"Ouch, Charlie!"

If Windleblo could talk, she would say, “That really hurt, Charlie!” That’s because two days ago, Windleblo had an “Ouch, Charlie!” moment.

We crossed into the Aland Archipelago around Noon Tuesday, headed for the island of Kӧkar (pronounced “chol-kah”), which boasts Finalnd’s southernmost community. On the way, we stopped on Kӓllskӓr Island (stern anchor, bow-to rock) to see an interesting estate built in the 1950’s by a Swedish baron who fell in love with the archipelago lifestyle. With help from the locals, he turned the marshy interior of the small island into a delightful oasis fashioned after Mediterrean villas, complete with a central cabin surrounded by beautiful lawns and gardens adorned with alabaster statues. As the story goes, the baron loved to entertain, but insisted his visitors put in a day’s work before the evening feast. As an added bonus, we viewed a famous geologic feature – the oldest rock in Finland – during our two-hour walking tour of the island.

From Kӓllskӓr, we ran dead downwind the final ten miles to Kӧkar’s north harbor and Sandvik marina where we took a berth at the end of the dock, bow-to with stern mooring ball hook. We quickly put our Brompton bicycles ashore and pedaled three kilometers to the site of an old Franciscan monastery. Returning to the boat, we prepared breakfast for dinner, enjoying scrabbled eggs and toast, accompanied by a fresh mozarella and tomato salad. We turned in at sunset, which is coming earlier and earlier now, 10 p.m. this night.

The next day – Wednesday, July 27th – we tackled chores in the morning, Jocelyn handled laundry, Jack a deck scrub. Then, it was off for a ten kilometer pedal to an interesting cider house on the other end of the island. There, we enjoyed a delicious roast beef and potato salad lunch and some interesting conversation with Raisa, a Finnish woman from Espo who was on a ferry/bicycle tour of the islands during her holiday. She introduced herself after noticing our entry in the cider house guest register. It turns out she had lived for six years in Boulder and planned a visit there in September. We told her to look us up then.

After our visit with Raisa, we bicycled back to the marina. That’s when we learned of Windleblo’s “Ouch, Charlie!” moment.

As we arrived at the end of the dock, I noticed a white haired gentleman in a dinghy behind my boat. I wondered what he was up to and soon learned. As I was folding our bicycles to take them on board, he and his wife approached us.

“Are you the owner of this boat?” he said in English with a heavy German accent.

“I hope so,” I replied, always the joker. “I plan on sleeping on it tonight.”

“Well, we are very sorry but when I was docking the wind pushed my boat,” he said, both he and his wife looking very dour.

Still not quite getting what he was trying to tell me, I said,”Oh, well, that’s too bad.”

“We are afraid the…um, I’m not sure of the English word,um…is affected,” he said, and then uttered a German word incomprehensible to me in an attempt to explain.

Grasping the gravity of the situation, Jocelyn cut in, figuratively kicking me in the shin, saying, “Jack, he’s trying to tell you he ran into our boat.”

That’s when I said, “Well, let me have a look,” and we proceeded to put the bikes in the dinghy and row around to our stern.

There, we viewed the effects of the collision. In his attempt to dock next to us, the German had run his bow into the middle of our transom, gashing the gelcoat above the upper swim step and gouging out a chunk of the teak toerail just to starboard of the aft shroud attachment plate. Our stern morring hook was also bent. All very ugly.

I tried to stay cool, thinking, “These things happen.The shoe could easily have been on the other foot.”

We boarded the boat, and after a bit, I hailed him on his boat. “Why don’t you and your wife come to our boat in half an hour for drinks and we can talk about it?” He gratefully accepted our gesture.

Arriving on board, they settled into the cockpit seats and introduced themselves as Dr. and Mrs. Hermann Schiele of Hamburg, Germany. By way of introduction, I handed them a boat card and pointed out our blog address, saying “Jocelyn has already thought of the title for our next blog entry.“ They stared back curiously.

“What is it going to be, Jocelyn?” I said.

“Ouch, Charlie!” Jocelyn said. And we explained the gist of the most watched YouTube video of all time.

Dr. and Mrs. Schiele were cruising the Baltic in their Malo 35, Shalom, with two friends in a second boat who also joined us for drinks. We had a friendly chat, comparing experiences and talking of the pleasures of the cruising life.

After an appropriate period, I said, “Well, I think we need to talk about ‘Ouch, Charlie!’ What do you think appropriate under the circumstances?”

Dr. Schiele’s friend from the second boat quickly said, “Well, I have an exceptional bottle of Irish whisky bought directly from the source while cruising Ireland in 2007.”

Dr. Schiele added, “And I have two bottles of exceptional German wine to offer as well.”

Dr. Schiele’s friend said,”Will you accept this offer?”

After a brief pause, I said, “Well that is a very kind offer. However, not knowing with any certainty how much it might cost to bring my new boat back into its previous condition, I am afraid I cannot accept it.”

They waited expectantly.

“It seems," I said, "it would be appropriate for you to pay for the repairs, which I will have done at the Hallberg-Rassy boatyard in the fall.”

Dr. Schiele’s friend said, “So you want to get the insurance company involved?”

“That’s up to you,” I said.

Dr. Schiele’s wife, looking relieved, said, “I think that’s best.”

And Dr. Schiele instantly rose, went to his boat, and called his insurance agent. Within a half an hour, I had an email in my inbox from Dr. Schiele’s insurance company requesting that I complete and return a claim form.

We closed amicably, with them expressing appreciation for our good humor. It seemed they were relieved with the way we handled their misfortune.

Jocelyn and I then departed for an hour in the sauna where we sweated out our angst, thinking, “Ouch, Charlie! That really hurt!!”