and rubbed surfboard wax on the hull hoping that it might work stop the growth (it's ok). I just turned the dinghy over the dock and slipped it into the water. I felt a little bit tired, but I had been doing a lot of work. I was just about to get onto the big boat and starting to make some coffee. My left leg was straddled into cockpit of the boat. The right side was straddled on the dock. I was stuck. I couldn't really move again. I was aware of tunnel-vision and everything cloudy around my peripheral vision, or hear any sound. Yet, I still had acute clarity about what was happening. I noticed that my right arm was doing a little snake dance voluntarily. Sometimes it would go behind my back and then fly around on the air. Sometimes it seemed to have been disappeared. Finally, I grasped the left hand and secured the flailing right arm. For a few minutes I just sat there. I realized that something might be wrong. Soon, for who knows when, I finally was able to move again. I moved down below onto the boat. I changed my wet clothes from cleaning the boat, put on warm clothes, socks, shoes and everything I needed it wallet, keys, Blackberry etc. Turned off the propane gas, electrical and closed the thru-hull valves on the boat. I knew I was going to the hospital. I made sure that I'd at least be warm, hospitals always make me cold. I'd make sure there was at least comfort. I couldn't talk verbally or still couldn't try to even know to be able to make effort to communicate or visually to wave by a few of the boaters next by. I was able to use the Blackberry phone, could actually control of the menus, some of my technical ability for part of the brain to make those things to work. When my son called me, but I couldn't talk. I couldn't cry and make any sense verbally. I only was cussed and could only use the only word I could. Use called as "Crumped" was the only word I could use (I have my some recorded speech during that crisis). My son spent over an hour talking me trying to get some info from me by twenty questions. He didn't know where I might be have moved the boat recently, was I on Catalina? No. Paradise Cove? No. Finally he figured out that I was in Alamitos Bay. He was able to get on the phone with the Harbor Patrol and was able to find me easily, the office was just across the boat. The Fire CRT people tried to check me out and took me down dock on a gurney. My neighbor had recently interviewed & photographed both him and me for an Orange County newspaper about liveaboards. As he went by my rescuers, my neighbor came by his boat. He gave me a clipping of the article and photo about me. I was able to give it to them and only point to it them. It gave me at least some sense about my lost identity. I started to relax a bit and felt that they had control on the situation. This was the end of my cruise. During the next few months the start of recovery was to start and now a complete change of my life. It turns out that the winter storms (call nor'easters. Usually this is the calm lee side) on the Avalon where I had been headed to. They got blasted there a few times. They lost boats, had torrential rains and had six foot surf. I saw three headlines with scary photos on The San Diego Log, the boating newspaper. Who knows what else had occurred to me instead. Mercy Harbor (her hidden name). Noel Diotte noel@coverunner.com Coverunner Radio - Ocean/Island Music Website: http://www.coverunner.com Listen: http://www.live365.com/stations/coverunner