Don't believe the weatherguessers

SOMEONE ON TELEVISION the other night was complaining about the accuracy of weather forecasters. They were no better than weatherguessers, she claimed. She said she had checked 17 local forecasts and 15 of them had been wrong.

Well, that’s no news to sailors, of course. We’re used to that sort of misinformation. If we believed all the small-craft advisories and gale warnings up here in the Pacific Northwest we’d never have the nerve to leave harbor.

I’ve always maintained that a barometer, common sense, and experience are a sailor’s three best weather forecasters. And perhaps the old, old weather proverbs handed down to us by our forefathers are useful, too — certainly as good as the forecasts we get around here, anyway.

For instance:

When halo rings the moon or sun

Rain’s approaching on the run

The U.S. Weather Service confirms that rain follows about 75 percent of un halos and about 65 percent of moon halos. Most often, you’re looking at the sun or moon through the ice-crystals of lofty cirrus clouds, and a sky filled with these indicates an approaching warm front and soft, soaking rain.

Beware the bolts from north or west

In south or east the bolts be best.

Um yes, well, duh. Fairly obvious, but also accurate if you live in the north temperate zone where the weather usually travels from west to east. If you spot lightning in the northwest it’s a thunderstorm coming toward you. If it flashes down in the south or east, you can wave it goodbye.

Seagull, seagull, get out on t’ sand.

We’ll ne’er have good weather with thee on t’ land.

That’s a British couplet, of course, but seagulls are much the same the world over. They scavenge on the sea shore when the weather is fair, and they move inland to those delicious waste dumps when it comes over foul.

Regrettably, seagulls don’t seem to be brilliant at forecasting, though. They tend to be more driven by the weather than to anticipate it, so their usefulness to us is definitely limited. Personally, I’d rather rely on the barometer or rings around the sun.

Today’s Thought

To talk of the weather, it’s nothing but folly,

For when it rains on the hill, it shines in the valley.

— Michael Denham, Proverbs

Tailpiece

Little Johnny’s teacher asked him to spell weather.

He thought about it for a while and then said “W-A-E-I-T-H-R.”

“My goodness, remarked his teacher, “That’s the worst spell of weather we’ve had around here for years.”

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

Red sky baloney

I BELIEVE IT WAS JESUS who spread the unconvincing rumor about a red sky at night being a sailor’s delight. In the Bible, (Matthew XVI: 2-3,) Jesus said, “When in evening, ye say, it will be fair weather: For the sky is red. And in the morning, it will be foul weather today; for the sky is red and lowering.” Ever since, His followers have done their best to make a convincing case for this meteorological mythology. But they haven’t convinced me. Like most met forecasts, even those from the highest and most impeccable sources in Heaven, this one is as likely to be wrong as right.

I mean, just think about it. Why should a red sky at night mean good weather the next day? What if there’s a cold front lurking just over the western horizon and it comes screaming through at 5 a.m.? Is that what you’d call a sailor’s delight?

And yet this old canard is quoted as gospel in all kinds of circles. Wikipedia, the self-professed font all knowledge says: “In order to see red clouds in the evening, sunlight must have a clear path from the west in order to illuminate moisture-bearing clouds moving off to the east.” So what? What about the new storm system roaring in from the west overnight?

“Weather systems typically move from west to east,” says Wiki. Yeah, right. Tell that to anyone in the path of a hurricane racing from Africa to America. Tell that to anyone cruising in the northeast or southeast trades. Typically, Wiki? Typically? Hardly. Only in a few places.

The same kind of brainless forecasting results from a red sky in the morning being a sailor’s warning, of course. And why always a red sky? I’m sure most of us have seen sunrises and sunsets where clouds were reflected in all kinds of gaudy colors.

Pink sky at night
Gay sailors’ delight

Orange sky at night
Fruit-lover’s delight

Almost any color of sky at night would be somebody’s delight. But not necessarily a sailor’s, no matter what the Bible says and Wiki regurgitates.

Today’s Thought
To talk of the weather, it’s nothing but folly,
For when it rains on the hill, it shines in the valley.
— R. H. Barham, The Nurse’s Story

Boaters’ Rules of Thumb, #157
More propeller facts:
-- A decrease of one inch in pitch is good for an increase in shaft revolutions of about 200 rpm.
-- By convention, propeller diameter is marked first, then pitch.
-- The colder and denser the water, the smaller a propeller should be. The rule, based on a starting temperature of 70°F, is that prop diameter should be reduced about 1 percent for every 10 degrees drop in water temperature.

Tailpiece
“How do you like your new doctor, Ethel?”
“He’s great. So sympathetic. He makes you feel really ill.”

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

The weather misforecast

SOMEONE ON TELEVISION the other night was complaining about the accuracy of weather forecasts. She said she had checked 17 local forecasts and 15 of them had been wrong.

Well, that’s no news to sailors, of course. We’re used to that sort of misinformation. If we believed all the small-craft advisories and gale warnings up here in the Pacific Northwest we’d never have the nerve to leave harbor.

I’ve always maintained that a barometer, common sense, and experience are a sailor’s three best weather forecasters. And perhaps the old, old weather proverbs handed down to us by our forefathers are useful, too — certainly as good as the forecasts we get around here, anyway.

For instance:

When halo rings the moon or sun
Rain’s approaching on the run

The U.S. Weather Service confirms that rain follows about 75 percent of sun halos and about 65 percent of moon halos. Most often, you’re looking at the sun or moon through the ice-crystals of lofty cirrus clouds, and a sky filled with these indicates an approaching warm front and soft, soaking rain.

Beware the bolts from north or west
In south or east the bolts be best.

Um yes, well, duh. Fairly obvious, but also accurate if you live in the north temperate zone where the weather usually travels from west to east. If you spot lightning in the northwest it’s a thunderstorm coming toward you. If it flashes down in the south or east, you can wave it goodbye.

Seagull, seagull, get out on t’ sand.
We’ll ne’er have good weather with thee on t’ land.

That’s a British couplet, of course, but seagulls are much the same the world over. They scavenge on the sea shore when the weather is fair, and they move inland to those delicious waste dumps when it comes over foul.

Regrettably, seagulls don’t seem to be brilliant at forecasting, though. They tend to be more driven by the weather than to anticipate it, so their usefulness to us is definitely limited. Personally, I’d rather rely on the barometer or rings around the sun.

Today’s Thought
To talk of the weather, it’s nothing but folly,
For when it rains on the hill, it shines in the valley.
— Michael Denham, Proverbs

Boater’s Rules of Thumb, #58
Dock lines. Your springs should be a quarter longer than your boat’s length on deck. The diameter of your dock lines should be 1/8th inch for every 9 feet of boat length.

Tailpiece
Little Johnny’s teacher asked him to spell weather.
He thought about it for a while and then said “W-A-E-I-T-H-R.”
"My goodness," remarked his teacher, “That’s the worst spell of weather we’ve had around here for years.”

Advisory advice

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

WEATHER FORECASTS were very much on my mind when last I singlehanded down the wilderness coast of British Columbia. Every evening I listened to the pessimistic prognostications and soon came to the conclusion that if I waited for good weather I’d never get anywhere. The main concern, for me, was wind direction. With sheltered anchorages 30 to 40 miles apart, a fair gale was okay. Light headwinds were not.

In my part of the world we get what are called “small-craft advisories” via VHF radio when the weather doesn’t look too good. But there seems to be no agreement on what constitutes a “small boat” or at what wind speed to issue an advisory. Mostly the range is from 22 to 33 knots of wind sustained for at least two hours, though some advisories are issued when the forecast is for 18 knots. It depends on local conditions.

Gale-force winds start at 34 knots (Force 8 on the Beaufort Scale), so if you ignore a “small-craft advisory” you could find yourself on the edge of a fully fledged gale. Nevertheless, if you want to get anywhere when you’re cruising, you have to learn when to ignore these advisories with the benefit of your own experience. There is little more frustrating than being bottled up in port because of a series of adverse weather forecasts, especially when the threatened bad weather never materializes.

The fact that even professional weather forecasts are often wrong is not surprising because forecasting is a very inexact science. There are a couple of useful rules I use when I’m doing my own weather forecasting, and one is never to trust a forecast more than three days ahead. Another is that the weather tomorrow will be more like today’s than yesterday’s. And a third is that the barometer is your best friend.

I know one sailor who learned early on to be her own forecaster. Jennifer Moran, who now cruises extensively in Australia, was a cadet reporter on a Durban metro daily newspaper when I first knew her. Every morning she would telephone the weather bureau to get a one-sentence forecast for the front page, and every morning the weather man would mutter and complain. After about a month of that, Jennifer decided she’d had enough of the grumbling. She figured it was pretty easy most mornings at 7 a.m. to tell what kind of day it was going to be, so she made up her own forecast after looking out of the newsroom windows.

This worked well for about six months, and she was wrong only a couple of times. Then she was wrong two days in a row, and someone complained. Her news editor asked where she was getting the reports from, and she confessed. An investigation revealed that the news editor’s secretary was also phoning the same man at the weather bureau every morning for the extended weather report — just 15 minutes before Jennifer called. Little wonder the weather man was disgruntled.

Anyway, they got it sorted out, and the accuracy of the official front-page forecast naturally declined somewhat thereafter. But Jennifer learned a valuable lesson about reporters’ sources — if they get it wrong, you can blame it on them. And there’s plenty of blame to go around, it seems.

Today’s Thought
Looking out of the window is the most important thing if you want to know what’s going on.
— Harold M. Gibson, Chief Meteorologist, NYC Weather Bureau, 30 Mar 84

Boaters’ Rules of Thumb, #39
Steering error. If your steering, or your compass, is out by 5 degrees, you will be one full mile off course for every 11.5 miles run.

Tailpiece
“Bad news, darling — the dog ate your supper.”
“There now, don’t worry, my sweet. We’ll get a new dog tomorrow.”