The Boat Ramp: A Playground for Maritime Geniuses

The boat ramp is a special place. A place where confidence goes to be tested. 

First, the classic manoeuvre: a boat trailer reversing down the ramp. The driver heroically attempts not to kiss the trailer next door. Back and forth. Not straight. Back and forth. Still not straight. Back and forth. Definitely worse. Back and forth… eventually, through sheer persistence and mild panic, success is declared.

Now it’s time to get the boat off the trailer—using a rope approximately long enough to lasso a small planet. Somehow, the boat is pushed into the water, dragged sideways at a right angle (!?!?), then wrestled back to the beach like an uncooperative sea creature. This entire performance is repeated in reverse at the end of the day, usually with a larger audience.

Recently, I witnessed a new level of genius. A speedboat launch, untethered. The driver reversed swiftly down the ramp and then slammed on the brakes, allowing physics to take the wheel. The boat, powered purely by momentum and faith, slid majestically off the trailer. Applause felt appropriate.

Then there are the elite athletes. The boating gymnast/rodeo rider. They drive the boat straight onto the trailer, leave the engine running, leap over the bow, balance on the trailer struts, hook it up, and wind it in—all in one fluid, balletic movement. Poetry in motion. Honestly, this should be an Olympic sport.

Of course, failure is part of success. Like reversing down the boat ramp and suddenly remembering the transom straps are still on. Or the time the boat’s on the ramp, engine down, and the battery chooses that exact moment to die. Or when someone realises—too late—that the engine wasn’t lifted as their mate drives up the ramp. Or reaching the ramp at the end of the day and realising the transom straps are not in the car… because you left them on the back step of the boat, where they now live at the bottom of the river. And let’s not forget the people stuck on the ramp, pulling and pulling and pulling, silently begging the engine to start. Until finally—SPLUTTER. A heroic cloud of dark grey smoke. The engine catches. Game on.

Small prices to pay for enjoying our beautiful waterways. Of course, all of this could be avoided if your boat were moored. No ramp. No audience. Just climb on, climb off… and miss out on all the entertainment.