Beware the call of spring

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 her 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 she looks like? Do you show pictures of her 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.”

(Drop by every Monday, Wednesday, Friday for another Mainly about Boats column.)

The spring ritual

IN SPRING a young man’s fancy lightly turns to thoughts of hanging upside down by his toes in the hatchway as he tries to perform maintenance tasks in the rear end of his boat. It should be a crime to squeeze a large auxiliary engine into the tiny, convoluted space available in the stern quarters of a small sailboat, but scofflaw yacht designers get away with it all the time.

They put the seacocks for the cockpit drains back there. They put the stuffing box for the propeller shaft back there. They put the dipstick for the transmission box back there. And they put other stuff in there that has to be looked at, poked at, adjusted, and maintained every year before the sailing season starts.

And when I say “back there” I’m talking about a space that’s mostly filled with oily engine, an irregular space under the cockpit with sloping floors and curved walls. It’s a space you can’t even get to on most boats unless you empty an adjacent, claustrophobic, cockpit locker and ooze yourself inside. Even then, if you can find a way to contort your body so you don’t slide head-first into the murky bilgewater, you won’t be able to reach every nut that needs turning or lever that needs to be unfrozen because your arms simply aren’t long enough.

Once you’re in there you can’t turn around. When you’re done, you have to back out. People regularly get cramps and find they’re stuck in position. I know of at least man who had to be rescued with the Jaws of Life by the local fire brigade. He would undoubtedly have starved to death had he not been equipped with a cell phone to call for help.

A sailor called Charlie Brenton was talking about this much-feared annual ritual on the Cape Dory bulletin board the other day. Here are his thoughts:

“Since most of us did not purchase our Cape Dorys new, many are unaware that Cape Dory did require prospective owners to pass a specific physical examination before purchase. Original Cape Dory owners were required to be less than 5 feet 4 inches tall and to weigh less than 120 pounds. Waist size was not to exceed 28 inches. Arm length was critical. It was required that the new owner prove that he could tie his shoes without bending over. Once these requirements were fulfilled, it was furthermore recommended that an additional joint be surgically inserted in the forearm between the elbow and wrist. Many of the spring maintenance problems that skippers experience are directly related to the inability to pass the Cape Dory physical.”

Charlie, who sails a 33-foot Cape Dory sailboat registered in Newington, New Hampshire, apparently did not pass the Cape Dory physical himself, but he has figured out his own personal solution to the problem of squeezing into the black hole back aft:

“Each spring I go on a three-day fast,” he said, “then I roll myself up to the configuration of a beach ball. With the engine room cover removed, my 10-year-old kicks me around the cabin until he is able to boot me over the exhaust riser to the realm beyond. Then I know that I am ready to uncoil and go to work. He throws me a sock full of wrenches, both metric and SAE, a box of Band-Aids and an occasional beer. He then sits enthralled while his Dad adds entirely new words to the English language.”

All I can say is that Charlie’s suggestion of a qualifying physical exam before purchase is a good idea. The fact that it might produce a new race of sailing dwarfs with chimpanzee arms is neither here nor there. At least the damn cockpit seacocks will work as they should.

Today’s Thought
Nothing is so easy but it becomes difficult when done with reluctance.
—Terence, Heauton Timoroumenos

Tailpiece
Notices we noticed:

Outside a church:
“Seven days without God makes one weak.”