NUTS & BOATS
The twice monthly newsletter for to-be and already-are cruisers Volume 2, Issue #3 - February 1, 2004
Publisher: Trish Lambert
www.takehersailing.com
(C) P. Lambert 2004
Welcome to our new subscribers! IN THIS ISSUE
THIS ISSUE'S COOL CRUISING QUOTEI know that our bodies were made to thrive only in pure air,
and the scenes in which pure air is found. John Muir
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THIS ISSUE'S CONTRIBUTORS We have two guest contributors for this issue of Nuts & Boats. Mike Turney is a frequent "talker" on The Virtual Anchorage, Take Her Sailing's online discussion board. Contributor #2 is (again) my husband Skip, this time sharing a little whimsy in the form of a companion he has acquired as a result of moving into our new slip.
A (LITTLE) CRUISING CONTROVERSY
Captain Emptor!! by Mike Turney I firmly believe that most if not all of the private yacht "disappearances " in the Bermuda Triangle are not a result of wormholes, or alien abductions, sea floor subsidence, or any of the other romantic explanations that sell sensationalistic books. Rather, they are simple hijackings followed by murder. In the early 70s I was one of several guys who were earning a rather meager but enjoyable living, delivering boats for people caught up in the baby boomer rat race, who only had short period of vacation but who wanted to cruise the Caribbean. They would hire me or one of my peers to take their boat south for them, fly down for vacation, and then either put their boat up for the season down there or have me bring it back to Canada. Great work, lotsa fun, and excellent experience on a variety of boats. This was in the days before the presence of electronic navigation systems that are now so common, nor was there much roller furling on everything. This meant that I was constantly looking for crew to help. I had my usual list of people I knew who were interested, but more often than not I had to look for someone new. My requirements were very simple - someone to stay awake on watch while I slept. I found that every yacht club or marina always had its contingent of sea going hippies who were only too happy to get an opportunity for a free trip to warmer climes. For a couple of years this worked out very well for me, and, I hope, for the occasional crew as well as the owners. Then one very memorable day in the summer of 73 some of the other fellows and I who made deliveries like this were talking over a beer in Toronto, when one of our number drew the others' attention to a news article: The U.S. Coast Guard had stopped a boat from Canada off the coast of Texas that was full of drugs. We all knew the boat and the owner, and more importantly, we were all friends with the delivery skipper who had been hired to take to boat to the British Virgin Islands just a couple of months ago. We saw nothing in the article to about our friend, and, in fact, we knew him to be a real "straight arrow" - no drugs, very law abiding. So we contacted the owner. Turns out our friend was nowhere to be found. However, a CSI-type examination of the boat revealed human blood stains found in several places. Not hard to figure out what happened. Our skipper friend had picked up some "crew" at a marina who decided that it would be very profitable to hijack the yacht, get rid of the captain, then make one or two runs from Central or South America to the U.S. with a cargo of drugs and scuttle the boat. Unfortunately for them they got caught, and in Texas too (a particularly tough state regarding drugs)! We all decided at that point that we would start to check/register any crew we picked up that we didn't know. The process was quite simple - any potential crew were told to meet me at the local police or Coast Guard station, where we would have the authorities photograph and fingerprint everyone, including me! Some people objected (in which case the invitation to crew with me was rescinded) but most went along with the idea when the reason was explained to them. Then we started to have people just not show up at the police station. These were the ones that I found most suspicious and was very glad that I had managed to frighten them off. I only rarely do deliveries any more - older, real job, family, own my own boat and want to sail it, etc., but I often look back at that time and think of my buddy and realize that it could just as easily have been me. There is just too much money in even one load of drugs - we're talking millions in street value. This makes it very tempting for people with no conscience, a great deal of selfishness, and a highly developed feeling that only their well being matters. When you think about it, I'll bet the ocean bottom in the Bermuda Triangle has lots of boats that have just "disappeared" in this way.
DEAD OF WINTER SPECIALHALF HOUR CONSULTING SESSION FREE WITH EBOOKLET PURCHASE These are the times that try many sailors' souls. We look out the window and see snow or rain. We long for a WARM breeze over the port (or starboard) rail that keeps the sails full and the boat shushing through the water. Sigh. For those of you with cabin fever, I have a suggestion: If we can't be out on the boat these days, let's at least TALK about being out on the boat! For the entire month of February, purchase one or more of the Take Her Sailing or Capt'n Pauley ebooklets, and you will get a half hour phone consultation for free. Check out and purchase the ebooklets on offer
A CRUISER'S EYE VIEW
Patrick the Pooping Pelican By Skip RandallWhen Buddy, our mitred conure (a species of parrot), moved off the boat, I definitely felt a void. I missed him. Buddy had been on prolonged loan from his main human, Trish (also my main human), and he went to keep her company during her necessary ordeal in "landlocked purgatory." He had an attitude for sure (as do all parrots), but he was a good companion. The close personal relationship that developed between us gave me a new appreciation for creatures of the feathered kind. I had even considered getting a parrot of my own to keep me company on the boat. Well, as they say, be careful of what you wish for. A few weeks ago I moved the boat to its permanent slip in the marina, way out on the very end of the dock. Nothing behind me but the waters of Rocky Bayou...sweet. (If you are familiar with the Choctawhatchee Bay of the Florida Panhandle, you know what I'm talking about.) As I pulled in and wound up to lasso the near piling, I noticed a large pelican perching on the top. He gave me an indignant look, then took off bayou-ward. Now that I've been in the slip for a few weeks, I've come to realize that this particular piling belongs to that particular pelican. I've named him Patrick the Pooping Pelican (Pat or P-3 for short). He goes off in the morning to do whatever pelicans do during the day, then returns at dusk to roost. He's a robust specimen, XL size-wise, with beautiful buff-white to brown plumage. We had a little dialogue recently. I had scrubber and hose in hand and was busy (you guessed it) cleaning up Patrick's putty-like poop patches, which adorned most exposed topside surfaces. I glanced over at serenely-perched Patrick with a look of consternation and endeavored to explain a few things. One thing was just how much work it is to clean off pelican poop. It's amazingly sturdy stuff, especially after a day or two baking in the sun, and you just don't squirt it off and out the scuppers. You get down on all fours with tuffy pads, scrub brushes and old toothbrushes and go to work. Next, I suggested that perhaps he could consider taking flight to the northwest, towards the bayou, away from the boat, and open up those bomb bay doors over open water. I tempered my tongue at this point, not wishing to unnecessarily piss him off. Patrick's potential for prolific and prolonged pooping is prodigious (as he has thoroughly demonstrated), and I'm not sure if he has a vindictive streak. Our relationship is not just about poop issues and consternation, however. We've established a friendship of sorts, annoying pooping habits notwithstanding (we're working on that aspect). He's no replacement for Buddy, but I do rather enjoy his company, such as it is. We "talk" occasionally while I prepare dinner and I toss off commentary his way up the companionway. He seems to enjoy the scraps of tuna I sometimes toss his way. I was going to add that I hope he sticks around, but I guess that's a given. After all, he was here first, so I'm really the interloper on his domain. And he does add to the beauty and charm off the view off the aft of my boat at sundown.
POSTSCRIPT TO PAUL'S ARTICLE IN ISSUE #2 Gord May, a loyal subscriber and frequent cruiser in The Virtual Anchorage, commented on Paul's article in the last issue of Nuts & Boats, and Paul responded to clarify.
Check out the postscript
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