Boat Trailering Made Easy

Special Feature
Originally appeared in The Maine Sportsman

There is a world of water to explore in Maine, offering majestic beauty and fine fishing. Once the snow and ice melt, why not trailer to a couple of new ramps?
     Trailering has been around for hundreds of years. Native American tribes pulled early trailers--travois--behind their horses, dragging their personal belongings, food and fishing tackle made of string with handmade hooks.
     With the invention of the automobile, it was just a matter of time before American outdoor enthusiasts invented the boat trailer to increase their fishing range and options.

A Little History
The first boat trailers were lumbering, heavy transporters, often with full-side automotive wheels and tires. Later, lightweight galvanized steel and aluminum were used to construct the frames.
    Conventional trailers usually featured carpet-covered wood cradles. In the 1960s, as anglers began to haul bigger, fancier boats, trailers came with rollers so that owners could unload and load their boats more quickly.

Maine Options Abound
When it comes to access to fresh and saltwater, we are fortunate to live in Maine. Visiting fishermen are amazed at the natural beauty and diversity Maine offers. Take for example the Kennebec River Valley and environs, which offer large inland lakes, ponds and the mighty river itself that flows from The Forks, through Madison and Anson, Waterville and Augusta. From Augusta downriver, the Kennebec's tidal action ebbs and flows all the way to the Atlantic.
     With a bit of logistical planning, anglers in this region who start early in the day can catch salmon, large- and smallmouth bass, brown trout, brookies and rainbows, and then had out for "schoolie" striped bass--and still be home for supper.
     It's easy to find ramp locations in the Maine Atlas and Gazetteer. Take a look at the inside front cover to interpret the two types of launch symbols--a solid boat hull designates a trailerable launch site, while a hollow outline of the small hull icon marks the hand-carry sites.

Trailering Tips
Here are a few trailering tips and reminders that apply in most situations.

Before your leave home...

• Use wide, quality tie-down straps. A little duct tape over the buckles is good insurance if you're taking a long trip.
• For the ride to the ramp, stow almost everything inside your vehicle.
• Make sure the boat's drain plug is screwed in tight.
• Put the boat key in the ignition--then you won't panic and look goofy at the ramp searching for it.
• Engage the starter briefly to make certain the battery is fully charged. A spare battery has saved many fishing trips.
• Check your fuel supply. There's no greater feeling of despair than being in the middle of a large windy lake or cruising offshore and noticing your tank is empty.
• Sort your dock lines, anchor and anchor line, so you are not scrambling to untangle them during a launch.
• Don't forget life jackets and required safety equipment.

At the ramp...

• Pull off to a safe spot and load your gear and tackle into the boat. Take a quick walkaround to see that you've removed all the straps. Recheck the plug. Now you can head to the ramp.
• If you're new to trailering, practice before your first launch at an empty ramp when it's not busy. You don't want to hold folks up on a crowded summer weekend.
• Someone will need to unhook the boat's tow strap and safety chain, then control the boat's bow line as it comes off the trailer. As the designated driver, especially if launch traffic is busy, try to avoid having to walk back and help the line handler. Better to drive your vehicle and empty trailer up to the parking area so you don't delay the next boat in line. Managing all this smoothly is the sign of a knowledgeable skipper.
• If you can, check out ramps in advance. How's the parking? Is the area lighted for your return? Got toilets? Picnic tables?
• When it's time to reload the boat after your trip, make sure the safety chain is attached to the boat's towing eye before you let go of the winch handle. (It can whirl like a live thing and cause injury.)

In low tide or low water in a lake or river...

Here's  familiar situation: a too-shallow ramp. Last summer I used a dirt boat ramp on Indian Pond; the water was too low to float the boat off the trailer. I backed until my tailpipe was bubbling, but didn't dare back farther.

     To the rescue: I have a lightweight, spare Danforth-type anchor on a 30-foot line.  That day at Indian Pond, I climbed into the boat, stood there like a Wild West buckeroo, swung the anchor around my head and heaved it off the stern. Then I set the anchor by hand and made it fast to the lifting ring.

     With the stern of the boat firmly secured to the anchor, it was easy enough to drive the trailer out from under the boat, leaving it floating in the shallow water.

     The scene may have looked a bit crazy, but I wasn't about to miss a day on the water in Maine.

Brain Parts

Originally appeared in Florida Sportsman

Ever wonder why so many boats live in yards on trailers? Probably it’s because the buying part of the owner’s brain--responsible for imagining joy and the new boat zipping along on that first day--lost out to the witness section of his brain that watched his wife fall hard on her tailbone on the slimy boat ramp. The witness part of his brain also made a permanent recording of the savage summer rain storm with huge seas and zero visibility…his panicked children…running aground on the way back to the ramp…paying the tow boat…and so on. 

As a new boat owner, the joy part of the owner's brain, with all its early promise, had considered free Coast Guard Auxiliary safe operation and coastal navigation classes, but the fun-loving, macho part of his brain said, “Hell no, not me.” Now the owner's wife won’t even push the lawn mower near the boat, and the kids always have other things to do. 

Truth is, my brain also has a vicarious section that loves to plan fishing trips. I do my research months ahead, when it’s cold and windy outside. Unfortunately, my vicarious brain part doesn’t do details very well.  

Case in point: I recently arrived with pals at an Abaco Island bonefish lodge to discover that the “native Bahama guides” was really just one guide, an enormous young man from the bright lights of Nassau who didn’t know a bonefish from a sand perch. The ancient 20-ft. skiff could get us to a flat to wade, but poling was impossible. Fishing “muds” was the guide’s idea of bone fishing, which he did with hand lines. It’s the least sporting way to catch a bonefish. We were waaay too snooty for that. We waded and didn’t catch many fish, but they were small.

The lodge’s dining room with spectacular water views was closed right after dinner, so we returned to our rooms to drink and tell lies. Why was the dining room closed? That night I awoke to a scurrying sound, flipped on the light and saw at the foot of my bed hundreds of cockroaches covering a box of mangoes I’d brought. The next morning I couldn’t look at the breakfast buffet. I suspect the roaches live in the refrigerator to keep cool.

My vicarious brain section was so eager to go bone fishing I’d bought every lie in the outfitter’s ad in the fly-fishing magazine. Should I have insisted on references, on talking to recent visitors to the lodge? Common sense went fishing.

Trust me here. Your brain is waiting to surprise you. As it gets older, more wrinkled, the brain section that learned outdoors skills begins to weaken. The brain part that selects a long-established fishing knot will come up with a way to tie it more efficiently. All parts of your brain are on the slide when this happens, so be forewarned. The same brain part is responsible for not leaving enough of the leader’s tag end to tie a knot properly, and makes you ignore every illustration, even YouTube videos. Your cheapo brain segment produces this subtle change.

Your goin’ fishing brain part is responsible for not putting the plug in the boat and leaving your new rain jacket at home. It easily overcomes the brain part regulating caution. I’m not sure what brain section is responsible when your new super beer cooler (more expensive than your laptop and lawn mower combined), placed in the boat ever-so carefully, bounces out on I-95 in Miami’s morning rush hour. Who’s responsible for that!?  Blame it on the "poop happens" part of the brain. 

Fortunately, the imaginary memory part of my brain stores the catches of three permit on one day on fly in Key West—those long, perfect casts. Bonefish are in a different brain fold, but easily accessible, in there with giant Rainbow Trout and salmon on my hand-tied flies. Argentine sea-run rainbows? I can see ‘em from my armchair. Makes me want to go out in the yard and check on the boat. My memory is a wild thing. Isn’t yours?

Mr. Getchoos: Don't Let Them Ruin Your Day

Originally appeared in Florida Sportsman

Even worse than having every man at your party come out to correct and advise you about how you’re cooking the ribs on the grill is the phenomenon of Mr. Getchoo, who seems to hide inside every man who’s ever ridden in a boat. You meet him when you show up with a new boat, particularly if it’s a nicer boat than his or one he hasn’t seen before. Like grill advisors, these guys often have zero experience, but plenty to say.

I showed my new 16-foot fishing skiff to a group of men outside a fishing club meeting one night a few years ago when I was new to town. The first man to comment said, “You need to getchoo a white all ‘round lite if you’re going to be fishing at night.” Second man said, “I like it a lot, but you’ll need to getchoo a bigger boat if you’re going to fish the Bay.” A third man said— adding a twist to “getchoo” — “You oughta gotchoo a Gheenoe. Lots of our members have Gheenoes.”

I have an all ‘round white light, a nice tall one custom-wired, but I don’t attach it unless it’s dark. Duh! Tampa Bay can be rough, so the boat is on a trailer. I can find a lee to fish when the wind’s blowing. Sometimes I cross the entire state of Florida. The hull design bears a strong resemblance to the seaworthy open rowing skiffs cod-fishing trawlers carried in the north Atlantic. Comparing my boat to a Gheenoe exposed the man as an ignoramus about small boat hull design.

Mr. Getchoos are experts...in their own minds. They’d like to have you think they’re trying to “hep” you, but they aren’t. They can annoy you if you aren’t aware. From dock lines to anchors to coolers and electronics and trolling motors and the tires on your trailer, they have ideas about how you should outfit your boat--to suit them. Mostly, they’re just jealous.

Another version is the “I hada” man, who says, “Oh, yeah, I hada cooler like that one time. Didn’t hold ice past lunch. Blew out of the boat on I-95. My son hadn’t tied it down. You need to getchoo some tie-downs, and getchoo one of them new $500 coolers you can put up in the bow and stand on.” Not happy with adding equipment, the I "hada" man will remodel your entire boat. When he says, “I hada” he means many years ago. I’ve got an old friend with more hair in his nose than on his head. I catch him regularly fibbing, and it usually starts with, “I hada….”

Disguised put-downs can ruin your day, and these guys know it. They want to appear smarter than you are. It’s why, if you invite one to join you for a day’s fishing, he’ll dress counter to your style, bring more tackle than the trip calls for, show up late and unload enough tackle boxes and gear to fill a much larger boat. Wearing cutoffs and an old T-shirt, he’ll comment on your snazzy fishing shirt with the logo. He’s never been on a fishing team. Did he bring too much gear? Well, sorry, he’s used to larger boats. He can leave a few things behind (sort, sort, set things aside, back and forth to his truck). Probably won’t be fishing for big tarpon out of this boat anyway. Oh, you want me to sit here!? Not much room. Gunnels aren’t very high…better put on my rain gear, gonna be taking spray. Hada boat like this when I was a kid. Did you bring enough ice for a couple of six-packs and my lunch? We’re not going far are we? When will we be back? I oughta call my wife.

Be on the lookout for these guys with their getchoos and oughtas and hadas. Don’t let ‘em ruin your day.

Back at the dock, here’s a solution. Say, “Thanks for all your help today. I made a list of your suggestions. With all you know, you need to getchoo a boat of your own, getchoo a radio show or a newspaper column, and getchoo a more experienced angler to fish with.”