I WENT FOR A RIDE in a powerboat the
other day, the first in many a year. It
was a smart-looking trawler type, disguised to look like a 30-foot tugboat. It
belongs to my friend Jere and his partner Sue, who were taking it for a run after
an extensive overhaul.
No expense was spared, it seems — brand
new engine and transmission, new wiring, new electronics, and all the bits and
pieces that are needed to make a powerboat work.
One of the pieces of electronics in
the wheelhouse was a computer screen that could be toggled to show a color GPS chart, a depthfinder, a
radar display, an AIS display and Lord knows what all else. And not only
toggled, but overlaid. You could, for instance, overlay the GPS chartplotter
with the radar display, just to be sure that the island you saw on the radar
was also marked on the GPS chart. Of course, you could also confirm that fact
by looking out of the window, but it’s obviously very comforting to powerboat people
not to have to depend anything as low-tech as Eyeball, Mark I.
I must say that all went very well.
The weather was kind and the new engine purred with a feeling of suppressed
power. A mighty wake curled up astern and a big dial in the new teak instrument
panel pointed to how many gallons of fuel we were consuming every minute.
There was just one disconcerting
occurrence. The new GPS chartplotter rolled with the boat. By that I mean that
as the boat rolled to starboard, the electronic chart rolled to port, so that
it stayed upright, as if it were somehow on gimbals. Not the whole screen, you
note. Just the chart showing on the screen.
Now it’s all very well to have a
chart that’s always aligned with the horizon, but it’s a little awkward to have
to twist your head, or the top half of your body, to line up with the chart
every time the boat rolls one way or the other.
On any boat that I ever owned, the
paper chart and the person consulting it rolled together, so that due north and
top of one’s head always happily coincided. On Jere’s boat, it was very strange
to have to keep twisting one’s neck in order to keep one’s eyeballs in the same
relative position on the moving chart. Except that it wasn’t the chart that was
moving, of course. It was staying dead upright, just like the galley stove,
while my head moved with the rolling boat. I hope I am making all this
perfectly clear.
Nothing that Jere could do in the
way of pushing or sliding his fingers against the touch screen made any
difference to the jiggling chart. I suggested it must have something to do with
the radar interface. The external radar antenna is often gimbaled so that it
stays level with the horizon. It must be either the radar or the galley stove,
I said. But since neither the radar nor the galley stove was switched on, let
alone overlaid, my suggestion was not received with great gusto.
Jere is a man of great skill and
patience, and I’m sure he will get it sorted out sooner or later, if just for
the sake of any susceptible guests who might find themselves going green while
watching that jiggling chart. Meanwhile, I’m afraid someone is going to have to rip the plastic covering off
the instruction manual and read the bit about how to cure a jiggling chart.
I know, I know, it’s admitting
defeat; but somebody has to do it. Sue is very organized and she can read. That’s a good start. Maybe she’s the one to
solve the problem.
Today’s
Thought
What
we call “Progress” is the exchange of one nuisance for another nuisance.
— Havelock Ellis, Impressions and Comments
Tailpiece
“And where have you two been all day?”
“Hi Mom. Daddy took me for my first
visit to a zoo.”
“Oh, how nice.”
“Yes, and one of the animals had a full house and
made Daddy pay $50 over the table.”
(Drop by every Monday, Wednesday,
Friday for a new Mainly about Boats column.)
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