I HAVE LONG BELIEVED that people whose lives depend on rope should always have a sharp knife at hand. The more you sail, the more you realize the need for a knife. That need doesn’t arise often, thank goodness, but the occasions when it does are usually characterized by strong winds, heavy seas, threatening rocks, and a crew paralyzed with panic.
The kind of knife I’m referring to must be capable of slicing quickly through the largest rope on your boat. That may be the anchor line, a halyard, a sheet, or even the dinghy painter. If you have ever seen a crewmember pinned against the cockpit bulkhead by a mainsheet across the neck after a sudden jibe, you’ll know what I’m talking about. And if you’ve ever got a finger caught around a winch while trying to free an override of the genoa sheet in a surprise squall, you’ll appreciate the need for fast relief.
The only question, really, is what kind of knife; and where do you keep it?
My preference is for a fixed-blade sheath knife worn on your belt, so that it always goes with you. It can be a nuisance sometimes, I know, when it catches on the lifelines or something, but it’s worth the bother. The blade should be as long as practical, even if it’s illegal ashore, but nothing less than 3 1/2 inches.
I have never figured out whether it’s better to have a plain, hollow-cut edge or a serrated edge. I think the knife manufacturers are still trying to work this one out, too, because many of them offer blades that are partly serrated and part plain knife-edge.
I remember Jerry Powlas, technical editor of Good Old Boat, saying that a serrated edge was good only for bread knives, but there are many who swear by the fast cutting power of a serrated edge. And if you buy a blade that’s half serrated and half plain, how can you go wrong? I believe that Jerry’s main objection was that he found it impossible to sharpen a serrated edge to the same razor sharpness he creates on his ordinary blades.
If you can’t wear a sheath knife on your belt for some reason, then find a good place in the cockpit where you can keep a fixed-blade knife, somewhere that is readily accessible day and night.
You might also want to keep in your pocket a small rigger’s or yachtsman’s knife, one of those with a folding knife blade, a marline spike, and (very important) a beer bottle opener. Alternatively, you could have a Leatherman-type multi-tool with a small knife blade and a pair of pliers that can open shackles, as can the spike on the rigger’s knife. But these knife blades are only second-best in an emergency. It takes time to find them and it’s fiddly to open them, and you might have only one hand available anyhow. And even when they’re finally open and ready for business, they really are quite puny for the job, compared with a big robust sheath knife. They are, however, infinitely better than nothing.
There is one fairly frequent situation where a good cutting knife is called for, and that’s when you get a rope or fishing net around the propeller shaft. I would hesitate to use an expensive sheath knife for this because you’re bound to blunt the knife against the metal shaft, and I have often thought that some kind of hacksaw blade with a decent handle would be better for the job and a lot cheaper.
Finally, if you’re looking for a nice Christmas present for a sailor, a knife might be a good choice. If you Google the names Gerber, Myerchin, and Spyderco you’ll find some very modern designs made expressly for cutting rope in a hurry. You’ll also notice that the purchase prices of the more exotic models are such that you might well be tempted to investigate my hacksaw-blade idea with justifiable fervor.
Today’s Thought
To each is given a bag of tools,
A shapeless mass and a book of rules,
And each must make, ere life is flown,
A stumbling-block or a stepping stone.
— R. L. Sharpe
Boaters’ Rules of Thumb, #129
Cruising drop-outs. The success rate among people who set sail for a planned cruise of 6 to 18 months is only 35 to 40 percent. That’s according to Lin and Larry Pardey, well known cruisers and authors, after they’d been cruising for 14 years. Their definition of “success” was: “Finding satisfaction or enjoyment from what you are doing; having a sense of harmony on board; feeling glad you had the experience; eager to continue or go off again.”
Tailpiece
“I need a new dipstick for my car please.”
“But the old one must still be there, madam.”
“Yeah, sure, but it doesn’t reach the oil any more.”
(Come back every Monday, Wednesday, Friday for a new Mainly about Boats column.)
December 5, 2010
December 2, 2010
Dreams I don’t remember
LIKE MOST COLUMNISTS, I am involved in a perpetual search for subject matter. I rarely know, from day to day, what I’m going to write about next. Some of my best ideas come in dreams, but the frustrating thing is that I very rarely can remember my dreams.
While I’m having my dreams, I think to myself what a marvelous idea this is. How my readers are going to love this one. It’s funny, it’s smart, it’s full of useful tips — this is a columnist’s dream column. And then, poof! it disappears as soon as I wake up. Can’t remember a darned thing about it, except that it was astoundingly good.
I once had the idea of keeping a notebook and pen on my bedside table so I could wake up and write down the details of my dream while it was still fresh in my mind. The results were startling. The wonderfully creative thoughts that had passed through my sleeping mind were absolute driveling gibberish when examined next morning in the stark light of day. Nothing made any sense.
Once or twice, toward dawn, I have awakened so gradually that my waking mind was still attached to my sleeping mind, and there was a partial transfer of creative thought that actually made sense. I can’t say either of those dreams was spectacularly helpful in writing a column, but at least they weren’t gibberish.
My intuition tells me that I dream about boats a lot. I’m sure I design brilliant boats and sail them perfectly. I bet I win lots of races and cruise to exotic places and wear smart yacht club blazers and attract the attention and adoration of lovely women wherever I go.
And, talking about women, I don’t know for sure, because I never can remember, but I expect I dream about women just as often as boats. Most men do, I’m told. Nice women, of course, modest, wholesome women equipped with the highest moral standards, clever, interesting women known as much for their brains and character as their looks.
Admittedly, a bad woman may have crept into my dreams now and then. Some kind of wicked hussy. I have no way to confirm or deny it and I couldn’t stop it even if I wanted to. But if that happened, it’s not my fault. I plead innocent. I’m not in charge of my dreams and I don’t know who is. Furthermore, I am not responsible for my actions in my dreams. Actually I don’t even know what bad women do. Well, to tell the truth, maybe I do have a vague idea of what they do. But I’m not sure, because if they did it, I’ll never know what it was. I’m just not capable of remembering it.
Today’s Thought
Dreaming permits each and every one of us to be quietly and safely insane every night of our lives.
— Dr. William C. Dement
Boaters’ Rules of Thumb, #128
Distance from lights. Never try to judge your distance from a single point of light at sea at night. It provides no clue by which our perceptions can judge its size and distance with any accuracy. In most cases, when the light becomes visibly nearer, you are in immediate danger of running into it.
Tailpiece
“Who was that girl I seen you out with last night?”
“You mean ‘I saw.’”
“Oh, right. Who was that eyesore I seen you out with last night?”
(Drop by every Monday, Wednesday, Friday, for a new Mainly about Boats column.)
While I’m having my dreams, I think to myself what a marvelous idea this is. How my readers are going to love this one. It’s funny, it’s smart, it’s full of useful tips — this is a columnist’s dream column. And then, poof! it disappears as soon as I wake up. Can’t remember a darned thing about it, except that it was astoundingly good.
I once had the idea of keeping a notebook and pen on my bedside table so I could wake up and write down the details of my dream while it was still fresh in my mind. The results were startling. The wonderfully creative thoughts that had passed through my sleeping mind were absolute driveling gibberish when examined next morning in the stark light of day. Nothing made any sense.
Once or twice, toward dawn, I have awakened so gradually that my waking mind was still attached to my sleeping mind, and there was a partial transfer of creative thought that actually made sense. I can’t say either of those dreams was spectacularly helpful in writing a column, but at least they weren’t gibberish.
My intuition tells me that I dream about boats a lot. I’m sure I design brilliant boats and sail them perfectly. I bet I win lots of races and cruise to exotic places and wear smart yacht club blazers and attract the attention and adoration of lovely women wherever I go.
And, talking about women, I don’t know for sure, because I never can remember, but I expect I dream about women just as often as boats. Most men do, I’m told. Nice women, of course, modest, wholesome women equipped with the highest moral standards, clever, interesting women known as much for their brains and character as their looks.
Admittedly, a bad woman may have crept into my dreams now and then. Some kind of wicked hussy. I have no way to confirm or deny it and I couldn’t stop it even if I wanted to. But if that happened, it’s not my fault. I plead innocent. I’m not in charge of my dreams and I don’t know who is. Furthermore, I am not responsible for my actions in my dreams. Actually I don’t even know what bad women do. Well, to tell the truth, maybe I do have a vague idea of what they do. But I’m not sure, because if they did it, I’ll never know what it was. I’m just not capable of remembering it.
Today’s Thought
Dreaming permits each and every one of us to be quietly and safely insane every night of our lives.
— Dr. William C. Dement
Boaters’ Rules of Thumb, #128
Distance from lights. Never try to judge your distance from a single point of light at sea at night. It provides no clue by which our perceptions can judge its size and distance with any accuracy. In most cases, when the light becomes visibly nearer, you are in immediate danger of running into it.
Tailpiece
“Who was that girl I seen you out with last night?”
“You mean ‘I saw.’”
“Oh, right. Who was that eyesore I seen you out with last night?”
(Drop by every Monday, Wednesday, Friday, for a new Mainly about Boats column.)
November 30, 2010
Don’t let blisters bug you
“SHOULD I BUY a boat with blisters?” That’s the query from a reader in San Diego. “Cautious” has fallen in love with a 10-year old, 30-foot sloop, but he’s scared to tie the knot. He’s afraid to commit, because when he had her surveyed he found she had “a whole lot of dime-sized blisters on her bottom.”
Well “Cautious,” my advice is to grit your teeth and buy her. Nobody’s perfect, and no boat is, either. Although fiberglass boats have been around for more than 50 years, there’s still a lot of misinformation doing the rounds, especially regarding the dreaded boat pox.
It’s reassuring, therefore, to hear the experience of David Pascoe, a marine surveyor based in Destin, Fla., who says that in 30 years of surveying and examining 4,000 hulls, he has seen fewer than 10 cases where blisters have resulted in serious structural degradation of a hull.[1]
We’re talking here of dime-sized blisters. In 99 percent of the boats Pascoe has surveyed, blistering involved only the gel coat and the surface mat — neither of which is a structural part of the hull laminate.
Pascoe says that even boats with numerous blisters up to about 1-inch in diameter usually show no significant weakening of the plastic. As a result, “moderate blistering on an older boat rarely impedes the sale.”
As a matter of fact, Pascoe reckons that by the time a boat is 8 or 10 years old, “whatever is going to happen to the hull has probably already happened.” That means if she hasn’t developed blisters yet, she’s not ever likely to, so don’t be tempted to apply a barrier coat.
It’s quite another matter if a new boat develops blisters, of course. On a boat that’s been afloat for only two or three years, it’s likely that blistering is just the beginning. That’s not good news. But one that’s been afloat for eight years or more without developing blisters is a pretty safe bet.
Interestingly, Pascoe doesn’t even think it’s necessary to do anything about small blisters. Admittedly, they make the hull more difficult to paint and they will slow the boat down slightly, but: “If blisters cannot be shown to be causing significant damage, then repair is certainly not mandatory, despite the many horror stories you may hear from people trying to sell you a costly repair job ... Bear in mind that blister repair jobs are now big business for boat yards, so that taking advice from yard managers may not be a good idea.”
He makes another good point, too: “Further, you should be aware that the number of failed blister repair jobs that surveyors find is very high. No one’s ever going to know why blister repairs fail because no one is going to spend the money to find out.”
So go ahead, “Cautious.” Be brave. Put your money where your heart is. Who else is going to see your new girl-friend’s bottom anyhow?
[1]http://www.yachtsurvey.com/BuyingBlisterBoat.htm
Today’s Thought
The desire of perfection is the worst disease that ever afflicted the human mind.
— Fontanes, Address to Napoleon, in behalf of the French Senate, 1804
Boaters’ Rules of Thumb, #127
Locating faint lights. To find a faint light, such as a star, at night, look a little to one side, or above or below where you might expect to find it. If you look straight at an object, the light rays fall on an area inside the eye that is not as sensitive as the surrounding areas. So faint lights are often first seen in or toward the corner of the eye.
Tailpiece
”Why do you call it love at second sight?”
“I didn’t know she was rich when I first saw her.”
Well “Cautious,” my advice is to grit your teeth and buy her. Nobody’s perfect, and no boat is, either. Although fiberglass boats have been around for more than 50 years, there’s still a lot of misinformation doing the rounds, especially regarding the dreaded boat pox.
It’s reassuring, therefore, to hear the experience of David Pascoe, a marine surveyor based in Destin, Fla., who says that in 30 years of surveying and examining 4,000 hulls, he has seen fewer than 10 cases where blisters have resulted in serious structural degradation of a hull.[1]
We’re talking here of dime-sized blisters. In 99 percent of the boats Pascoe has surveyed, blistering involved only the gel coat and the surface mat — neither of which is a structural part of the hull laminate.
Pascoe says that even boats with numerous blisters up to about 1-inch in diameter usually show no significant weakening of the plastic. As a result, “moderate blistering on an older boat rarely impedes the sale.”
As a matter of fact, Pascoe reckons that by the time a boat is 8 or 10 years old, “whatever is going to happen to the hull has probably already happened.” That means if she hasn’t developed blisters yet, she’s not ever likely to, so don’t be tempted to apply a barrier coat.
It’s quite another matter if a new boat develops blisters, of course. On a boat that’s been afloat for only two or three years, it’s likely that blistering is just the beginning. That’s not good news. But one that’s been afloat for eight years or more without developing blisters is a pretty safe bet.
Interestingly, Pascoe doesn’t even think it’s necessary to do anything about small blisters. Admittedly, they make the hull more difficult to paint and they will slow the boat down slightly, but: “If blisters cannot be shown to be causing significant damage, then repair is certainly not mandatory, despite the many horror stories you may hear from people trying to sell you a costly repair job ... Bear in mind that blister repair jobs are now big business for boat yards, so that taking advice from yard managers may not be a good idea.”
He makes another good point, too: “Further, you should be aware that the number of failed blister repair jobs that surveyors find is very high. No one’s ever going to know why blister repairs fail because no one is going to spend the money to find out.”
So go ahead, “Cautious.” Be brave. Put your money where your heart is. Who else is going to see your new girl-friend’s bottom anyhow?
[1]http://www.yachtsurvey.com/BuyingBlisterBoat.htm
Today’s Thought
The desire of perfection is the worst disease that ever afflicted the human mind.
— Fontanes, Address to Napoleon, in behalf of the French Senate, 1804
Boaters’ Rules of Thumb, #127
Locating faint lights. To find a faint light, such as a star, at night, look a little to one side, or above or below where you might expect to find it. If you look straight at an object, the light rays fall on an area inside the eye that is not as sensitive as the surrounding areas. So faint lights are often first seen in or toward the corner of the eye.
Tailpiece
”Why do you call it love at second sight?”
“I didn’t know she was rich when I first saw her.”
November 28, 2010
Mobile hair factories
ANYONE WHO HAS LIVED ON A BOAT for any length of time knows about hair. Hair is everywhere, inside and out. It’s all over the saloon floor. It gets stuck in your toes as you walk. Long strands of hair drape themselves with casual cockiness over your saucepans and newly washed plates in the galley. You’ll find it on faucets, mirrors, the toilet seat, in the bilge, everywhere. Hair is even a safety issue because it clogs drains and bilge pumps, and it never seems to rot or fade away into dust.
Let’s face it, people are mobile hair factories. The stuff just keeps growing, and as fast as it grows it falls out. Frankly, I have never understood why humans grow hair in the first place. It must be a manufacturing defect. I mean, what use is it? Why do we have pubic hair, for instance? Surely our pubes can survive well enough without hair? What use is underarm hair? It’s hot and sweaty enough already under there. Why do I have hair on the back of my knuckles, for goodness’ sake? Yes, I can understand the need for hair on the head to prevent sunburn, but how do you account for the fact that as we age (and need even more sunburn protection) the damned hair falls off our heads and starts growing out of our ears and nostrils. Whaaat?
I can remember looking at the compass one dark night in mid-ocean and thinking I was hallucinating. It was a domed compass, saltwater-damp and glowing faint red, but with puzzling streaks all over, so that the white lubber line looked like a jagged thunderbolt. I ran a finger over it and the streaks gathered together into a thick string of hair.
And then, when I first got my Cape Dory 27, she had a beautiful cockpit grating made of teak. It was first-class workmanship, a wonderful piece of furniture, and probably worth as much as many boats. But the first time I lifted it up (because the cockpit drains didn’t seem to be working fast enough) I was astonished at what was trapped underneath. The bottom of each little hole was matted with clumps of hair — hair that had trapped and nurtured foul-smelling globs of gelatinous goo of such a virulent nature that it almost snarled at me.
So if I had my way (at least until there is a general recall of humans to redress our tonsorial defect) anyone coming aboard a boat of mine would either have to wear a hairnet or be shaved all over. Long hair, short hair, all gone, if you please. Some supporters of hirsuteness may well believe that hair has its place, but that place isn’t on any boat of mine.
Today’s Thought
Interest in hair today has grown to the proportions of a fetish. Think of the many loving ways in which advertisements refer to scalp hair—satiny, glowing, shimmering, breathing, living. Living, indeed! It is as dead as rope.
— Dr. William Montagna, Brown University
Boaters’ Rules of Thumb, #126
The jumping light. Most people who have sailed at night have experienced the phenomenon of a fixed or flashing point of light that appears to jump around the horizon. Psychologists call it the autokinetic illusion. After we stare fixedly at one point for too long, the light reappears some distance left or right of where we expect it. Some say it comes about through imperceptible movements or strain in the eye muscles. The rest of us just accept it as a fact of life afloat, and sweep our eyes from side to side while waiting for the light to appear again.
Tailpiece
“And how’s the patient this morning, nurse?”
“Much better, doctor. He tried to blow the foam off his medicine.”
Let’s face it, people are mobile hair factories. The stuff just keeps growing, and as fast as it grows it falls out. Frankly, I have never understood why humans grow hair in the first place. It must be a manufacturing defect. I mean, what use is it? Why do we have pubic hair, for instance? Surely our pubes can survive well enough without hair? What use is underarm hair? It’s hot and sweaty enough already under there. Why do I have hair on the back of my knuckles, for goodness’ sake? Yes, I can understand the need for hair on the head to prevent sunburn, but how do you account for the fact that as we age (and need even more sunburn protection) the damned hair falls off our heads and starts growing out of our ears and nostrils. Whaaat?
I can remember looking at the compass one dark night in mid-ocean and thinking I was hallucinating. It was a domed compass, saltwater-damp and glowing faint red, but with puzzling streaks all over, so that the white lubber line looked like a jagged thunderbolt. I ran a finger over it and the streaks gathered together into a thick string of hair.
And then, when I first got my Cape Dory 27, she had a beautiful cockpit grating made of teak. It was first-class workmanship, a wonderful piece of furniture, and probably worth as much as many boats. But the first time I lifted it up (because the cockpit drains didn’t seem to be working fast enough) I was astonished at what was trapped underneath. The bottom of each little hole was matted with clumps of hair — hair that had trapped and nurtured foul-smelling globs of gelatinous goo of such a virulent nature that it almost snarled at me.
So if I had my way (at least until there is a general recall of humans to redress our tonsorial defect) anyone coming aboard a boat of mine would either have to wear a hairnet or be shaved all over. Long hair, short hair, all gone, if you please. Some supporters of hirsuteness may well believe that hair has its place, but that place isn’t on any boat of mine.
Today’s Thought
Interest in hair today has grown to the proportions of a fetish. Think of the many loving ways in which advertisements refer to scalp hair—satiny, glowing, shimmering, breathing, living. Living, indeed! It is as dead as rope.
— Dr. William Montagna, Brown University
Boaters’ Rules of Thumb, #126
The jumping light. Most people who have sailed at night have experienced the phenomenon of a fixed or flashing point of light that appears to jump around the horizon. Psychologists call it the autokinetic illusion. After we stare fixedly at one point for too long, the light reappears some distance left or right of where we expect it. Some say it comes about through imperceptible movements or strain in the eye muscles. The rest of us just accept it as a fact of life afloat, and sweep our eyes from side to side while waiting for the light to appear again.
Tailpiece
“And how’s the patient this morning, nurse?”
“Much better, doctor. He tried to blow the foam off his medicine.”
November 25, 2010
Royal wedding disaster
GOOD GRIEF, what was he thinking? Prince William has chosen to get married on April 29 — the day of the Boat Show.
Those poor British yachtsmen now have to choose between what’s going on at Westminster Abbey and what’s going on where they’d really like to be — at the inaugural Liverpool Boat Show. What a terrible choice to have to make.
And what an extraordinary reflection on Prince William. Has he forgotten his Royal Navy heritage? Sailors all. What must his dad and granddad be thinking? Would either of them have even so much as dreamed of getting married on the day of the Boat Show? Of course not.
If you HAD to get married on the day of the Boat Show for some reason of international diplomacy or internal family peace, then you’d obviously get married AT the Boat Show, where the Royal Yacht would be waiting to waft you off for your Royal Nuptials immediately afterward.
I can only imagine how forlorn and disappointed those sailing Brits must be, how they must be wondering about the relationship between their future king and his bride as regards attendance at future Boat Shows. In the old days, a monarch would put his foot down with a firm hand and insist on getting married on a day that didn’t interfere with the yacht club prizegiving. And his bride, recognizing the coziness of her situation, would naturally fall in with his wishes lest she be cast into a dungeon or be sent to the Tower for beheading.
But times have obviously changed quite drastically, even for princes. The Pankhurst era is over. Women don’t chain themselves to railings any more. They actually have the vote. (And perhaps one should note here that no male member of the Royal Family ever stepped in to prevent that while it was still possible.) So it’s the old story. Give them an inch and they’ll take an ell. And having taken an ell, it’s hello Westminster and to ell with the Boat Show. Sob. Only time will soften this blow.
Today’s Thought
Kings are not born; they are made by universal hallucination.
— Bernard Shaw, Maxims for Revolutionists
Boaters’ Rules of Thumb, #125
Survival in a liferaft. You’re far more likely to survive in a liferaft or lifeboat that can be sailed and steered. Dr. Michael Stadler, a German professor of psychology, says that waiting passively to be rescued in a helplessly drifting lifeboat is a prime cause of despair and hopelessness.
“Even the most desperate situation is bearable . . . provided they have some sense of having their position and environment under control.”
Tailpiece
“Oi was niver drunk, Yer Honor, and Oi tried to tell the officer so.”
“And wouldn’t he listen?”
“Oh, he was listenin’ all roight, Yer Honor; ’twas moiself that couldn’t say it.”
(Drop by every Monday, Wednesday, Friday, for a new Mainly about Boats column.)
Those poor British yachtsmen now have to choose between what’s going on at Westminster Abbey and what’s going on where they’d really like to be — at the inaugural Liverpool Boat Show. What a terrible choice to have to make.
And what an extraordinary reflection on Prince William. Has he forgotten his Royal Navy heritage? Sailors all. What must his dad and granddad be thinking? Would either of them have even so much as dreamed of getting married on the day of the Boat Show? Of course not.
If you HAD to get married on the day of the Boat Show for some reason of international diplomacy or internal family peace, then you’d obviously get married AT the Boat Show, where the Royal Yacht would be waiting to waft you off for your Royal Nuptials immediately afterward.
I can only imagine how forlorn and disappointed those sailing Brits must be, how they must be wondering about the relationship between their future king and his bride as regards attendance at future Boat Shows. In the old days, a monarch would put his foot down with a firm hand and insist on getting married on a day that didn’t interfere with the yacht club prizegiving. And his bride, recognizing the coziness of her situation, would naturally fall in with his wishes lest she be cast into a dungeon or be sent to the Tower for beheading.
But times have obviously changed quite drastically, even for princes. The Pankhurst era is over. Women don’t chain themselves to railings any more. They actually have the vote. (And perhaps one should note here that no male member of the Royal Family ever stepped in to prevent that while it was still possible.) So it’s the old story. Give them an inch and they’ll take an ell. And having taken an ell, it’s hello Westminster and to ell with the Boat Show. Sob. Only time will soften this blow.
Today’s Thought
Kings are not born; they are made by universal hallucination.
— Bernard Shaw, Maxims for Revolutionists
Boaters’ Rules of Thumb, #125
Survival in a liferaft. You’re far more likely to survive in a liferaft or lifeboat that can be sailed and steered. Dr. Michael Stadler, a German professor of psychology, says that waiting passively to be rescued in a helplessly drifting lifeboat is a prime cause of despair and hopelessness.
“Even the most desperate situation is bearable . . . provided they have some sense of having their position and environment under control.”
Tailpiece
“Oi was niver drunk, Yer Honor, and Oi tried to tell the officer so.”
“And wouldn’t he listen?”
“Oh, he was listenin’ all roight, Yer Honor; ’twas moiself that couldn’t say it.”
(Drop by every Monday, Wednesday, Friday, for a new Mainly about Boats column.)
November 23, 2010
Symmetry, where art thou?
IT OCCURRED TO ME RECENTLY that human beings value symmetry more than precision. Now this is not as deep a thought as you might imagine. It crept up on me after I read a question on the Cape Dory bulletin board from the owner of a 28-foot Cape Dory sloop. He had discovered that his rudder post did not come up through his cockpit on the exact centerline, but was in fact offset by about an inch or so to one side. Was this normal? he wanted to know.
But what we all understood him to ask was: Is it okay for this not to be symmetrical? The human brain loves symmetry to the extent that it will forgive all kinds of mistakes. If something’s wrong it doesn’t matter — as long as it’s equally wrong on both sides. It’s more important that mistakes should match.
Unfortunately, things don’t always turn out the way the brain would prefer them to, as demonstrated by the Cape Dory’s rudder post. In fact, there are many, many boats that emerge from the manufacturing process rather differently from what the yacht architect so painstakingly designed. In the heyday of one-off wooden yachts, a naval architect was well pleased when a 35-footer came within 6 inches of its designed overall length.
Even today, in this era of improved precision, it’s not always possible to match a finished boat to those beautifully faired lines on the designer’s drawing board. For example, one experienced contributor to the Cape Dory board confirmed that when he worked for Sam Morse, building the famous Bristol Channel Cutters, it was quite obvious that the hull mold was asymmetrical.
Now, Sam Morse boats are renowned for the quality of their build and finish, and BCCs have always been top-of-the-line cruisers. Even so, “One had only to stand behind the boat and look forward along the garboards (where the lower part of the hull joins the keel) to see the difference between the port and starboard side of the boat,” he wrote.
“I noticed this difference quite readily when installing the ballast. The lead castings for the ballast reflected the hull’s asymmetry.”
Sam Morse is not alone. The latest issue of BoatU.S. magazine quotes the owner of a 2007 C&C 115 who discovered his deck was off-center by 1 1/2 inches. The builder responded: “One of the norms of the industry is that no builder guarantees symmetry. Even in strict one-design classes there are variations ...”
A hull that is not symmetrical will probably list to one side, of course. That fact, combined with an offset rudder and a mast that is not quite on centerline, might make a boat a race-winner on starboard tack and an absolute dog on port. On the other hand, the mistakes might tend to cancel each other out so that you end up with a reasonably normal boat on both tacks.
It is difficult to predict in advance what the overall effect of an asymmetrical hull might be. We are dealing here with changed centers of buoyancy and gravity, and possibly with the center of lateral resistance, too.
But, to get back to the Cape Dory man’s question, does a little asymmetry really matter? Not in most cases, I venture to suggest. I learned this from personal experience. One morning I was happily cleaning my teeth when I noticed to my horror that the middle of my top teeth did not line up with the tip of my nose. In other words, my center of sniffing was displaced to starboard of my center of chewing by about one-half tooth.
It was rather a shock to me to discover after decades of looking at myself in the shaving mirror that I had an asymmetrical face. I immediately took action to disguise my disfigurement. I learned to smile infrequently; and on the rare occasion when a smile was essential I learned to open the outer ends of my lips in light-hearted happiness and keep the middle parts firmly clamped shut.
Then, after considerable research, I learned that many people, if not most, are asymmetrical in one way or another. The length of legs can differ. One eye can be slightly higher than another. Women’s individual breasts frequently differ in size and pointiness. And I finally noticed that one of our most famous national TV newscasters has a nose running northeast and a jaw sloping southwest — and it does not impinge one whit upon his pomposity.
So I don’t worry about my nasal/dental asymmetry any more. Well, not most of the time, anyhow. I have found, though, that on meeting an interesting person of the opposite sex, my nose now bends itself slightly half a tooth to port to line up with my top teeth. It does this quite automatically without any urging from me and I take this as a happy sign of how Nature compensates for all our inadequacies. Which means that you shouldn’t really worry too much if your rudder post is offset, your center of buoyancy is skewed, or one ear sticks out more than the other.
Today’s Thought
There is no excellent beauty that hath not some strangeness in the proportion.
— Francis Bacon
Boaters’ Rules of Thumb, #124
Height of lifelines. The rule is that lifelines should be no less than 30 inches above deck. Anything much lower is good only for catapulting you overboard, and higher is better.
Tailpiece
Commander: “What blankety-blank put these goddam flowers on the navigation desk fer chrissake?”
Lieutenant: “The Admiral did, Sir.”
Commander: “Purdy, ain’t they?”
But what we all understood him to ask was: Is it okay for this not to be symmetrical? The human brain loves symmetry to the extent that it will forgive all kinds of mistakes. If something’s wrong it doesn’t matter — as long as it’s equally wrong on both sides. It’s more important that mistakes should match.
Unfortunately, things don’t always turn out the way the brain would prefer them to, as demonstrated by the Cape Dory’s rudder post. In fact, there are many, many boats that emerge from the manufacturing process rather differently from what the yacht architect so painstakingly designed. In the heyday of one-off wooden yachts, a naval architect was well pleased when a 35-footer came within 6 inches of its designed overall length.
Even today, in this era of improved precision, it’s not always possible to match a finished boat to those beautifully faired lines on the designer’s drawing board. For example, one experienced contributor to the Cape Dory board confirmed that when he worked for Sam Morse, building the famous Bristol Channel Cutters, it was quite obvious that the hull mold was asymmetrical.
Now, Sam Morse boats are renowned for the quality of their build and finish, and BCCs have always been top-of-the-line cruisers. Even so, “One had only to stand behind the boat and look forward along the garboards (where the lower part of the hull joins the keel) to see the difference between the port and starboard side of the boat,” he wrote.
“I noticed this difference quite readily when installing the ballast. The lead castings for the ballast reflected the hull’s asymmetry.”
Sam Morse is not alone. The latest issue of BoatU.S. magazine quotes the owner of a 2007 C&C 115 who discovered his deck was off-center by 1 1/2 inches. The builder responded: “One of the norms of the industry is that no builder guarantees symmetry. Even in strict one-design classes there are variations ...”
A hull that is not symmetrical will probably list to one side, of course. That fact, combined with an offset rudder and a mast that is not quite on centerline, might make a boat a race-winner on starboard tack and an absolute dog on port. On the other hand, the mistakes might tend to cancel each other out so that you end up with a reasonably normal boat on both tacks.
It is difficult to predict in advance what the overall effect of an asymmetrical hull might be. We are dealing here with changed centers of buoyancy and gravity, and possibly with the center of lateral resistance, too.
But, to get back to the Cape Dory man’s question, does a little asymmetry really matter? Not in most cases, I venture to suggest. I learned this from personal experience. One morning I was happily cleaning my teeth when I noticed to my horror that the middle of my top teeth did not line up with the tip of my nose. In other words, my center of sniffing was displaced to starboard of my center of chewing by about one-half tooth.
It was rather a shock to me to discover after decades of looking at myself in the shaving mirror that I had an asymmetrical face. I immediately took action to disguise my disfigurement. I learned to smile infrequently; and on the rare occasion when a smile was essential I learned to open the outer ends of my lips in light-hearted happiness and keep the middle parts firmly clamped shut.
Then, after considerable research, I learned that many people, if not most, are asymmetrical in one way or another. The length of legs can differ. One eye can be slightly higher than another. Women’s individual breasts frequently differ in size and pointiness. And I finally noticed that one of our most famous national TV newscasters has a nose running northeast and a jaw sloping southwest — and it does not impinge one whit upon his pomposity.
So I don’t worry about my nasal/dental asymmetry any more. Well, not most of the time, anyhow. I have found, though, that on meeting an interesting person of the opposite sex, my nose now bends itself slightly half a tooth to port to line up with my top teeth. It does this quite automatically without any urging from me and I take this as a happy sign of how Nature compensates for all our inadequacies. Which means that you shouldn’t really worry too much if your rudder post is offset, your center of buoyancy is skewed, or one ear sticks out more than the other.
Today’s Thought
There is no excellent beauty that hath not some strangeness in the proportion.
— Francis Bacon
Boaters’ Rules of Thumb, #124
Height of lifelines. The rule is that lifelines should be no less than 30 inches above deck. Anything much lower is good only for catapulting you overboard, and higher is better.
Tailpiece
Commander: “What blankety-blank put these goddam flowers on the navigation desk fer chrissake?”
Lieutenant: “The Admiral did, Sir.”
Commander: “Purdy, ain’t they?”
November 21, 2010
Ready to charter? (5)
HERE’S THE LAST installment of our 10-question quiz for would-be charterers.
Engines
Question 9. You notice the engine temperature gauge shoot into the red. What is your very first action? Should you:
(a) Call the charter company on VHF radio?
(b) Turn the motor off immediately?
(c) Look over the stern to see if water is coming out of the exhaust?
Taking a bearing
Question 10. You know full well that one compass bearing on its own can’t give you a position fix. So why, when you’ve been on other boats, has the skipper often put a hand bearing compass to his eye after spotting an approaching ship? Was it:
(a) To practice taking bearings without a distracting background?
(b) To check if you’re going to collide with the ship?
(c) To take the seamanlike precaution of making the compass will always work when it’s needed to take bearings on lighthouses and flashing buoys?
ANSWERS
9(c). If you turn the motor off immediately you won’t know whether water was coming out of the exhaust, which will probably be first question anyone asks you. It takes only a second longer to look over the stern before switching off. Then you’ll have valuable information to pass on when you call the charter company.
10(b). If bearings on an approaching ship don’t change after a few minutes, you’re on a collision course. Make an early and obvious change of course to keep clear of her, even if you have right of way.
Today’s Thought
As far as yachting is concerned, there is not a blasted thing here as good as it used to be.
— L. Francis Herreshoff
Boaters’ Rules of Thumb, #123
Leeway in sailboats. Many factors affect leeway, but as a general rule it can be assumed that a close-hauled sailboat will make about 3 to 5 degrees of leeway in a 10-knot breeze. In a 20-knotter, she’ll more likely make between 5 and 8 degrees. So beware when you’re at the helm: she’s not going exactly where she’s looking.
Tailpiece
“Had a marvelous time in Switzerland. Can’t remember the name of the place, but it was great.”
“Berne?”
“Hell no, it was freezing.”
Engines
Question 9. You notice the engine temperature gauge shoot into the red. What is your very first action? Should you:
(a) Call the charter company on VHF radio?
(b) Turn the motor off immediately?
(c) Look over the stern to see if water is coming out of the exhaust?
Taking a bearing
Question 10. You know full well that one compass bearing on its own can’t give you a position fix. So why, when you’ve been on other boats, has the skipper often put a hand bearing compass to his eye after spotting an approaching ship? Was it:
(a) To practice taking bearings without a distracting background?
(b) To check if you’re going to collide with the ship?
(c) To take the seamanlike precaution of making the compass will always work when it’s needed to take bearings on lighthouses and flashing buoys?
ANSWERS
9(c). If you turn the motor off immediately you won’t know whether water was coming out of the exhaust, which will probably be first question anyone asks you. It takes only a second longer to look over the stern before switching off. Then you’ll have valuable information to pass on when you call the charter company.
10(b). If bearings on an approaching ship don’t change after a few minutes, you’re on a collision course. Make an early and obvious change of course to keep clear of her, even if you have right of way.
Today’s Thought
As far as yachting is concerned, there is not a blasted thing here as good as it used to be.
— L. Francis Herreshoff
Boaters’ Rules of Thumb, #123
Leeway in sailboats. Many factors affect leeway, but as a general rule it can be assumed that a close-hauled sailboat will make about 3 to 5 degrees of leeway in a 10-knot breeze. In a 20-knotter, she’ll more likely make between 5 and 8 degrees. So beware when you’re at the helm: she’s not going exactly where she’s looking.
Tailpiece
“Had a marvelous time in Switzerland. Can’t remember the name of the place, but it was great.”
“Berne?”
“Hell no, it was freezing.”
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