The rope had caught beneath the wheel, winding around it like a power winch, pulling the kayak down with it. I backed the car a few feet and Rebecca pulled the rope out, but the boat still angled downward. The roof rail had pulled one nut right through the roof, and ripped out of another. The clothesline we’d tied the stern with had snapped. Fortunately. Something had to give, and it could have been the boat -- in pieces, all over the road. We tied it all back together as well as we could and headed down the road... carefully. At Nate’s house, we added a strap around the whole thing, running it through the doors and inside the car. That held it. We proceeded to the launch.
The irony is that I’m extremely careful and worrisome when it comes to car-topping kayaks. The bow and stern lines, which are essential on a shorter roof, turned-out to be the weak link. So we’ll figure-out a system that can’t get beneath the wheels if it fails. In the meantime, well, I installed the rack myself, so I can fix it. More holes to drill, a little Bondo: no problem.
Then we splashed around a bit among the rosy pink granite slots and ledges on the east sides of Little Gott and Black. We were eager to hear details from Nate’s five-star training trip to Scotland, which he provided in bits and pieces as we made our way to Little Black Island for lunch.
We meandered back, making a big “figure-8” route: north around Black, south around the Gotts. The waves had settled-down over the bar by the time we headed back across, and we drove home without further mishap.