About fifteen years ago my step father, who passed away last fall, had to cut loose his anchor in the Nantucket Sound when it got tangled on something. This was on a 46' motor catamaran that he had taken up to Northern Maine and down to the British Virgin Islands. I thought he'd be pissed off, but he just said, "I'll come back and get it tomorrow." I thought he was joking. But the next day he loaded his scuba gear on the boat and we headed out toward the pin he'd set on the GPS. It took him about an hour to find the thing, dislodge it, rig it onto the winch, haul it up and refasten it properly.
But he wasn't your average boater. He raced small sail boats for the Italian Navy, raced large sailboats with the Italian Prime Minister, designed yachts in Viareggio, and created the first commercially available GPS system. The aforementioned boat had a wing that was too tall to fit under a bridge between the Sound and his house at high tide.... so he cut it off and fabricated a new one that could be raised and lowered. He thought cutting his anchor loose and going back to find it later was fucking fun. Excellent skier too:
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Here he is at 70 and full of cancer after he said to me, "I think I want to go ski that one more time:"
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Weird taste in ski clothes, though. And not much of a fisherman. But he was good at driving the boat while other people caught fish. RIP