NO DOUBT ABOUT IT, the best stuff to cook on is gas. It has problems, though. Liquid petroleum gas is heavier than air and it’s explosive.
I remember smelling gas when I woke up one morning on a 72-foot ketch in Ramsgate, England. It was during the dog days of summer, dead calm. We fixed the gas leak and tip-toed around softly so as to cause no sparks, and waited for a breeze to ventilate the bilges.
We had a 12-volt bilge blower, but neither Gary, the skipper, nor I, the mate, wanted to risk switching it on.
“They’re supposed to be spark-free,” said Gary, “but …”
“Yeah, it only takes one spark,” I said.
Eventually, after considering everything, we decided to bail the gas out. Soon the residents of Ramsgate were treated to a strange spectacle. The crew of Thelma II would appear on deck one after another and solemnly pour seemingly empty buckets into the harbor. In true British fashion, the locals were too polite to enquire about this lunatic ritual.
After 45 minutes we figured it was good enough. We all went ashore except for Gary, who bravely flipped the switch for the blower. We saw his hand move. There was no explosion. He grinned widely.
“All r-i-g-h-t!” We cheered and yelled from the dockside.
The locals shook their heads and pretended to be watching seagulls.
Today’s Thought
I adore life but I don’t fear death. I just prefer to die as late as possible.
—(the late) Georges Simenon, International Herald Tribune
Tailpiece
“Waiter, there’s a fly in my soup.”
“Sorry, sir, the chef used to be a tailor.”
April 30, 2009
April 28, 2009
Duct tape to the rescue
IT’S A MINOR MIRACLE, I admit, but only twice in my life have I punctured an inflatable dinghy. The first time, I sat down heavily and unexpectedly on the side float with a forgotten screwdriver in the back pocket of my jeans. Ruined the jeans, too.
The second time, my borrowed sloop was moored to a buoy off Hope Island, a state park in Puget Sound. I noticed that the current had gathered a large clump of seaweed around the mooring line, so I jumped into the inflatable with a sharp knife to cut the weed loose. I stabbed the dinghy instead.
In both cases it was duct tape that saved the day until permanent repairs could be made. Professionals frown on duct tape, as they frown on Vise-Grips and adjustable wrenches, but for amateurs like me it’s a godsend.
I read somewhere that duct tape was developed in the 1930s to seal ammunition boxes, but I have my doubts about that. I think it’s more likely that it was invented to seal metal ventilation ducts, and, having been invented, quickly found a million other uses.
On boats it does everything from repairing book covers to patching split sails. It fixes holes in water pipes and it makes an effective gag for garrulous crewmembers.
Of course, repairs with duct tape are meant to be purely temporary. But temporary, when you think about it, is just a state of mind, not a period of time. So relax. That's why we all like duct tape. You don’t need to replace your old duct tape with new duct tape until the old duct tape actually falls off.
Today’s Thought
Humans can learn to like anything, that’s why we are such a successful species.
—Jeanette Desor
Tailpiece
“I see you’ve stopped playing poker with Fred on Friday nights.”
“Yeah, well, would you play with a guy who hides aces up his sleeve and refuses to pay his debts?”
“Certainly not.”
“Neither will Fred.”
The second time, my borrowed sloop was moored to a buoy off Hope Island, a state park in Puget Sound. I noticed that the current had gathered a large clump of seaweed around the mooring line, so I jumped into the inflatable with a sharp knife to cut the weed loose. I stabbed the dinghy instead.
In both cases it was duct tape that saved the day until permanent repairs could be made. Professionals frown on duct tape, as they frown on Vise-Grips and adjustable wrenches, but for amateurs like me it’s a godsend.
I read somewhere that duct tape was developed in the 1930s to seal ammunition boxes, but I have my doubts about that. I think it’s more likely that it was invented to seal metal ventilation ducts, and, having been invented, quickly found a million other uses.
On boats it does everything from repairing book covers to patching split sails. It fixes holes in water pipes and it makes an effective gag for garrulous crewmembers.
Of course, repairs with duct tape are meant to be purely temporary. But temporary, when you think about it, is just a state of mind, not a period of time. So relax. That's why we all like duct tape. You don’t need to replace your old duct tape with new duct tape until the old duct tape actually falls off.
Today’s Thought
Humans can learn to like anything, that’s why we are such a successful species.
—Jeanette Desor
Tailpiece
“I see you’ve stopped playing poker with Fred on Friday nights.”
“Yeah, well, would you play with a guy who hides aces up his sleeve and refuses to pay his debts?”
“Certainly not.”
“Neither will Fred.”
April 26, 2009
The battle of the polys
THERE’S ALWAYS SOMEONE who knows better than the experts. My friend Sam Psmythe (silent P, as in bath) is one such man. He read on some bulletin board that the best sealant for deck fittings is butyl rubber. Despite my protests, he is going to re-bed all his lifeline stanchions in butyl rubber tape, gawd help us.
Now butyl rubber is actually polyisobutylene, very good stuff when you use it in the right applications. It would make a good sealant if the stanchion base didn’t move relative to the deck. But you know what people are like. Always flopping around on deck, falling against the lifelines and straining the stanchion bases. Now, butyl tape lacks the necessary adhesive power, so, as soon as a gap appears between the base and the deck, water will gallop in and trouble will soon follow it.
What you need for most deck fittings is a bedding that not only remains flexible, but also has tenacious adhesive qualities, so that it sticks to both the stanchion base and the deck like sh*t to a blanket, as those rude Australians say. Then, as the base moves under stain, the bedding sealant simply stretches momentarily without letting any water underneath.
The expert I have in mind in these matters is an acquaintance of mine called Don Casey, the man who wrote This Old Boat, the boat repairer’s bible.
Here are the three main bedding sealants according to Casey:
►Polysulphide is what he’d use for deck fittings. It’s available in single and double packs. Twin packs cure more quickly. Use it for all kinds of sealing and bedding except for plastics. It will melt plastics. Polysulphide remains pliant and adheres very nicely to each side of the joint, although you can remove the fitting without too much trouble when necessary. It’s good for caulking wooden deck seams, and you can paint or varnish over it.
►Polyurethane is another good sealant, but it’s also a very strong glue. So use it for permanent joints only. Don’t use urethane on fittings you might want to remove later. Don’t use it on plastics such as Lexan or ABS, either. You might be able to paint over some polyurethanes, but not most of them. Check the instructions.
►Silcone is a good bedding compound and sealant that you can use on almost anything, including plastics. Most silicones are not particularly good adhesives. Better than butyl, though. Some new silicone formulations have better sticking power and might be difficult to remove at some later stage. It makes good gaskets, but you can’t paint or varnish over it.
So there you have it. If you trust Mr Casey more than Mr. Psmythe, as you should, your course is clear. Forget the butyl. Grab the polysulphide.
Today’s Thought
An expert is somebody who is more than 50 miles from home, has no responsibility for implementing the advice he gives, and shows slides.
—Edwin Meese 3rd
Tailpiece
“What’s the penalty for bigamy in Utah?”
“Multiple mothers-in-law.”
Now butyl rubber is actually polyisobutylene, very good stuff when you use it in the right applications. It would make a good sealant if the stanchion base didn’t move relative to the deck. But you know what people are like. Always flopping around on deck, falling against the lifelines and straining the stanchion bases. Now, butyl tape lacks the necessary adhesive power, so, as soon as a gap appears between the base and the deck, water will gallop in and trouble will soon follow it.
What you need for most deck fittings is a bedding that not only remains flexible, but also has tenacious adhesive qualities, so that it sticks to both the stanchion base and the deck like sh*t to a blanket, as those rude Australians say. Then, as the base moves under stain, the bedding sealant simply stretches momentarily without letting any water underneath.
The expert I have in mind in these matters is an acquaintance of mine called Don Casey, the man who wrote This Old Boat, the boat repairer’s bible.
Here are the three main bedding sealants according to Casey:
►Polysulphide is what he’d use for deck fittings. It’s available in single and double packs. Twin packs cure more quickly. Use it for all kinds of sealing and bedding except for plastics. It will melt plastics. Polysulphide remains pliant and adheres very nicely to each side of the joint, although you can remove the fitting without too much trouble when necessary. It’s good for caulking wooden deck seams, and you can paint or varnish over it.
►Polyurethane is another good sealant, but it’s also a very strong glue. So use it for permanent joints only. Don’t use urethane on fittings you might want to remove later. Don’t use it on plastics such as Lexan or ABS, either. You might be able to paint over some polyurethanes, but not most of them. Check the instructions.
►Silcone is a good bedding compound and sealant that you can use on almost anything, including plastics. Most silicones are not particularly good adhesives. Better than butyl, though. Some new silicone formulations have better sticking power and might be difficult to remove at some later stage. It makes good gaskets, but you can’t paint or varnish over it.
So there you have it. If you trust Mr Casey more than Mr. Psmythe, as you should, your course is clear. Forget the butyl. Grab the polysulphide.
Today’s Thought
An expert is somebody who is more than 50 miles from home, has no responsibility for implementing the advice he gives, and shows slides.
—Edwin Meese 3rd
Tailpiece
“What’s the penalty for bigamy in Utah?”
“Multiple mothers-in-law.”
April 23, 2009
Cooking under way
THE NEW KID on the block came back from a weekend cruise in the islands with a burning question: how do you cook under way? He has a 26-foot sailboat, with an alcohol-fueled double-burner stove, but no gimbals. One chilly day, he had to beat for eight hours in heavy winds and a contrary current. “I could have killed for a hot cup of soup,” he said, “but we couldn’t keep anything on the stove with any degree of safety.”
Most small sailboats don’t have swinging room for a properly gimbaled stove, of course, so cooking is limited to calm water in anchorages. And even there it’s possible to have a nasty accident when an unthinking powerboater comes past dragging a huge wake.
The answer to this dilemma is to invest in one of those single-burner stoves in gimbals that fastens to a bulkhead. You might find it difficult to find one of the original Sea Swing stoves, the aluminum ones that had a place for a kerosene Primus stove to hang underneath, but you can still buy a new Seacook made by Kuuma/Force10.
The Seacooks use the ubiquituous 16.4-ounce propane canisters and stow out of the way until you fit them to a low-profile bulkhead mount. They’ll take a 7-inch-diameter cooking pot. Forespar makes a similar Mini Galley 2000 stove, and both will give you about 3 1/2 hours of very convenient cooking at full blast.
These swinging single-burners are very welcome aboard small ocean cruising yachts, of course, but the cook will need either lessons in one-pot cooking or a large stock of those ready-to-eat entrées that need only be immersed in boiling water.
Meanwhile, here’s a simple, classic, one-pot recipe for onion soup. It came from British naval Commander E. G. Martin whose soup was the object of frequent praise aboard his famous cutter, Jolie Brise, which won the first Fastnet Race in 1925:
“Place four medium-large onions, peeled and cut into quarters, into a covered saucepan with 3 to 4 cups cold water. Add 2 tablespoons Bovril (or other strong beef stock) 4 ounces butter, a dessertspoonful of Lea & Perrins Worcestershire sauce, a little black pepper, and (when the cooking is nearly done) a small glass of sherry or rather more white wine. Boil gently for 30 minutes or until the onions have fallen to pieces and are soft, stirring occasionally.”
This recipe makes enough for four to six people but it may be rather too glutinous for modern arteries, so I reduce the butter to 2 ounces and substitute 5 beef stock (bouillon) cubes for the Bovril. It’s still delicious and highly comforting on a cold stormy day.
Resources:
►Sea Swing stoves: Check Craig’s list or eBay for used models. Google “Classic Camp Stoves” for a forum on traditional old stoves and spare parts.
►Kuuma/Force 10 Seacook stoves and Forespar Mini Galley 2000 stoves: Google for list of current suppliers and prices.
Today’s Thought
I believe that if ever I had to practice cannibalism, I might manage if there were enough tarragon around.
—Jean Marie Amat
Tailpiece
“Doctor is it true that if you never drink, smoke, or run around after women, you’ll live longer?”
“I’m afraid we’ll never know until someone tries it.”
Most small sailboats don’t have swinging room for a properly gimbaled stove, of course, so cooking is limited to calm water in anchorages. And even there it’s possible to have a nasty accident when an unthinking powerboater comes past dragging a huge wake.
The answer to this dilemma is to invest in one of those single-burner stoves in gimbals that fastens to a bulkhead. You might find it difficult to find one of the original Sea Swing stoves, the aluminum ones that had a place for a kerosene Primus stove to hang underneath, but you can still buy a new Seacook made by Kuuma/Force10.
The Seacooks use the ubiquituous 16.4-ounce propane canisters and stow out of the way until you fit them to a low-profile bulkhead mount. They’ll take a 7-inch-diameter cooking pot. Forespar makes a similar Mini Galley 2000 stove, and both will give you about 3 1/2 hours of very convenient cooking at full blast.
These swinging single-burners are very welcome aboard small ocean cruising yachts, of course, but the cook will need either lessons in one-pot cooking or a large stock of those ready-to-eat entrées that need only be immersed in boiling water.
Meanwhile, here’s a simple, classic, one-pot recipe for onion soup. It came from British naval Commander E. G. Martin whose soup was the object of frequent praise aboard his famous cutter, Jolie Brise, which won the first Fastnet Race in 1925:
“Place four medium-large onions, peeled and cut into quarters, into a covered saucepan with 3 to 4 cups cold water. Add 2 tablespoons Bovril (or other strong beef stock) 4 ounces butter, a dessertspoonful of Lea & Perrins Worcestershire sauce, a little black pepper, and (when the cooking is nearly done) a small glass of sherry or rather more white wine. Boil gently for 30 minutes or until the onions have fallen to pieces and are soft, stirring occasionally.”
This recipe makes enough for four to six people but it may be rather too glutinous for modern arteries, so I reduce the butter to 2 ounces and substitute 5 beef stock (bouillon) cubes for the Bovril. It’s still delicious and highly comforting on a cold stormy day.
Resources:
►Sea Swing stoves: Check Craig’s list or eBay for used models. Google “Classic Camp Stoves” for a forum on traditional old stoves and spare parts.
►Kuuma/Force 10 Seacook stoves and Forespar Mini Galley 2000 stoves: Google for list of current suppliers and prices.
Today’s Thought
I believe that if ever I had to practice cannibalism, I might manage if there were enough tarragon around.
—Jean Marie Amat
Tailpiece
“Doctor is it true that if you never drink, smoke, or run around after women, you’ll live longer?”
“I’m afraid we’ll never know until someone tries it.”
April 21, 2009
How to heave to
I HEAR SOME GRUMBLING among the groundlings. They’re complaining that my recent offerings have been too flighty, too airy-fairy. They want more meat and less gravy. Very well, then. Here in plain simple language devoid of all literary merit, apt metaphor, or clever allusion, is the straight dope about how to heave to.
First, though, we should ask WHEN you need to heave to. The answer is that you should heave to whenever you want to slow or stop your sailboat in such a manner that she will look after herself quietly and competently while you reef the mainsail, pump the bilges, take compass bearings, prepare some food on the stove, or catch a nap down below.
Obviously, the ability to heave to will be more useful if you regularly singlehand your boat. It’s especially useful when the wind pipes up. In a moderate gale of 30 knots or so, your boat will usually lie quite safely, riding the seas like a duck with her head tucked under her wing, pointing about 50 or 60 degrees away from the wind direction.
The amount of sail you should carry when heaving to depends on the wind strength. You can heave to under all plain sail in 15 to 18 knots but in a moderate gale a sloop would be down to a storm jib and a close-reefed mainsail.
To heave to, you need to get the foresail counterbalancing the mainsail. To achieve that, you can trim the sails for a beat and simply pull the jib sheet to weather until the sail is backed. An easier way to do it is to sail on the port tack and then go about without touching the foresail sheet. As soon as the bow has passed through the eye of the wind and way is off the boat, push the tiller down to leeward and lash it there, or turn the wheel as if you were about to tack once more. At the same time, give the mainsheet generous slack. You will now be hove to on the starboard tack and have the right of way.
If you’ve previously been crashing and bashing through fierce head seas you’ll now be astonished at how quietly and obediently she lies. You’ll be drifting sideways and moving forward at between one and two knots, but your average course over the ground will be more-or-less at right angles to the wind direction.
When you first heave to, you should experiment with the sheeting position of the mainsail. Find where it lies quietly in the lee of the foresail without driving the boat forward too much. You can point up into the wind more by trimming the mainsail in toward the center of the boat and/or by giving the foresail sheet a little slack. Conversely, you can get her to lie farther off the wind by slacking the main sheet and/or pulling the foresail farther to weather of the mast.
Incidentally, it doesn’t help much to practice heaving to in very light weather. Few boats will behave with any decency under those conditions and you will unnecessarily frustrated. Try it first with a full-sail breeze, and if you have a roller-reefing foresail, roll it up to 100 percent fore-triangle area before you heave to. Most boats that are hove to properly will move forward in little scallops, alternately pointing up slightly and falling off slightly.
You should be aware that some fin-keel boats, especially ultralight fin-keelers, are more difficult to heave to. They can be very finicky about the areas of sail drawing before and behind the mast, which have to balance each other, and they often require frequent adjustments. When the fin keel is not moving forward through the water it is basically stalled, which allows the boat to slip sideways at a great rate. This is not necessarily a bad thing, especially if it leaves a smooth slick to windward that tends to break up big seas before they reach the boat, but it’s something to be aware of if there is land to leeward.
That’s about as much help as I can give you. Every boat is different, and you need to experiment to find out how your particular boat handles best. But if you follow the principles given above you will have a good head-start. It’s worth your effort. Heaving to is a basic requirement of good seamanship. It’s also a very satisfying trick to know.
Today’s Thought
He who commands the sea has command of everything.
—Themistocles
Tailpiece
“What do you want to be when you finish college?”
“I’ve half a mind to become a politician.”
“Well, you’ll be better equipped than most of them.”
First, though, we should ask WHEN you need to heave to. The answer is that you should heave to whenever you want to slow or stop your sailboat in such a manner that she will look after herself quietly and competently while you reef the mainsail, pump the bilges, take compass bearings, prepare some food on the stove, or catch a nap down below.
Obviously, the ability to heave to will be more useful if you regularly singlehand your boat. It’s especially useful when the wind pipes up. In a moderate gale of 30 knots or so, your boat will usually lie quite safely, riding the seas like a duck with her head tucked under her wing, pointing about 50 or 60 degrees away from the wind direction.
The amount of sail you should carry when heaving to depends on the wind strength. You can heave to under all plain sail in 15 to 18 knots but in a moderate gale a sloop would be down to a storm jib and a close-reefed mainsail.
To heave to, you need to get the foresail counterbalancing the mainsail. To achieve that, you can trim the sails for a beat and simply pull the jib sheet to weather until the sail is backed. An easier way to do it is to sail on the port tack and then go about without touching the foresail sheet. As soon as the bow has passed through the eye of the wind and way is off the boat, push the tiller down to leeward and lash it there, or turn the wheel as if you were about to tack once more. At the same time, give the mainsheet generous slack. You will now be hove to on the starboard tack and have the right of way.
If you’ve previously been crashing and bashing through fierce head seas you’ll now be astonished at how quietly and obediently she lies. You’ll be drifting sideways and moving forward at between one and two knots, but your average course over the ground will be more-or-less at right angles to the wind direction.
When you first heave to, you should experiment with the sheeting position of the mainsail. Find where it lies quietly in the lee of the foresail without driving the boat forward too much. You can point up into the wind more by trimming the mainsail in toward the center of the boat and/or by giving the foresail sheet a little slack. Conversely, you can get her to lie farther off the wind by slacking the main sheet and/or pulling the foresail farther to weather of the mast.
Incidentally, it doesn’t help much to practice heaving to in very light weather. Few boats will behave with any decency under those conditions and you will unnecessarily frustrated. Try it first with a full-sail breeze, and if you have a roller-reefing foresail, roll it up to 100 percent fore-triangle area before you heave to. Most boats that are hove to properly will move forward in little scallops, alternately pointing up slightly and falling off slightly.
You should be aware that some fin-keel boats, especially ultralight fin-keelers, are more difficult to heave to. They can be very finicky about the areas of sail drawing before and behind the mast, which have to balance each other, and they often require frequent adjustments. When the fin keel is not moving forward through the water it is basically stalled, which allows the boat to slip sideways at a great rate. This is not necessarily a bad thing, especially if it leaves a smooth slick to windward that tends to break up big seas before they reach the boat, but it’s something to be aware of if there is land to leeward.
That’s about as much help as I can give you. Every boat is different, and you need to experiment to find out how your particular boat handles best. But if you follow the principles given above you will have a good head-start. It’s worth your effort. Heaving to is a basic requirement of good seamanship. It’s also a very satisfying trick to know.
Today’s Thought
He who commands the sea has command of everything.
—Themistocles
Tailpiece
“What do you want to be when you finish college?”
“I’ve half a mind to become a politician.”
“Well, you’ll be better equipped than most of them.”
April 19, 2009
A boat in need of escape
WORD HAS REACHED ME from the State penitentiary in Walnut Street. Someone has sent me a copy of the prison’s secret underground newspaper, the Walnut Street Gazeout. I believe it should be Gazette, but Gazeout is also quite appropriate if you think about it.
According to the April issue of the Gazeout (should be Gazette), six inmates are seeking advice. Over a period of three years, they have quietly built a 10-foot sailing dinghy from plywood snaffled from an in-house remodeling project.
An article jointly authored by “Burglaroo” and “Innocent Victim” claims this is no ordinary sailing dinghy. It’s designed like those 10-footers that are racing around the world. This is a sea-going 10-footer, a proper escape vessel.
It was an appealing project, apparently, one that dovetailed with their dreams of escape and fed on their craving for freedom. Now that it’s finished, the six builders are planning to draw lots to establish ownership.
However, because they plunged into this scheme in a frenzy of unbridled enthusiasm they overlooked a very important point: how to smuggle it out of the pen. At present it’s in the laundry behind a row of boilers.
Apparently it was my book, Twenty Small Sailboats to Take You Anywhere, that sparked this whole idea, which is why I was sent a copy of the Gazeout (should be Gazette) with a request for advice. Not that they’re in any tearing hurry about this, you understand. None of the six is going to be freed within 18 months. But they’re now belatedly starting to plan ahead.
Well, I must point out that I have never advocated going to sea in a 10-footer. I thought I was being very brave by making the smallest boat in my book just 20 feet. But when pent-up enthusiasm turns into passion and then into uncontained zeal, anything can happen. And it has.
Unfortunately, I’ve had no experience of smuggling a 10-foot sailing dinghy out of a prison, so I guess I’m not much help. All I can say is that if any you readers have any brilliant ideas, I’d be glad to pass them on.
Today’s Thought
Freedom suppressed and again regained bites with keener fangs than freedom never endangered.
—Cicero, De Officiis
Tailpiece
“Do you file your nails after you’ve cut them?”
“Heavens, no, I just throw them in the waste-paper basket.”
According to the April issue of the Gazeout (should be Gazette), six inmates are seeking advice. Over a period of three years, they have quietly built a 10-foot sailing dinghy from plywood snaffled from an in-house remodeling project.
An article jointly authored by “Burglaroo” and “Innocent Victim” claims this is no ordinary sailing dinghy. It’s designed like those 10-footers that are racing around the world. This is a sea-going 10-footer, a proper escape vessel.
It was an appealing project, apparently, one that dovetailed with their dreams of escape and fed on their craving for freedom. Now that it’s finished, the six builders are planning to draw lots to establish ownership.
However, because they plunged into this scheme in a frenzy of unbridled enthusiasm they overlooked a very important point: how to smuggle it out of the pen. At present it’s in the laundry behind a row of boilers.
Apparently it was my book, Twenty Small Sailboats to Take You Anywhere, that sparked this whole idea, which is why I was sent a copy of the Gazeout (should be Gazette) with a request for advice. Not that they’re in any tearing hurry about this, you understand. None of the six is going to be freed within 18 months. But they’re now belatedly starting to plan ahead.
Well, I must point out that I have never advocated going to sea in a 10-footer. I thought I was being very brave by making the smallest boat in my book just 20 feet. But when pent-up enthusiasm turns into passion and then into uncontained zeal, anything can happen. And it has.
Unfortunately, I’ve had no experience of smuggling a 10-foot sailing dinghy out of a prison, so I guess I’m not much help. All I can say is that if any you readers have any brilliant ideas, I’d be glad to pass them on.
Today’s Thought
Freedom suppressed and again regained bites with keener fangs than freedom never endangered.
—Cicero, De Officiis
Tailpiece
“Do you file your nails after you’ve cut them?”
“Heavens, no, I just throw them in the waste-paper basket.”
April 16, 2009
Conquering dangerous love
Spring is sprung, the grass is riz/How beautiful my sailboat is.
AFTER A LONG COLD winter deprived of sailing, the time for renewal and reaquaintance has arrived. Time to take up again with the old flame.
Have you caught yourself marveling at how beautiful your boat is? Are you constantly planning to make it even prettier? Does it make you sigh and bring on that deep feeling of joy when you close your eyes at night and remember what it looks like? Do you show pictures of it to your friends?
Be careful, my friend, you may be in love. Love is dangerous. Love is temporary insanity, a mind, soul, and body out of control. Love is blind to all faults. It lives only in the present, ignoring the lessons of the past and warnings about the future. Love has no strings on its purse; it never balances its checkbook. This is a recipe for several disasters — definitely financial, possibly mental, probably social.
What to do about it? Well, this is serious. The usual advice won’t suffice. Deep breaths and cold showers don’t make it.
The answer is Controlled Love, Restrained Affection. You must act like a Brit with a stiff upper lip. Don’t wear your emotions on your sleeve. Conceal them. Stay away from booze, which loosens inhibitions; reject the glittering temptations of West Marine; ignore yachting magazines whose airbrushed pictures and panting descriptions are calculated to incite unbridled lust and take wicked advantage of the love-lorn.
When you can regard your boat purely as a form of transport, as a faithful dog without legs, as a means of keeping you dry when you venture out into the restless wet, you will be cured.
How soon will this be? Frankly, nobody knows. It hasn’t happened yet.
Today’s Thought
There is no excellent beauty that hath not some strangeness in the proportion.
—Francis Bacon, Essays: Of Beauty
Tailpiece
“Doc, I need help.”
“What’s up?”
“I’m 88 and still chasing women.”
“What’s wrong with that?”
“I can’t remember why.”
AFTER A LONG COLD winter deprived of sailing, the time for renewal and reaquaintance has arrived. Time to take up again with the old flame.
Have you caught yourself marveling at how beautiful your boat is? Are you constantly planning to make it even prettier? Does it make you sigh and bring on that deep feeling of joy when you close your eyes at night and remember what it looks like? Do you show pictures of it to your friends?
Be careful, my friend, you may be in love. Love is dangerous. Love is temporary insanity, a mind, soul, and body out of control. Love is blind to all faults. It lives only in the present, ignoring the lessons of the past and warnings about the future. Love has no strings on its purse; it never balances its checkbook. This is a recipe for several disasters — definitely financial, possibly mental, probably social.
What to do about it? Well, this is serious. The usual advice won’t suffice. Deep breaths and cold showers don’t make it.
The answer is Controlled Love, Restrained Affection. You must act like a Brit with a stiff upper lip. Don’t wear your emotions on your sleeve. Conceal them. Stay away from booze, which loosens inhibitions; reject the glittering temptations of West Marine; ignore yachting magazines whose airbrushed pictures and panting descriptions are calculated to incite unbridled lust and take wicked advantage of the love-lorn.
When you can regard your boat purely as a form of transport, as a faithful dog without legs, as a means of keeping you dry when you venture out into the restless wet, you will be cured.
How soon will this be? Frankly, nobody knows. It hasn’t happened yet.
Today’s Thought
There is no excellent beauty that hath not some strangeness in the proportion.
—Francis Bacon, Essays: Of Beauty
Tailpiece
“Doc, I need help.”
“What’s up?”
“I’m 88 and still chasing women.”
“What’s wrong with that?”
“I can’t remember why.”
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