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New Boat 4 Sled
- Thread starter sleddog
- Start date
"Who's the Fairest of Them All?"
My vote would be for the Santa Cruz 27 first built in 1974 on Hilltop in Soquel in Bill Lee's chicken coop boat shop.
About 145 SC-27's were built. Now a 42 year old design, they remain pretty, strong, fast, ocean-worthy, trailerable, cruiseable, and good value.
http://www.fastisfun.com/wizwisdom/27.html
Overnight on Oct. 2, 1979, a large swell hit Capitola. The surf was breaking outside the mooring field and over the end of the Wharf. All 15 moored boats off Capitola Main Beach broke loose and were driven ashore. The giant surf quickly broke them into bits and pieces, where their sad remnants were put into dumpsters by Public Works.
None survived except for the yellow SC-27 CIAO. Before an appreciative early morning crowd, CIAO did three somersaults before landing on the beach. Local boat builder Jeff Tracey hooked up his truck to CIAO and pulled her up on the Esplanade, where she was loaded on a trailer and taken home, little the worse for wear except a broken mast.
As for being the " fairest" of Santa Cruz built boats, Bill Lee's early brochure for the SC-27 shows just how fair the boat is. Smooth as a baby's butt. Check out the fourth photo.
https://docs.google.com/viewer?a=v&...RvbWFpbnxzYzI3bmNhfGd4OjMwNzg1ZTZlZDVmY2Y1OWM
My vote would be for the Santa Cruz 27 first built in 1974 on Hilltop in Soquel in Bill Lee's chicken coop boat shop.
About 145 SC-27's were built. Now a 42 year old design, they remain pretty, strong, fast, ocean-worthy, trailerable, cruiseable, and good value.
http://www.fastisfun.com/wizwisdom/27.html
Overnight on Oct. 2, 1979, a large swell hit Capitola. The surf was breaking outside the mooring field and over the end of the Wharf. All 15 moored boats off Capitola Main Beach broke loose and were driven ashore. The giant surf quickly broke them into bits and pieces, where their sad remnants were put into dumpsters by Public Works.
None survived except for the yellow SC-27 CIAO. Before an appreciative early morning crowd, CIAO did three somersaults before landing on the beach. Local boat builder Jeff Tracey hooked up his truck to CIAO and pulled her up on the Esplanade, where she was loaded on a trailer and taken home, little the worse for wear except a broken mast.
As for being the " fairest" of Santa Cruz built boats, Bill Lee's early brochure for the SC-27 shows just how fair the boat is. Smooth as a baby's butt. Check out the fourth photo.
https://docs.google.com/viewer?a=v&...RvbWFpbnxzYzI3bmNhfGd4OjMwNzg1ZTZlZDVmY2Y1OWM
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Cover Craft
New member
Slow reply. It took a while to write a book but you asked for it.
(Sled – I think we've only met very briefly a couple of times.)
I got a phone call one evening during the last few weeks of my senior year of high school (Palisades High School, Class of '74) from a man named Art Biehl, owner of Witchcraft. He was from some yacht club I'd never heard of in Northern California – Richmond YC. I had no inkling that 42 years later I'd have been a member of that club for over 30 years.
One of his crew for the upcoming race had to drop out due to a health issue (anybody remember Dave Killian?) and Art had been asking around at California YC (Marina del Rey) for a replacement. I had been crewing in the local ocean races quite a bit and he'd been referred to me. He was interviewing several potential crew and my dinghy racing experience was a big plus for him. Of course before I could answer I had to see about school, so the next morning I was at the principal’s office. In those more relaxed days all I had to do was to get all my teachers to sign off on agreeing to my absence for the last two weeks of school, and fortunately they all thought that I'd learn a lot more sailing to Tahiti than sitting at a desk.
So it was a flurry of getting a passport and a one-way ticket home and packing my sea bag. Art had a strict requirement that your entire kit couldn't weigh more than 20 lbs. Including foulies. But somehow I made it to Tahiti with a clean and dry set of shore clothes. I think we did a practice sail or two and sailed Witchcraft down to San Pedro for the start.
The boat was quite an anomaly for the time, very light, a very crude interior, just 6 pipe berths, a piece of plywood over the keel that might very generously be called a cabin sole, and a fitted bucket under the leaky forward hatch for the head. The sink was a plastic bucket that was also used for rinsing the decks, showers, and whatever else. A large stringer each side under the lower berth formed the storage bins for all the canned food. An air-cooled Wankel engine just aft of the mast step was there to satisfy the requirements; on the rare occasions when actual propulsion was desired, an outboard was hung on the stern but that didn't go along on races. We sailed in and out of the slip. I think Witchcraft was Bill Lee's second design, the first being Magic which I'd watched in amazement from my Dad's Ranger 26 a few years earlier as it passed us quickly in the night on an Ensenada Race. Far more famous than Witchcraft was Chutzpah, hull # 2 from the same mold but with much less ballast and a much taller rig. One step at a time in yacht design. The mold eventually found its way to Lancer Yachts where it became the Lancer 36. “Bill Lee Design!”
The race was fantastic from my point of view, not because we did well (we didn't) but for the sailing, 24+ days at sea, a wide variety of weather, becoming a shellback with full ceremony, the stunning sunsets rolling in waves of color from horizon to horizon. The other crew (Wally Geer, Bob Lord, and Flamenco dancer and future yacht designer Richard Black) were all great friends and mentors to this young punk.
Some of the highlights... The lower screw of the headstay turnbuckle broke loudly a couple days out on a windy jib reach, possibly due to its being used to fasten the dock lines (no mooring cleats to save weight). Don't do that! Those were the days of jib hanks and wire luffs in heavy air sails so the rig stayed up. We were able to scavenge parts from the below deck rigging to repair it. And the albatrosses! My favorite bird ever since.
By far the most exquisite time I've ever experienced at sea was one day in the trade winds when we came upon a vast congregation of dolphins. First a few, then more and more until there were dolphins everywhere as far as you could see in every direction, jumping, tail spinning, surfing 6 or 8 abreast. There had to be at least a thousand of them. It went on for a couple of hours, we were all just sitting there in slack-jawed amazement.
Even then there was a lot of plastic trash floating around in the ITCZ. Lots of Styrofoam cups. Ugh.
The skipper had been a navigator in the Navy and it showed. He'd set up for evening or morning stars with a couple of us recording and taking times and come out with 5 or 6 of 7 LOPs in a tight polygon a mile or so across. Art set a really a good example of seamanship. When we got to Papeetee he brought us into the quay (a lee shore) and moored stern-to, anchor off the bow, under sail. Not many people would even attempt that especially in these days of bow thrusters.
One of the things that has really stayed with me is how close friends you become with the other crew. Night watches are great!
After the race and a few days on Tahiti and a few on Moorea it was a long plane ride home, then off to school and then a career working on boats. I've always wanted to get back there by boat... maybe an airplane will have to suffice.
Tom Krase
I actually have a paper copy of that brochure and price list. They came with the boat. The price list is entertaining in the way it displays shifting costs. Most items have doubled, tripled, quadrupled (or more) in cost over the past 35 years the VHF was very expensive back then. Although, it did have 12 channels!
And then this past weekend up in Alameda I came across an old girl in dire need of a face lift (and more?). One of the earlier mintings with the recessed running lights in the hull. Still floating but I fear the economics of the situation doom some of these forlorn creatures to finish their days without access to the resources required for the surgery as those who hunt up a 4 or 5 thousand dollar vessel with a good pedigree rarely spend tens of thousands on refurbishment. I did, however, also see what I think was the former Jersey Girl (does anyone else remember the voluptuous girl emblazoned on that rudder?) in the yard the week prior getting a fresh paint topsides and bottom.
Philpott
Cal 2-27 Dura Mater
Of course you did, Howard. Tell us more.
Cover Craft
New member
The one that gets me is the sail cover for $75. Since that's my business I just priced one, it's $396. Yow!
Cover Craft
New member
Too bad he didn't get to do the race. For years I carried around my participation trinket from the race with his name on it because the crew change was too late to show up in the paperwork. Really paperwork back then. I think I got rid of that thing while purging before heading to Mexico in the Constellation.
Tom
Tom
Category 5 Cyclone Winston just scored a bulls-eye on Fiji. Strongest cyclone on record in those waters, causing heartbreaking devastation and a mounting death toll.
Before landfall, someone officially measured Winston with sustained 160 knot winds, gusting 195 knots. How do they do that?
Ron Holland checked in aboard M-5, ex-MIRABELLA 5, one of his larger designs. What the hell they were doing cruising Fijian waters this time of year is difficult to fathom. I guess being aboard the largest sloop in the world at 255 feet, air conditioned, with a mast too tall to clear under the Golden Gate bridge, one can mount a certain amount of panache while risking everything.
Hope they got the float plane on the aft deck well tied down before the breeze set in.
Before landfall, someone officially measured Winston with sustained 160 knot winds, gusting 195 knots. How do they do that?
Ron Holland checked in aboard M-5, ex-MIRABELLA 5, one of his larger designs. What the hell they were doing cruising Fijian waters this time of year is difficult to fathom. I guess being aboard the largest sloop in the world at 255 feet, air conditioned, with a mast too tall to clear under the Golden Gate bridge, one can mount a certain amount of panache while risking everything.
Hope they got the float plane on the aft deck well tied down before the breeze set in.
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The biggest surf since 1969 pounded the North Shore of Oahu yesterday, with waves to 50 feet temporarily closing 12 miles of shoreline Kam Highway from Haleiwa to Kahuku. With a brief lull of 30 foot surf today, the forecast is for even bigger waves tomorrow. Thanks to Captain Bob at Sunset Beach for the below photo:
Organizers of the Eddie Aikau big wave surf contest have given a green light for Thursday (tomorrow) morning, meaning if conditions are right, The "Eddie Would Go" contest will be held for only the ninth time in 30 years.
A mini-city is being assembled at Waimea Bay complete with grandstands. 30,000 spectators are expected for the invitational only "Eddie", which is only held when waves are consistently 40 feet for six to eight hours.
With this assemblage, if you live on the North Shore like Captain Bob, you likely won't be driving anywhere tomorrow.
Apparently the Eddie may be viewed online at the World Surf League Website.
Organizers of the Eddie Aikau big wave surf contest have given a green light for Thursday (tomorrow) morning, meaning if conditions are right, The "Eddie Would Go" contest will be held for only the ninth time in 30 years.
A mini-city is being assembled at Waimea Bay complete with grandstands. 30,000 spectators are expected for the invitational only "Eddie", which is only held when waves are consistently 40 feet for six to eight hours.
With this assemblage, if you live on the North Shore like Captain Bob, you likely won't be driving anywhere tomorrow.
Apparently the Eddie may be viewed online at the World Surf League Website.
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Good to hear from Synthia, sailmaker to SSS, that CHESAPEAKE safely made St.Helena on their passage from Cape Town to Trinidad.
St. Helena Island, first discovered by the Portuguese in 1502, lies in the tropical South Atlantic and is one of the World's most remote inhabited islands.
Later, Napoleon was exiled to St. Helena, where he lived out his days, ultimately making St.Helena a tourist attraction, as does swimming with whale sharks, which were apparently licking their largish lips when Synthia went snorkling by.
Here's the 411 from Synthia on their first day ashore at St. Helena.
When we arrived Sunday evening we were instructed to contact the port captain for further instructions regarding clearing customs and integration at 8:45 Monday morning. Once contacted, one of his first questions was "is everyone aboard healthy?" or something along those lines, and with our affirmative reply thus completed our "quarantine" and we were instructed to come ashore and proceed directly to the customs office along the wharf where the water taxi would drop us off. Clearing customs basically involves the skipper answering some questions about their boat and then paying a fee to enter the country while the crew just tags along chitty-chatting with the other office workers in the room and checking out the stuff that's thumb tacked to the office walls. Then we were instructed to proceed over to immigration, across the street come the police station and next to the prison. Arriving there, we all, including crew, filled out an immigration form, basically duplicating the info on our passports plus the name and policy number of our health insurance that would evacuate us off the island if necessary, and the skipper paid some more money. Then: welcome to St Helena, have a good day. And off we went to find a bank to get British pounds currency. There is a local joint in town called the Consulate Hotel where all the cruisers seem to congregate, share sea tales, buy wifi time, and eat. So we went there next.
After finishing up a yummy piece of carrot cake and drip coffee (French press) I'd sort of had my fill of listening in on shared cruising tales so I wandered into town to explore; browsing through shops; taking video and photos of homes, gardens, churches, etc.; visited the castle (really, a castle), and the museum. This place is like something out of Disneyland, a man made fantasy, but it's real and over 500 years are old. Abundant delights indeed!
Today started with plans for a day tour of the island with a few other cruisers and a hired car, or as the case may be, a pickup truck with bench seats along the sides and a frame/cover over the top. Robert was quite knowledgeable about the history or the island and happily shared it with us as he drove us up and over and here and there. We saw forts, we saw churches, we saw Boer POW encampments, we saw mountain peaks, we saw cow pastures, and mules, we saw the governor's Plantation House where the world's oldest reptile Jonathan the Tortoise lives, we saw Napoleon's last residence in exile and where he died, we saw the new airport under construction (current access to the island is by ship, commercial and private), we saw the Wirebird, the last surviving endemic (found only on St Helena) land bird. On our way to see Bonie's tomb followed by a tour of the St Helens Distillery,... the truck gear box (or something) failed and we were stranded. But the island being an island, word got back to the tourist office and a bus was sent to fetch us, but delivering us back to town so we missed the the best touristy bits, the grave yards and the booze.
Returning to town prematurely meant the shops were still open so I found my way to the upholstery shop that is listed in the tourist map as the sail repair shop. The lady who runs the shop was delighted to meet a "real" sailmaker and was happy to chat with me for some time, and her husband showed me about when a "pesky customer" walked in and wanted to talk business. How rude!
From there I wandered back towards the water front hoping to spend some more time in the museum but alas, past 4 PM and closed, so I sat in the Castle gardens and watched the doves and Mynah birds do bird stuff.
St. Helena Island, first discovered by the Portuguese in 1502, lies in the tropical South Atlantic and is one of the World's most remote inhabited islands.
Later, Napoleon was exiled to St. Helena, where he lived out his days, ultimately making St.Helena a tourist attraction, as does swimming with whale sharks, which were apparently licking their largish lips when Synthia went snorkling by.
Here's the 411 from Synthia on their first day ashore at St. Helena.
When we arrived Sunday evening we were instructed to contact the port captain for further instructions regarding clearing customs and integration at 8:45 Monday morning. Once contacted, one of his first questions was "is everyone aboard healthy?" or something along those lines, and with our affirmative reply thus completed our "quarantine" and we were instructed to come ashore and proceed directly to the customs office along the wharf where the water taxi would drop us off. Clearing customs basically involves the skipper answering some questions about their boat and then paying a fee to enter the country while the crew just tags along chitty-chatting with the other office workers in the room and checking out the stuff that's thumb tacked to the office walls. Then we were instructed to proceed over to immigration, across the street come the police station and next to the prison. Arriving there, we all, including crew, filled out an immigration form, basically duplicating the info on our passports plus the name and policy number of our health insurance that would evacuate us off the island if necessary, and the skipper paid some more money. Then: welcome to St Helena, have a good day. And off we went to find a bank to get British pounds currency. There is a local joint in town called the Consulate Hotel where all the cruisers seem to congregate, share sea tales, buy wifi time, and eat. So we went there next.
After finishing up a yummy piece of carrot cake and drip coffee (French press) I'd sort of had my fill of listening in on shared cruising tales so I wandered into town to explore; browsing through shops; taking video and photos of homes, gardens, churches, etc.; visited the castle (really, a castle), and the museum. This place is like something out of Disneyland, a man made fantasy, but it's real and over 500 years are old. Abundant delights indeed!
Today started with plans for a day tour of the island with a few other cruisers and a hired car, or as the case may be, a pickup truck with bench seats along the sides and a frame/cover over the top. Robert was quite knowledgeable about the history or the island and happily shared it with us as he drove us up and over and here and there. We saw forts, we saw churches, we saw Boer POW encampments, we saw mountain peaks, we saw cow pastures, and mules, we saw the governor's Plantation House where the world's oldest reptile Jonathan the Tortoise lives, we saw Napoleon's last residence in exile and where he died, we saw the new airport under construction (current access to the island is by ship, commercial and private), we saw the Wirebird, the last surviving endemic (found only on St Helena) land bird. On our way to see Bonie's tomb followed by a tour of the St Helens Distillery,... the truck gear box (or something) failed and we were stranded. But the island being an island, word got back to the tourist office and a bus was sent to fetch us, but delivering us back to town so we missed the the best touristy bits, the grave yards and the booze.
Returning to town prematurely meant the shops were still open so I found my way to the upholstery shop that is listed in the tourist map as the sail repair shop. The lady who runs the shop was delighted to meet a "real" sailmaker and was happy to chat with me for some time, and her husband showed me about when a "pesky customer" walked in and wanted to talk business. How rude!
From there I wandered back towards the water front hoping to spend some more time in the museum but alas, past 4 PM and closed, so I sat in the Castle gardens and watched the doves and Mynah birds do bird stuff.
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Without intending to hijack Sled's enormously entertaining and illuminating thread, I can't think of a more apt place to share the story of Wisdom, the sexagenarian albatross who just hatched what may be her 40th chick on Midway Island:
http://news.nationalgeographic.com/2016/02/160211-albatrosses-mothers-babies-animals-science/
Estimates are that she may have traveled in excess of 3 million miles in her lifetime, a staggering 46 thousand miles for each of her estimated 65 years. Chandler Robbins, the scientist who first banded Wisdom in 1956 is also still among us and active. An amazing tale of shared longevity.
Running across Wisdom's story this morning reminded me of the black footed albatross who kept me company on the morning of my fourth day of last year's Slo-pac. I had momentary visions of dental floss harnesses and an albatross tow but I am sure the honest bird would have turned me in to the RC. (With apologies to the beautiful bird. The stupid phone picture does her no justice.)
http://news.nationalgeographic.com/2016/02/160211-albatrosses-mothers-babies-animals-science/
Estimates are that she may have traveled in excess of 3 million miles in her lifetime, a staggering 46 thousand miles for each of her estimated 65 years. Chandler Robbins, the scientist who first banded Wisdom in 1956 is also still among us and active. An amazing tale of shared longevity.
Running across Wisdom's story this morning reminded me of the black footed albatross who kept me company on the morning of my fourth day of last year's Slo-pac. I had momentary visions of dental floss harnesses and an albatross tow but I am sure the honest bird would have turned me in to the RC. (With apologies to the beautiful bird. The stupid phone picture does her no justice.)
Thanks, DM. And thanks, JohnS. I encourage "hi-jacking" for any reason one may find worthy. Wisdom, the 65 year old Laysan albatross from Midway, having flown nearly 3 million miles and hatched 30 chicks, is a most wonderful story.
Wednesday was to be a memorable day, beginning early with a sunrise green flash sparkling for a count of five through the 3 mile distant coastal eucalyptus.
We drove up Hwy 1 from Santa Cruz to the Golden Gate. For much of the 40 miles to HMB, the fields and hills were carpeted with intense yellow. I know Death Valley is having a similar, once in 10 year bloom. But this is closer to home.
Far below the vertical cliffs, large ocean swells were sending explosions skyward as they thundered ashore. At the west end of Half Moon Bay airport, a road west and upward led to the east end of Ocean Blvd. We parked, and hiked the Jean Lauer trail towards Pillar Point and its unearthly radomes. Surfers at Maverick's, a mile south, looked smaller than ants against a background of mountainous waves.
Across the Golden Gate we exited for the Marin Headlands, and followed the coast towards Pt. Bonita Lighthouse. At one point the one-way road narrowed and dropped down an 18% grade for a half mile. As I downshifted into 1st, I could only glance at what looked like the Potato Patch "going off."
We parked at Rodeo Beach and gazed seaward in wonder. As far as the eye could see, and we had binoculars, the north lobe of the horseshoe shaped San Francisco Bar was breaking. The Potato Patch (Four Fathom Bank on charts) began a half mile offshore. We were looking into a sea of cresting and curling, foaming and frothing breakers where a small boat on an ebb tide would likely not survive.
Properly impressed, we hiked uphill to the site of the old Nike Missile Base, now the Marine Mammal Center. What a wonderful and interesting place. Part of the missile storage has been converted into tanks for the mixing and filtration of salt water continuously pumped into the many pools of the MMC.
The Marine Mammal Center specializes in rescuing, rehabilitating, and releasing marine mammals who are injured, ill, or abandoned. The MMC also serves as a center for environmental research and education about marine mammals, mostly cetaceans (whales and dolphins) and pinnipeds (harbor seals, fur seals, sea lions, and the occasional stellar sealion). Otters usually go to Monterey Bay Aquarium for rehab.
At the Center, distressed mammals, and occasionally turtles, receive specialized veterinary care, are diagnosed, treated, rehabilitated, and ideally released back into the ocean, usually up at Chimney Rock at Pt. Reyes.
Elephant seal weaners, 75 pounds at birth and separated from their mothers, were squalling loudly. Juvenile sea lions were racing around the perimeter decks of their pools. A spotless kitchen of a dozen volunteers with industrial blenders were preparing the special fish smoothies for their barking guests, of whom approximately 60% survive and are able to be returned to the ocean.
Unfortunately, not all make it, and El Nino has been especially hard on the young sea lions. Most sobering, and ominous, was the front and center Ghost Net Monster sculpture, created from 450 pounds of nets and trash found in the stomach of a deceased 51 foot sperm whale that came ashore.
The Marine Mammal Center and its research and educational programs: worth a visit. Worthy of support.
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Sharp-eyed singlehanders can encounter Laysan and Black Footed albatross close offshore the California Coast all the way to Hawaii. Albatross are notorious ship followers, knowing a potential meal may be coming their way.
Albatross need about 11 knots of wind to dynamically soar, wave to wave, without flapping. Dynamically soaring, up crests, down slopes, and crosswise over waves allows albatross to exceed the true wind while making apparent wind, expending less energy than sitting on a nest while flying for hours, even days on end.
In glassy conditions, albatross will rest on the ocean's surface. It isn't until the ocean becomes rippled that they can reach take off speed, sometimes energetically paddling a mile or more to get airborne. With the requisite 11 knots of true wind, albatross can spread their 6.5 foot wings and take-off without paddling much at all.
I spent sunup this morning with a bird at the other end of the scale from an albatross, an Anna's hummingbird I've nick-named Andre'. Andre' is about the size of my little finger, weighs less than a nickel, and has a fierce countenance. He can ascend vertically 100 feet in the blink of an eye, and effortlessly hover overhead, nearly out of sight.
Andre' has been a cliff side friend for four years. In the warming sunlight, Andre' appeared and landed on his favorite nearby willow twig while I watched the surfers below. Andre' seemed inquisitive, fluttering, and alternatively displaying his tail feathers and mohawk headdress like a pint-sized tom turkey.
We spent about 30 minutes looking each other's way. My binoculars could bring Andre' into close focus. He invariably lands on his favorite twig facing northwest, towards land, presumably so his back is warmed by the sunrise, and he can watch the early morning dogwalkers and joggers.
At one point this morning, Andre' took off to intercept a passing gull. On his return, Andre' landed on a closer willow twig, maybe 7 feet away. I imagined he seemed agitated or excited. With a hummingbird heart rate of 15-20/second, hummers are high speed in a different way from the wandering albatross.
I could hear Andre' singing with his partially opened beak. The notes were soft, barely audible, even at close distance. I've heard Andre sing as many as 3 different notes. Which is why I call him Andre', the operatic hummingbird.
I took a 6 foot, broken off, bare willow branch, with twigs at its end, and slowly extended the branch in Andre's direction. The little hummer, with the iridescent ruby throat and emerald green back, tilted his head, trying to figure out what was coming. He didn't seem afraid.
My extended willow branch touched Andre's perch, and jiggled him a bit. I extended the willow branch as far as I could reach, about an inch from Andre's breast.
I couldn't hold the extended willow branch outwards very long, maybe a minute. We both wondered what was supposed to happen next.
Andre' disappeared for a moment. I laid my bare willow branch against his nearby perch, the inboard end gripped in my palm. (There's a wooden fence along the cliff, between where I stand and Andre's favorite willow bushes).
Andre returned and landed on the proffered branch. I slowly picked up the inboard end of the willow branch. For a moment Andre' and I were connected. With my arm extended and holding the 4 foot willow branch with a hummingbird bird at the far end, I must have jiggled. Andre' buzzed off, then returned. For the moment the dance was over, maybe to begin anew another morning.
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I wrote last December 22:A shout-out to my dear nephew Jeremy (29) who has taken a year off from the New York Times and is currently on an adventurous singlehanded tour of the Americas.Jeremy left New York City in late Sept., bound towards Tierra Del Fuego on the southern tip of South America. His transportation is a modified KLR 650 motorcycle he setup: Steel panniers, a tarp tent, hammock, and rain suit. USB charging on the bike. Heated vest & grips.
To cross the swampy, roadless and notorious Darien Gap of southern Panama, Jeremy hitched a ride with his hog on a cruising boat transiting the Panama Canal and heading to Cartegena. Just today, Jeremy successfully crossed from southern Columbia into northern Ecuador after a long day on gravel roads of the "Pan American Highway."
Sending congrats and respect to nephew Jeremy on making it from New York to Patagonia, the southern tip of Chile, where he safely arrived in late January. Since then, Jeremy's ridden into Argentina, crossed back over the Andes to Santiago, Chile, to retrieve a young lady he met on the passage south, recrossed the Andes again, and they are now headed across Argentina into Brazil. Holy Guacamole. Jeremy's parents, Tom and Marilee, don't know whether to feel proud, relieved, or terrified. Probably all three. Did I mention Jeremy takes amazing photos while riding his bike?
https://www.instagram.com/p/BBcna0vyD_f/?taken-by=jashkenas
To cross the swampy, roadless and notorious Darien Gap of southern Panama, Jeremy hitched a ride with his hog on a cruising boat transiting the Panama Canal and heading to Cartegena. Just today, Jeremy successfully crossed from southern Columbia into northern Ecuador after a long day on gravel roads of the "Pan American Highway."
Sending congrats and respect to nephew Jeremy on making it from New York to Patagonia, the southern tip of Chile, where he safely arrived in late January. Since then, Jeremy's ridden into Argentina, crossed back over the Andes to Santiago, Chile, to retrieve a young lady he met on the passage south, recrossed the Andes again, and they are now headed across Argentina into Brazil. Holy Guacamole. Jeremy's parents, Tom and Marilee, don't know whether to feel proud, relieved, or terrified. Probably all three. Did I mention Jeremy takes amazing photos while riding his bike?
https://www.instagram.com/p/BBcna0vyD_f/?taken-by=jashkenas
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Philpott
Cal 2-27 Dura Mater
Wow, what a kid! I'm cold sitting here in the sun!!
Ernest, "Shorty," Aderman (1888-1976) stood about five feet three and had the strongest hands, gruffest demeanor, and most fascinating sea stories a young boy could ever imagine.
Shorty was a master mariner and marine photographer, and before he became LAYC club steward in 1942, Shorty sailed on training ships, light house tenders, lifesaving vessels, schooners, barks, steamers, fishing vessels, steam schooners and yachts.
Shorty lived in a small room at the back of the club, where he ran the shoreboat and was the club caretaker. Shorty mostly kept to himself, while affectionately tending his ever increasing population of kittens that lived under the semi-ancient clubhouse.
Occasionally Shorty would let us kids in his smoke stained room and tell fascinating stories of his life at sea. You see, Shorty was a true "Cape Horner," the last of a dying breed, who had rounded Cape Stiff numerous times in tall ships (square riggers.) Over the years, Shorty had worked his way up to the rank of second mate, where he served in that capacity for many years on the FALLS of CLYDE, one of the last working square rigged ships, a four master, and now a national historic landmark and part of the Honolulu Maritime Museum.
Today, while working on the roof of the Harbor Café with Howard, we rigged a rectangular blue awning Howard had designed and sewn. The "squares'l" is meant to keep rain and sun off Harbor Café patrons, and is of unique construction with steel rope guy wires, a yardarm, braces and buntlines, blocks and cleats. By pulling on the appropriate ropes, the awning can be reefed or furrowed according to the weather, much like a squares'l on a full rigged ship.
While aloft on the restaurant roof, rigging H.S.'s awning in benign conditions, I had a vision of what it must have been like for Shorty and his crew on FALLS of CLYDE as they doubled the Horn in a raging gale, furrowing heavy canvas in snow squalls as the ship rolled heavily and the crew aloft balanced precariously on footropes. As the well worn adage went, it was "one hand for the ship and one hand for yourself."
Sometimes when we visited his cabin, Shorty would be doing splices and fine rope work. It was during these times he would quiz us on the sail plan of a four master like FALLS of CLYDE: We learned the spanker, the jigger, the lower jigger topsail, the upper jigger topsail, the jigger topgallant, and jigger skysail. The crojik, lower mizzen topsail, upper mizzen topsail, mizzen topgallant, mizzen royal, mizzen skysail. Then the main course, lower main topsail, upper main topsail, main topgallant, main royal. And on the fore mast was the fore course, lower fore topsail, upper topsail, fore topgallant, and fore royal. Forward was the foretopmast stays'l, the jib, outer jib, and flying jib.
Above all this canvas, higher than any other sail, in fair weather, a four master could fly moonsails or "moonrakers." Shorty, the consummate seaman, did not have kind words for moonrakers. He called them "hope-in-heaven" sails.
Ernest Shorty Aderman. His advice to us kids dreaming of sailing to the South Seas was "bring bigger ground tackle, and beware naked women."
(That's Shorty on the left in the photograph, holding his camera, on FALLS of CLYDE.)
Shorty was a master mariner and marine photographer, and before he became LAYC club steward in 1942, Shorty sailed on training ships, light house tenders, lifesaving vessels, schooners, barks, steamers, fishing vessels, steam schooners and yachts.
Shorty lived in a small room at the back of the club, where he ran the shoreboat and was the club caretaker. Shorty mostly kept to himself, while affectionately tending his ever increasing population of kittens that lived under the semi-ancient clubhouse.
Occasionally Shorty would let us kids in his smoke stained room and tell fascinating stories of his life at sea. You see, Shorty was a true "Cape Horner," the last of a dying breed, who had rounded Cape Stiff numerous times in tall ships (square riggers.) Over the years, Shorty had worked his way up to the rank of second mate, where he served in that capacity for many years on the FALLS of CLYDE, one of the last working square rigged ships, a four master, and now a national historic landmark and part of the Honolulu Maritime Museum.
Today, while working on the roof of the Harbor Café with Howard, we rigged a rectangular blue awning Howard had designed and sewn. The "squares'l" is meant to keep rain and sun off Harbor Café patrons, and is of unique construction with steel rope guy wires, a yardarm, braces and buntlines, blocks and cleats. By pulling on the appropriate ropes, the awning can be reefed or furrowed according to the weather, much like a squares'l on a full rigged ship.
While aloft on the restaurant roof, rigging H.S.'s awning in benign conditions, I had a vision of what it must have been like for Shorty and his crew on FALLS of CLYDE as they doubled the Horn in a raging gale, furrowing heavy canvas in snow squalls as the ship rolled heavily and the crew aloft balanced precariously on footropes. As the well worn adage went, it was "one hand for the ship and one hand for yourself."
Sometimes when we visited his cabin, Shorty would be doing splices and fine rope work. It was during these times he would quiz us on the sail plan of a four master like FALLS of CLYDE: We learned the spanker, the jigger, the lower jigger topsail, the upper jigger topsail, the jigger topgallant, and jigger skysail. The crojik, lower mizzen topsail, upper mizzen topsail, mizzen topgallant, mizzen royal, mizzen skysail. Then the main course, lower main topsail, upper main topsail, main topgallant, main royal. And on the fore mast was the fore course, lower fore topsail, upper topsail, fore topgallant, and fore royal. Forward was the foretopmast stays'l, the jib, outer jib, and flying jib.
Above all this canvas, higher than any other sail, in fair weather, a four master could fly moonsails or "moonrakers." Shorty, the consummate seaman, did not have kind words for moonrakers. He called them "hope-in-heaven" sails.
Ernest Shorty Aderman. His advice to us kids dreaming of sailing to the South Seas was "bring bigger ground tackle, and beware naked women."
(That's Shorty on the left in the photograph, holding his camera, on FALLS of CLYDE.)
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