Before I started writing this I was out on our gargantuan barge boat Calypso, bouncing between our island campsites to clean the bathrooms and restock bundles of wood. This task is called “Islands,” and whenever I see that word next to my name on the schedule I have to fight the urge to do a fist pump. Islands is my favorite task. I don’t think anything can beat spending a few hours alone out on the boat.
Today I began my rounds on Bowman Island, where I cleaned the bucket composting toilet and unloaded many bundles of wood. As I pulled away from the dock with Calypso, I noticed that the engine was shuddering unusually. I have seen our boat engines shudder in multiple ways, but this one was new to me. I tried adjusting the speed because I thought maybe the gears weren’t engaged correctly. The sound persisted. Then the engine cut out. I wasn’t too worried; this had happened before, and usually I can get it to start right back up by pumping the fuel ball or tightening the nuts on the battery terminals. I even had the nerve to think, “I got this. Ha! If this were a few months ago I wouldn’t know what to do. But now I’m EXPERIENCED.” Alright. Annnd… the engine did not start right back up. Having exhausted my meager bag of tricks, I stared at Calypso’s engine as we drifted in the channel between Moon and Bowman.
“Do you need any help?” One of the Bowman campers had just pulled up to the dock in his small fishing boat and was watching me with his hands on his hips. He boated over and we decided that he would try to tow me to the Moon dock. As I mentioned before, Calypso is a monster. We didn’t know how well it would work to tow her using his tiny boat, and neither of us had much (read: any) boat towing experience. But we were going to try our darndest!
Just then I noticed one of the other campers standing on the Bowman dock watching us. I recognized him as Dan, a camper I met yesterday who also happens to work at the marina where we get our boats serviced! After some gesticulating from Dan, Camper #1 (in the flurry of activity I never got his name) chauffeured him from the dock to Calypso. We began a strange dance to try to stay 6 feet apart while Dan hopped on to take a look at the engine. He used a wrench to tighten the battery terminals, he emptied the oil water separator into an old coffee cup provided by Camper #1, and reconnected the fuel line.
We don’t know what worked, but something did. The engine started with no shudders. I bid farewell to my rescuers as they headed back to Bowman and I continued to Moon, feeling jolly after this positive stranger interaction. Calypso continued to run smoothly when I left Moon for Chamberlain Reynolds. I cleaned the Clivus there and returned to the boat to go to the dock on the other side of Wister point. I turned the engine on and started backing up and… it died. I tried a few times to start it again, and finally I was able to get it to sputter to life. It wasn’t running smoothly, and still shuddering, so I returned to the dock to avoid getting stuck farther out in the lake. I called Command Control (aka my wonderful boss Dani) and we decided that one of my fellow LRCC members, Moses, would come out in the Whaler to help me troubleshoot and/or pick me up.
When Moses arrived, Calypso’s engine defiantly purred to a start. And stayed on. Moses raised his eyebrows at me and I gave a half laugh/shrug as we leaned over the engine to watch for a few more seconds. A rational feeling would have been relief that something serious isn’t wrong with the engine and that we won’t have to leave Calypso out in the rain for the night, but those are not the feelings that I had. The feelings that first rose in me were “you shouldn’t have called, that’s embarrassing, you should have figured that out.” But then I found myself fighting against that doubt and shame. I had tried all of the tricks I knew to get the engine to work normally; I had looked around and seen that there weren’t any other boats near me to provide help; I knew that thunderstorms were rolling in later in the day, and I didn’t want to get halfway home and stuck in the middle of the lake. I looked back at these factors and felt validated by my decision. This is not a feeling I am used to. I second guess myself constantly. I always think, “I should know how to do this.” or “I should have done that in a different way.” And those thoughts are accompanied by shame. But recently, and I think the Lakes Region Conservation Corps program has helped me with this, I am mentally standing up next to my decisions and mistakes. I can more easily look back at my thought processes and appreciate them. I am proud and excited that my first reactions to, say, docking the boat in a really ungraceful way while there are people watching are not, “I wish someone else were here to do this,” but instead, “well that’s one more ugly docking! I think I’m getting better.” And that kind of thinking is so rewarding.
I am looking forward to the next time I get stranded out on Calypso.
Grace is a Full-Year LRCC member serving at the Squam Lakes Association. We appreciate her attention to detail, willingness to dive in and figure things out, and cool pants. You can learn more about Grace here!