Anchor Juice

That’s odd, I said to myself. It hasn’t rained, yet there’s a cup of water in the bilge.

- Bruce Bateau

I tried to come up with a logical explanation. Ordinarily, the bilge held no more than a few drops. Each morning, as I hauled anchor, I squeezed much of the water out of the rode before stowing it in a large canvas sack. Could condensation have rolled off my cockpit tent and down into Row Bird’s bilge? That quantity seemed unlikely. Aside from water that dripped off my stowed oars, there was no logical source for it. I hadn’t bashed through big waves or wakes, I didn’t dip the rail; and my water jug, thankfully, wasn’t leaking.

So I did what any sane person would do: I cleared away all my dry bags, lifted up one of the floorboards, and tasted the water. Salty.

“Damn!” I yelled.