Sorry No Art

Shit got complicated quickly.
How could it have been otherwise?
Me and Ross managed to spend an entire day in the cab of his beatup old Ford Ranger without becoming actively hostile. The truck kept running like a dirty little clock and the little trailer kept following along behind and the boat stayed firmly lashed to the trailer the whole time. No cops or wrecks, but Ross did remark that if he had known there wasn't any license plate on the borrowed trailer he would have been paranoid but I figured that went along with there being no place to plug in its tail lights so I didn't give a shit.
It wasn't until we got to Scappoose and backed her down the fucked up little boat ramp at Brown's Landing that shit got strange, but even that wasn't really a surprise.
You take a plank boat that is used to living in the water OUT of the water for a couple months in the summertime and she dries out quite a little bit in fairly short order. The boards shrink and pull apart a little bit, which cracks the hardened putty filling the seams over the caulking and when you bounce that shit around for two or three hours some of the putty falls out for sure every time.
I noticed it first thing when the bow hit the water, that there was a roiling well of water streaming in between the planks and the cracks IN the planks and before she was all the way afloat it was obvious it was fucked up in a unignorable way.
But I had some scissors and a rag in my purse, strips of which rag stuffed in the gapiest of the cracks slowed down the leakage a little bit enough that I got her floating and down to Dave Ts place at the MCYC, got her there, that is, rapidly filling with water I couldn't keep up with having the choice of bail or row which is a bad situation.
Shit you once knew is shit you still know, pretty much, but you have to kind of lever it out of there. Two days on the internet finding obscure goops and gadgets and on the telephone making arrangements for freight and suddenly I'm right back where I was when I had the "First Light" an old carvel cutter from the 20s on  which I learned about seams and caulking of necessity self-taught down in Charleston Oregon and brain-picked from the old timers around Kelly Bros Boatworks and Emery Hanson's shipyard out on the Joe Ney point.
Next week hopefully I will get a chance to actually cork her up and then we will see whether this big-ass rowing boat is going to fill the bill. Or not.