Truth or Consequences (1 of 2)

June 22, 2011 at 11:07 am · Filed under Crazy stuff, Mostly true, Stories ·Tagged author, Charles L. Mashburn, elephant butte reservoir, sailing, story, thunderstorm, truth or consequences new mexico, writer

The boat was huddled with a mass of others in the eerily quiet marina. The waters were perfectly calm. We were asleep, and scattered about the cabin like the drunken sailors we were. Yesterday.

My brother, Ken, his wife, Jackie, and I had been on Elephant Butte reservoir for four days, and our beer consumption had, no doubt, matched the fuel guzzled by my brother’s jet boat. We were, to say the least, having a grand time, skiing, swimming, and partying like wild folk.

Elephant Butte is located near the town of Truth or Consequences, New Mexico (I ain’t lyin’, that’s the name of the town) about 150 miles due south of Albuquerque, on highway 85. It’s smack in the middle of the desert, but seeing as how it was the closest lake of any size to where we lived—Albuquerque—it was the one we frequented back in the mid-eighties, while we were living in the fine state of New Mexico.

We’d run across some friends the day before at about three in the afternoon, and they’d invited us to take a spin on their thirty foot sail boat. Their boat might have been bigger than that, but seeing as how I know very little about sailboats, and my memory of theirs is vague, at best, we’ll go with that number.

Something you need to know about central New Mexico, is that in the summer, a thunderstorm blows in every day at about 3:30 P.M.; you can almost set your watch by it. The day before we awoke in the cabin of our friend’s boat (we’re in the one third from the left) was to be no different, although the storm was more violent than usual.

We ran Ken’s jet boat up onto the beach at our campground then swam out and climbed onto the sailboat. It was a nice boat, and we lounged on the deck as we skimmed across the lake, being pushed by a gentle wind. Already well into our beer supply for the day, Ken and I gladly accepted the offer to help ourselves to cold ones from the topside ice chest. They assured us there was plenty more below and in their room at the nearby motel.

The afternoon storm blew in right on schedule, and for whatever reason, our friend decided to ride it out in the open water, rather than make a run for the marina. We didn’t give a big rat’s butt, so we helped them lower the sails, and we’d just gotten things secured when the storm hit with unexpected fury. Every one dove below to ride it out in the relative safety of the cabin. Except me and Ken.            To be continued! Click here to read part two now —-> PART TWO

This story was submitted to Bluebell Books’ Short Story Slam #3, June 22, 2011

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