She Got The House... AND My Boat

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Some laws are fundamental, like gravity and pre-nups — unbreakable, right? My wife's lawyer proved me wrong.

And gravity?

Have you ever heard of the incredible reverse tides of the mighty Saint John?

Neither had I until after I'd rented a fully-equipped Bayliner 245 and invited my oldest brother, Luc, on a fishing trip. Things went crabwise when Jean, at the dock, spoke up as I stepped onto the deck.

"Hey, Pierre. Don't rush, eh? You're not goin' nowhere till slacktide."

We watched the river pour inland at 12 miles per hour.

"And these here tides, are the highest in the world."

"No shit, eh?" Luc replied to Jean while handing me a Moosehead.

Luc took over Dad's commercial boat. His hands were gnarled, and he had no patience for metaphors. Quint, without a beard.

Even with the throttle pushed, it was noon before we made it through the harbour. The sun was persistent. Luc dug into the cooler and waved a cold one at me.

I shook my head as I fussed with my gear.

Luc groaned as I struggled with my lure. "You're driving me fucking nuts, Pierre."

I persisted. And...

We managed to catch two stripers, then an eel. And laughed over the slimy absurdity of it all. But by the time we turned back, the fog had swallowed the planet.

Air and water dissolved into a seamless haze. The famous foghorn began to moan — and I began to worry.

Luc set his beer down, turned on the GPS and showed me how the radar sweep mapped the channel.

"That horn is for fucking tourists, little brother. Radar is for men who want to eat dinner at home tonight."

I looked at my big brother and grinned.

"Wanna beer?"

The foghorn echoed.

Luc shook his head.

"Not while I'm steering. Did I ever tell you the time we got pulled over by the fucking coast guard?

• Open mic. Beaches, landlubber... or both?

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