I know why
he’s asking. For some reason, Americans,
more than any other nation on earth, love ice. We use it in big chunks in
iceboxes, and in small chunks under our oysters, and in medium sized chunks in
our cocktails.
The
phlegmatic British will drink their beer warm if necessary. Indeed, some
actually prefer it that way. They say that chilling it inhibits the volatile
vapors that give beer its best flavor. The French don’t need ice for their wine
and the Canadians are quite happy to suffer in silence for the sheer joy of
sailing. But Americans need ice.
That means
two things:
1. You’d
better be able to fix your reefer yourself if you plan to cruise to
less-developed countries.
2. You’ll
never have to wonder what to do with your spare time.
You can buy
a 12-volt refrigeration system to fit an icebox that will draw nearly 6 amps at
full load. That means you can run it flat out for about 7 hours on a
100-amp-hour battery before you need to start recharging, according to the
40-percent rule.
For a bit
more, you can buy what is probably the most popular system among American
long-distance cruisers, the holding-plate system. This requires a compressor coupled to your
engine or a separate generator that needs to be run for about two hours a day.
One way or
another, you pay quite dearly for ice on a small boat. If you can train yourself to do without it
you will lead a happier life, with more time to enjoy the people and scenery
around you.
It’s true
that nothing brings more joy to the heart of a sweaty sailor than the tinkle of
ice in a tall glass. But if you can’t
make ice yourself, there is an alternative. Look around the anchorage for a
boat flying Old Glory. Most American boats have ice. And Americans have a
well-earned reputation for generosity.
If there’s one thing more joyful than the sound of ice in your glass,
it’s the sound of someone else’s ice in your glass.
Today’s Thought
The Americans are a funny lot; they drink
whiskey to keep them warm; then they put some ice in it to make it cool; they
put some sugar in it to make it sweet, and then they put a slice of lemon in it
to make it sour. Then they say “Here’s to you” and drink it themselves.— B. N. Chakravarty, India Speaks to America.
Tailpiece
“Waiter, there’s a fly in my soup.”(12) “It’s OK, sir, I know that one. He can swim.”
(Drop by
every Monday, Wednesday, Friday for a new Mainly about Boats column.)
1 comment:
John, today's piece on the love affair of ice by America brought a smile to my face. Having spent the best part of a quarter of a century just above the 49th parallel, (I have now returned to Blighty), made me realize I too was infatuated with ice. I have come to terms that I can make do without. I did it cold turkey, i.e. went sailing with friends in the U.K. When I did on one occasion raise the issue of ice or even "ice Cold" beer I was viewed with maybe not out right hostility, but at least visible suspicion. Oh well, "When in Rome......" Cheers, Jack
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