This was the day I’d been waiting for — my first trip out of the marina.
Like any marina, you need to learn the local navigation, but being on a river adds a few more obstacles and hidden hazards. And Lake Erie? Even more. I never thought my first time out would be solo, but in hindsight, it was the best way to get familiar with the boat — to learn her quirks, her nuances, and how she wanted to be handled.
Mom’s Voice in My Head
Before I even left the dock, I remembered a conversation with my mother.
“Mom, I bought a boat. It’s something I’ve always wanted.”
Her response was classic: “Why are you buying a boat? Do you know anything about boating? Couldn’t you help your sons instead? Isn’t there a charity that needs you? Boating is expensive! Where are you even going to keep it?”
She wasn’t wrong. Boating can be expensive, and without a budget, costs can spiral. Fuel alone is enough to make you wince.
Fuelling Up
For my first trip, I needed gas. I had 80 litres worth of old Jerry cans, so I drove to a Native fuel stop, filled the truck, and filled the cans. Marina fuel prices are nearly double or triple, so I was saving a small fortune.
Back at the marina, I unloaded the cans and started filling. I thought 80 litres would be plenty. Wrong. The gauge barely moved. So I went back, filled another 80 litres, and tried again. This time, the gauge crept up to half a tank.
Reality check: this boat takes 100 gallons. My thrifty grin turned into a frown as I came face-to-face with the carbon tax and the reality of fuelling a big-block 454. But I wasn’t going to let that ruin the day.
Casting Off
The engine roared to life, that unmistakable growl of a 7.4L MerCruiser. I looked both ways — no kayakers, no ducks — and eased her downriver.
I turned on the fish finder, only to be reminded this was 1994 technology. The “map” was basically a boat icon floating on blue nothingness. Not exactly confidence-inspiring.
Depth finder said 5 feet. Then 3. Then 1. I trimmed up and skimmed over a mud bar. First hazard noted. Detailed charts just jumped to the top of my shopping list.
Letting Her Run
Once I hit the main river, the depth dropped to 26 feet. Other boats passed me, and I decided it was time to let those eight cylinders loose.
I throttled up. The RPMs climbed past 4500. She planed beautifully — then started to list. Throttled down, she stabilized. Tried again, same thing. Time to learn the manual stabilizers. After a bit of fiddling, I had her balanced and running smooth.
The wind in my hair, CCR’s Fortunate Son fading into the Stones’ Paint It Black on the radio — for a moment, it felt like a scene out of Apocalypse Now. Commercial fishing boats, oil rigs, and small craft crowded the river, forcing me to slow down. But I didn’t care.
I had my moment. My boat, my river, my first voyage.