A father's day to remember and a Crunch to forget.

So much has happened, and so little at the same time. I've been assistant manager at West Marine for a few months now and am enjoying it quite a bit. I haven't had much time to go sailing lately for a few reasons I will discuss, but first it's story time.
It's a day or two before father's day and the wind is perfect, blowing from the west at ten to fifteen, My dad, sister, and I all have the day off, so we make the trip up to the marina and pile onto Cassandra. The plan is to sail up to the Salmon River, have lunch, and then sail back. It is so much different having three people on the boat that know what they're doing. I was able to ready the outboard while Christine hanked the jib on and Dad sorted our supplies.
We motored out into the lake, Dad took the tiller, and I was able to raise the main and jib myself without worrying about how much the boat was falling off, or whether we were going to jibe and kill myself. We fire up the GPS, point just north of the river mouth, and set the sails. I steer most of the way while Christine is riding in her usual spot in the companionway, and Dad sits on the leeward cockpit seat. I can tell by their smiles that they're both loving it. I think that may be one reason sailing with other people is so much more enjoyable.
Less than an hour later we pull into the mouth of the Salmon River and motor towards the break wall, I drop anchor in two feet of water just as the rudder touches the bottom, we back down on it and pull out our lunches. It's a tasty batch of sandwiches that we all share, smiling and chatting in the warm sun while a nice steady breeze keeps us cool and comfortable. While we eat the wind begins to shift to the north a little, so by the time we finish and motor out it's perfect for a starboard tack all the way back. We set the GPS again, and head off. This time Dad takes the tiller and I get to ride the bow over the waves under full sail, something I have never gotten to do on my own boat before. I remembered why I love sailing that day.
We sail on like that for another hour or so and come to the mouth of Little Salmon River. Dad and I decide we want to try to sail in. I've done it alone once before because I dimply don't like to use the outboard in the lake. Jackson is a short shaft, and doesn't always stay in the water; something I've never been comfortable with. So I just get sail up as soon as possible and take it down as late as possible. Anyway, we're sailing in, and this father and son are out kayaking. It's kind of obvious the son has done it before and the father hasn't. They're right in the middle of the entrance when the father rolls his kayak and falls out. He looks like he's having a hard time of it and he's drifting down the coast. Dad is on the tiller so I can drop the main, the jib is already down and tied up on the foredeck.
We get in without further difficulty, I drop the main and kick the outboard on. Dad turns to call to a passing powerboat that a kayaker rolled in the entrance and he might need help, unfortunately, Dad doesn't turn around as soon as this message is relayed and we start to drift out of the channel. I see it, and try to get his attention but it's too late, the mast crashes into a branch hanging overhead and we stop dead. I try to back out, but we're stuck fast. I climb onto the shrouds and shake the boat with the outboard it full reverse. Nothing. I'm confused, it looks like we should just be able to break free and back out, but for some reason it's not happening. I think, "we can't be aground, the depth sounder is saying five feet, we can anchor in three and be fine... Maybe Jackson just isn't up to the task, he's never been particularly powerful in reverse." Christine is down below getting into her swimsuit to check things out from in the water.
Just then a DEC boat comes up alongside with a big seventy horse outboard and asks if we'd like a tow. I'm still thinking we can get it ourselves, but dad thinks it's a good idea and I finally decide, yes, we'll get unstuck faster this way. They throw us a line and kick it into full reverse. We move a little, but not enough. They try again, nothing. So they swing around and try pulling in forward. That does it. After a few tries at full power a huge crunching crack sounds through the hull and a tree branch drops into the water. We're floating on our own again and start to motor back to the slip. I take the tiller from dad who's feeling very guilty. The boat feels sluggish as I steer. It's then I look down and see the centerboard is still down... all six feet of it... I pull the rope, it comes up slowly then jams half way. I think, "uh-oh.. hopefuly it's just a root or something wedged." I let go of the rope, expecting the board to drop back down and shake the root loose. Nothing happens. "shit..." We get to the dock, I get the boat hook and poke around at the board. I can feel something wedged along the side of the board. It feels like the pendant, but I can't figure out how it would get there. I manage to get the board unstuck, the climb back in and pull it up, it wedges again. "Not good.." The was a time in there I'm leaving out in there where we all think the board may have broken off and go walk around in the water where we went aground looking for it. We found nothing but a very deep trench where the centerboard wedged as the boat tried to pull us out.
Don is there tending to his marina and suggests we take the boat out into clear water and dive on it, we do. I can tell something is very wrong. The boat is slow and steers funny. We get out into the lake, drop anchor in fifteen feet of water, and I get in. I don't even have to go under, my feet touch the board as I hang off the gunwale, and I feel a jagged edge. We've snapped the board... somehow it's all still there, but badly cracked for sure. Dad feels terrible. He's offered to pay any repair fees. We get home and order a new board, new mounting hardware, the works. And that's where things stayed.. for two months.