Month: June 2003

  • Apology to Those Who’ve Left Comments

    E    rm, I have to apologize to those who have left comments and whose comments I have deleted by deleting entire posts of mine. I sort of committed Xanga suicide (completely by accident) this morning by trying to write a table by hand, and forgetting to put the end-table tag at the end. Subsequently, my entire Xanga page was blank, and you know they did a tricky thing with the editing pages. You can’t just type in a URL to get to the editor……. Oh no. What I did instead (for anyone else who is silly enough to do their HTML by hand, and forgetful enough to put the end-table tag after you make a table)…. you can paste and copy the source for the “Edit It” link… INTO another blog from a previous date on another page (which you have to get to by pasting the URL for the “NEXT 5″ entries) and that will pop open the Editing page. Yeah. I know. I’m a dweeb for figuring that out. It took me a whole day to come up with that. :S

  • A Place to Put Down Roots

    L    ight_and_fluffy is lamenting about not having “roots”. I’ve moved around a lot, so I know the feeling. When people ask me where I’m from, I have hard time answering because I’ve lived so many places. When I tell them that, they then ask, “Well then, what’s your origin?” I have a hard time answering that one too. People are so stuck on classifying other people. It’s as irritating as guys in a chat room asking, “Are you m or f?”

    Certain Native American tribes have a large old turtle as part of their creation beliefs. This turtle is called “Grandmother Turtle”. According to something my ex-boyfriend told me, she is believed to carry the world on her back as she floats in the sea which is the Universe. Some myths explain it as, when organisms had to migrate from the sea to the earth, they needed plants to create oxygen for them to breathe. Grandmother Turtle offered her back as a place to put the mud of the Earth, which created a place for the green plants which had formerly been living under the ocean to place their roots.




    The Legend of Grandmother Turtle

    In one of the creation stories told by the Cheyenne, neighbors of the Lakota, before people lived on the earth it was covered by water. The Creator wanted to use mud from under the water to make solid ground, but needed a place to put the mud on top of the water. Turtle rose to the top of the water to carry the mud that became earth. To this day, turtles walk very slowly because they carry the weight of the world on their backs. Some Native Americans refer to the earth as Turtle Island.

    from www.artsmia.org/surrounded-by-beauty/plains/dress_legend.html


    K.C. STAR, 1/20/19’77′. “The Creation” This tale was adapted from a Cheyenne myth from “American Indian Mythology” by Alice Marriott and Carol L. Rachin. It is part of the narrative text of “The People”, a planetarium program on Indian sky lore produced by the Hansen Planetarium of Salt Lake City, Utah. “In the beginning there was nothing, and only the Great Spirit lived in the void. He looked around him but there was nothing to see. He listened, but there was nothing to hear. There was only the Great Spirit, alone in nothingness. The Great Spirit was not lonesome, but as he moved through the endless time of nothingness, it seemed to him that his power should be put to use. For what good is power if it is not used to make a good world, with people to live in it? So the Spirit created the great water. Out of this salty water, he knew, he could bring forth all life that ever was to be. “There should be water beings, “the Great Spirit told his power – and now there were fish swimming in the deep water, then mussels and snails and crawfish. There should be creatures that live on the water”, the Great Spirit said, – . “I would like to see these things I have created”, said the Great spirit, and so a great light began to spread across the east, then rose and grew until it reached the middle of the sky and spread a golden glow around the horizon. And the Great Spirit saw the light, and the birds and fish he had created. – “Give us what you have brought”, said the Great Spirit, and the little coot led fall from his beak a tiny ball of mud.

    “The Great Spirit rolled the ball of mud between his palms and it began to grow larger, until there was too much for the Great Spirit to hold, but there was nowhere to put it because all was water or air. – “Grandmother Turtle”, said the Great Spirit, “do you think that you can help me?” “I am very old and very slow”, said the turtle, “but I will try”. And the Great Spirit piled the mud on her rounded back until Grandmother Turtle was hidden from sight. “So be it”, said the Great Spirit. “Let the earth be known as our Grandmother, and let your Grandmother who carries the earth be the only being who is at home beneath the water, within the earth, or above the ground; the only one who can go anywhere by swimming or by walking as she chooses. And no one shall harm her”. And so it is that Grandmother Turtle and all her descendants must walk very slowly, for they carry the whole weight of the world and all its peoples on their backs.”
    from home.kc.rr.com/hightech/creation/creation108.html

    Other Sites

    www.tortuga.com/college/turtle/5.html

    www.geocities.com/soho/lofts/6812/GTurtle.htm



  • Weekend Plans

    I     suppose all my friends and family would be happy to know that I have been studying about diarrhea, and I think I am the world’s expert on diarrhea right now. Just ask me anything. I am the diarrhea guru.

    So! This weekend, I get to work on infectious diseases! After the weekend, I should be the anthrax guru, the shigella guru, the salmonella guru, and botulism guru. Why? Because my bailers didn’t come in. So my racing boat is not raceable. I am pissed, but oh so excited because instead of racing, I get to learn about deadly diseases! So fun.

    I hate school.

    I have gotten some comments, and I think I will answer some of them within a blog, the way I’ve seen GC_13 and light_and_fluffy do. After all, copy-catting is the highest form of flattery, is it not?

    Flatter-flatter-flatter:

    GREAT Blog…. I have never been sailing but would love to try it. Doo and I have a small Chapparal (20 foot) and it flies like the wind, but that’s because it has a 350 chevy in it. LOL

    I want to learn to sail. I imagine the peacefulness out on the Gulf… I think I could do it.

    Posted 6/24/2003 at 9:56 PM by Wickgal

    I’ve never been sailing on the Gulf. I imagine it is really nice. Someone in a sailing club from a few hours south of me tells me that the military have access to a little island called Dauphin Island, which is somewhere off the coast down there. Their club once rented a little cabin on the island and spent the spring break sailing on the Gulf in little FJs. They said they enjoyed it thoroughly! I imagine the wind is usually pretty good down there!

    Hi Manang Deena! I went kayaking everyday for a week while I was at Catalina. I’m sure its not the same as sailing, but I can honestly say I enjoyed being on the water. The whole time, I was reminded of your passion for sailing. See you soon! Joy

    Posted 6/24/2003 at 10:47 PM by MissMaryJoy

    For those who don’t know, MissMaryJoy is my cousin, whom I’m glad to see is enjoying her college years! I’ve never been kayaking, so you’re one up on me, Joy! I went to Catalina with Auntie Elsie and Enang once, when Daniel was just a little squirt, but all we did was hang out on the tourist beach. What I remember most is that Mom and Auntie Elsie were afraid for Enang to walk on the boat, but she walked like she had sea legs all her life. I guess it runs in the blood, ya know?

    i have like a million tshirts. and most of them are large and xlarge. i don’t know where the hell they all came from. they are good for sleeping in and for grungey days, but are not very cute or flattering. how is the kitten-chicken-poo doing?

    Posted 6/25/2003 at 7:16 AM by Jso

    Hee hee! I’m not the only one, then! That’s nice to know.

    Kitten really does look like a chicken. He has a scrawny little neck. But he’s doing good. We watch him very carefully, to make sure he doesn’t poop on the sofa anymore. He is kicking the other cats’ butts!

    When I was at the vet for his distemper shot, there was this Eastern European woman who brought in her iguana and her ferret. She looked at my kitty and went, “Oh, he’s so cute!” And then she cursed him. She said, “You are going to grow up to be a BEEG MEEN KHAT!”

    Yowie! I told Matt yesterday, and he goes, “Why didn’t you tell me that! You know those Eastern European women! Their curses come true!” Hee hee!

    heh. i’d rather be windsurfing man :)

    Posted 6/26/2003 at 11:41 AM by dwalkingwounded

    Actually me too. But, the windsurfing guy in our club has been sort of hiding the windsurfing boards from me lately. It’s kind of irritating, but I plan to set him straight pretty soon. As soon as I finish learning about tuberculosis, that is.

    Did I say I hate school?


  • E-Scows

    I am so almost tempted to get this T-shirt:

    sal-a sal-b

    But I really could use less T-shirts in my life. I could use a lot less of everything in my life. Everything but sailing, that is.

    That’s an E-scow in the center of the first picture. E-scows are really amazing boats. They are not pleasure cruisers. They are for racing and only racing. Well, if racing is your pleasure, then I guess they *are* pleasure boats.

    They are TOTALLY flat on the bottom. They have a centerboard and that’s about it. So they have very little friction going on there, and when they get fast enough they “plane”.

    e-scow

    waterskiing-behind-escow

    Since they are flat, they are also very TOP-heavy, which means you gotta haul some @$$ when tacking in strong winds to make sure you don’t capsize. I have never sailed on one (and I stress “on” because this is not a boat you can sail “in”), because I’m too chicken$H!t. Hee hee!

    A beauuuuuutiful boat! Maybe the closest thing to it is a Y-Flyer, which is similar but smaller.

    y-flyer

    References updated 8/6/11 to accomodate for links that no longer work:
    1. T-shirts at http://www.historyshirt.com/shirt/cgi/t-shirt.cgi?sal
    2. E-scow pictures originally from http://web.archive.org/web/20060127005951/http://www.mtholyoke.edu/~cfennema/Sailing/
    3. Y-flyer picture originally from http://web.archive.org/web/20030622061310/http://www.lakenormanyachtclub.com/News/events-results.asp?EventID=13

  • To Hike or Not to Hike

    A    fter work yesterday, we rushed to the lake to go sailing. Because of time constraints, we chose a nearby agricultural lake as it’s only 15 minutes away. The water is so scuzzy from farm run-off phosphates and nitrates that when you take your boat out afterwards, there is a brown line of scum where the waterline was. But you can sail on it, and that’s all that matters to me. (I’m just glad we didn’t capsize in it.)

    Matt is getting really good. I’m so happy for him. I think the sailing bug has bitten him too, because he wants to take the racing dinghy (read: “capsizable”) out on the bigger lake next week. I hope he still likes sailing once we’ve capsized.

    I offered him a beachside capsize-lesson, but he says he’d rather not have a lesson at all. My first capsize lesson was in the middle of the lake too. I had no time to be afraid or be shocked. It was either “right the boat” or “wait who-knows-how-many hours for someone to come pick me up”. Thus, my first capsize lesson. Luckily it was in a Sunfish.

    Matt’s still a little bit scared of the wind. He’s so funny to watch. He lets the sheet out everytime there’s a strong blow. He says he doesn’t want to learn to hike out yet because he says he’s “still getting the feel of the sail.” He’s getting there.

    As someone on Xanga mentioned, “I like anything that makes me go faster than I can run or swim.”

  • Oh, You Mean *That* Left!

    M    att and I went sailing again yesterday, and he’s getting really good at it. Except for a minor mishap at the dock, where I tried hoisting the mainsail without cleating the outhaul (OOPS!), we had a great time.

    Our tiller also broke off. That was interesting. It was while we were still trying to get out of the harbor, so I was trying to tack to avoid this powerboat, when I heard this horrible “CRRRACCK!” I looked down and I was holding this amputated tiller. So, while holding the stub of tiller, I tried tying rope around it to fix it at the same time. Matt was yelling at me saying, “What are you doing? We’re heading toward that houseboat!” I said, “I’m FIXING THE *bleep* *bleep* TILLER, *bleep*IT!” He goes, “Oh. Okay.”

    These boats are old.

    When I was done tying the rope around the rudder and the tiller, it looked like some kind of cave-man battle axe I saw in a museum once. But it held. So we were able to sail! I just didn’t point too close to the wind, because I was worried my ropes wouldn’t stay.

    This time, I decided we’d just use the mainsail and let Matt practice figuring out how to sheet in a sail and let it out. He grudgingly agreed, but he picked it up really fast. Then we traded places, and he steered while I did the mainsheet. He is so big! And this dinghy has a really low boom. So, when we jibe, he has to lean out the back of the boat to keep the boom from hitting him. On his first jibe, he made a weird grunt, and I looked back to see if he was okay. He said, “I’m fine! I was just worried about it hitting me in the balls!”

    Anyway, next time we might add the jibsail. And then try the spinnaker! Whee!

    Jso has made a nice Mission Statement. I do that a lot too. I think it’s a very good practice to keep one focused on what is important in one’s life. There are always lots of people telling me what they think is important, but it only is important to them. Reminding myself of what I want and need keeps me from being distracted by others who are trying to get me to do things I don’t need or want to do.

    I used to think all I wanted to do was help people. Yah, cliche, I know. So I went into research and medicine. Now I realize, lots of people don’t want my help, or need my help. And sometimes when you help people, they hurt you. I can take a little of that shit, but not a lot. And so, I spend more of my time helping myself.

    My Old Mission Statement:
    1. To graduate with my M.D.-Ph.D. and do excellent research on cystic fibrosis and cell signal transduction.
    2. To meet someone with an M.D.-Ph.D. like me and get married.
    3. To have one kid and only one kid.
    4. To have a house on a mountain top next to large body of water.

    My New-Improved Mission Statement:
    1. To finish medical school.
    2. To have at least one kid, and maybe more.
    3. To have a house where Matt can watch his tornadoes, where Buddy can run around without a leash on and without getting run over, and where the cats can sun and not get stepped on.
    4. To sail in the Pacific with Matt and Buddy.
    5. To work in countries where medical care is really needed and appreciated, and where I don’t necessarily have to be paid to survive.

  • Sailing Newbies

    M    att is learning to sail. We went sailing together for the first time last week, and I was kind of surprised at how much he didn’t know. For example, he didn’t know that you can go into the wind and still move forward under sail power. I, too, can remember when I thought one could only go downwind under sail power. So, he was confused when I told him to “head up”.

    I have to remember to be patient with him, because sailing terminology, at least in English, isn’t always what it seems.

    For example, I can remember the first time someone told me to “fall off”.

    I was like, “WHAT?”

    “FALL OFF!”

    How the heck are you supposed to know what that means? Surely that didn’t mean to purposefully jump off the boat!

    Anyway, so I explained to Matt that it means to point the boat DOWNWIND. He goes, “Why can’t they just say that then? Turn downwind.” His theory is that sailors are stubborn about tradition, and don’t want to change it so that it makes sense to normal everyday people.

    Then there’s the term “Head Up”. I am very familiar with the terms “DUCK!” (boom coming across!!!) or “Heads Up!” or “Fore!” (golf ball coming at your head) But “Head Up”?

    To “head up” refers to “heading upwind” — the opposite of “falling off”. Why we can’t just say “point upwind”, I dunno.

    Anyway, so Matt borrowed my sailing books and now he knows why a sailboat goes faster perpendicular to the wind than it can go downwind. “It’s the same theory as airplane wings,” he says. “I understand that.”

    Yay!

  • Twister

    T    oday, someone new joined our club. I told him the boats were old, but I think even he was kind of surprised at just HOW old they are. He told me he has done fiberglass work before, and so I laughed when he told me that, and said we welcome his skills!

    In other news, our windsurfing guru in the club found a deal for some good new boards and sails to update our antiquated quiver. He and I will split the costs of the new equipment, and hopefully get reimbursed by the University in the fall. Hopefully.

    Then Matt and I went sailing today!!!! FINALLY! My God, I haven’t been sailing since early early this year when the water was freezing cold. Today it was swelteringly hot. It was HOT. HOT.

    The weather report said it was 21 degrees Celsius, but with the humidity, I swear it was more like 37 degrees out there. Matt and I got out on the water, and it was DEAD. We had to row out of the harbor again, and we puttered around in like 1 knot of wind. I was cussing and crying, and finally 3 hours later, I gave up and we decided to head back to the dock.

    By Murphy’s Law, the wind started up just as we were pulling into the dock. A nice northerly breeze, maybe 7 knots. I grinned at Matt and said, “Wanna go back out?” He said, “Sure!”

    So although it was about 5:30 PM, we headed back out. While we were out there, the breeze got up to maybe 15-20 knots! (That’s about as high as it ever gets here, too, dwalkingwounded.) I had a hard time telling Matt how to tack, as that was his first time sailing in a small dinghy. He refused to sit up front and work the jib, so I had to do the mainsheet from the front, which was REALLY awkward on the boat that we had chosen to take out. But it was really fun, and I think we even reached hull speed! Then, it started getting darker and darker, and thunder started to rumble in the east.

    Matt likes storms, and he understands cloud formations better than I do. So, when he started getting worried at the dark clouds spreading to the east, we headed back to the dock. While we were still in the harbor, trying to get back to the dock, the lightning was starting to crack just south of us. It was quite freaky being in a little boat with a huge tall mast that screams, “STRIKE ME! I’M THIS BIG TALL METAL THING IN THE MIDDLE OF A LARGE BODY OF WATER! STRIKE ME!!!”

    Anyway, we reached the dock just as some jetskiiers were coming in too. While we were all getting our stuff back onto the trailers, the tornado sirens sounded. If you have ever lived in tornado country, you know that when the sirens go off, a tornado has been sighted in your area. So we hustled on out of there, and turned on the weather news on the car radio. Turned out, two tornados had touched down not too far from us.

    So, today was a first for me! Sailing in tornado weather! Whee!

  • Racing with the Wind

    B    eing mostly Chinese, I’m naturally very stingy. So, every now and then I grumble about how much money I end up spending to keep our sailing club alive. But then, I see how far we’ve come from just a few years ago, and I feel better. From a handful of broken boats, we now have a fleet of 10. From immoveable heavy boats, we now have 5 boat trailers and a car that members can use to tow club boats to different lakes. A cute little Sunfish that wouldn’t otherwise have been sailed was donated to us and will now be used to help more people learn to sail.

    Aside from seeing a group come together and grow, I still get a thrill out of attending a regatta or a race. There’s a feeling of camaraderie among sailors which cannot be matched in any group I’ve been in — skydivers, rockclimbers, SCUBA divers, astronomers, windsurfers. Sailors are competitive, but they also enjoy each other’s company, and there are rough times when we will need that friendship to help us get through things. We all need a place to belong.

    When I was in Berkeley, and got really grumpy studying for final exams, my roomie who was from Singapore laughed at me and called me “kiasu”. That’s a Chinese word for someone who has a Type A personality, to put it nicely. She’s kind of right. At first I was a little offended, but in truth, to be successful in this world, sometimes you have to push the limits and not be satisfied with people telling you that things can’t be done.

    So, if “kiasu” is what helped me build the sailing club, that’s precisely what I am.


    A Post About Sailboat Racing By Someone On My Mailing List


    I could just imagine the moment oh those many moons ago. Two fishermen on some part of the Arabian Sea spot each other heading back into port to unload fish. First in gets the best price at market and one of the Sheiks younger wives. The captains, beat from sandals to ghutra call out some sail trim, tweak the stearingboard on the Dhow and start looking for puffs. The First race is on.

    Racing is not about the boat. Men and women will take cardboard boxes with plastic paddles and race them across a river. Shipping companies raced Clippers, Schooners, and steamships for profit and honor. Today on any given Wednesday night during the summer you will see thoroughbreds racing next to plugs around the cans, and sometimes the plugs win. Racing is not about the boat, but about the challenge, the desire to get those fish in just ahead of the next skipper and get the prize. Forget about the boat, and look at what makes us race.

    Perhaps the first question is why race? Why take a collection of floating parts and push it around the water in a circle? One answer may not seem to be the most obvious, but it carries the most weight. Racing improves the art, the skill of sailing and makes a better captain. Racing teaches a sailor how to make the boat move, really move in all conditions. Light air, near gales, gusts, shifts, holes; all are ultimately experienced and with enough practice, handled without much thought. It forces you to sail,
    and keep sailing even as the conditions change. Look about on a light air day and watch the boats on the water. It will not be hard to pick out those boats with racing experience. Spend a year racing, attempting to cross the line first and after one year your sailing skills will have increased hundredfold over a sailor who just waits for the perfect day.

    Let us not forget the prize. Racing is also about the prize. Not the trophy, not even the money (if there was any), but the true prize is the recognition of accomplishment by peers. Fellow sailors saying, “This
    guy is good!” The camaraderie found in common battle. A trophy just sits on a wall or shelf, static and unseen most of the time. But start making a mark on the water and it is the name, the reputation that becomes the ultimate trophy. We are a competitive society. For good or bad we measure how well we do in almost any task. Racing is just another way for us to get those 15 minutes of fame, even it is with the local club. It is not just about being first, but about being the best. There are people who have come from dead last at the beginning of the year to top third at the end. Yes, the top gun won the trophy, but it was the new skipper who really won the season. Racing is about finding out where the bar is set within yourself and trying to raise the bar.

    This sport is not for everyone. If it were [for everyone] then the waters would be a sea of white on the weekends and more couples would be arguing over who’s [sic] activity comes first. This is not an activity to be entered into lightly because it carries a responsibility and a curse. The responsibility is to act with and treat others with respect. Racing is not a solo sport. Boats duck and cross, working within inches of other boats at times. Skippers not only need to understand what they are doing but try to anticipate actions of those around. One disrespectful sailor and the dance falls a part. Racers have to learn respect and taking responsibility when they fail or it become anarchy on the course. The curse is really a blessing. An acquired taste, getting started can be like the first time learning to drive. Scary,
    overwhelming, but tinged with excitement of what can be. Each time you go, the excitement builds, the comfort builds, and confidence builds. One day, realization occurs that the hook is set and racing is in the blood. Everyone has their own level of commitment, of intensity, but make no doubt, even on a day cruise with the family, a sailor with the bug will sail just that little bit better because they want to win. It is not about the boat, but the spirit, the desire to do better that makes racing sailboats worthwhile. Those first two Arabian skippers didn’t care that their dhows weren’t designed for racing; they cared about how to get home first.

    Justin P. Hull
    #5062 – Glinda



  • How Do You Choose a Boat (or Does It Choose You)?

    I     recently subscribed to a mailing list for local sailors, and I always like to hear the stories people tell of how they started sailing. Maybe it’s simply because sailors like to spin a yarn, but the stories always seem to involve a little bit of romance and luck and maybe fate, too.

    Here’s a story by a guy on the mailing list:


    Date: Sat Jun 7, 2003 7:43 am
    Subject: Why I bought a Buccaneer

    On a Sunday afternoon I had the opportunity to turn left and go home or turn right and drive a couple of miles out of my way up the road to see what the local sailboat place had in their yard. What I really wanted was a closer look at the 1920s design 17 square meter sloop that he had just rebuilt. The boat had a natural mahogany hull, finished in bright varnish, narrow beam and the sheer line, beautiful entrance and stern rise and overhang that gives me the chills. What a gorgeous piece of work….

    The owner is a recluse; a collector of stuff and I had wanted to see the boat before it was removed from the public eye.

    I was going to leave, but something held me back.

    The mahogany sloop had gotten my mind churning, I remembered my first ride in a plywood Lightning in 1957, I was seven at the time. In 1960 my Dad had purchased a 9 ft sailing dinghy, I was 10 and my brother was 18. Dad had decided that we might want to learn how to sail.

    My Father was a sailor in his younger days, recently, in 1959; he had turned to power boating. Part of his courting, my Mother to be, ritual involved a 1936 wooden gaff rigged sloop. I have seen pictures of this boat. Must have weighed a ton and been very slow, but I digress.

    My Brother and I learned how to sail that summer. My first solo sail was when I felt the boat lurch, and upon turning around saw that my Brother had slipped overboard. “You can do it you don’t need me” he said as he swam ashore. He was like that.

    Our family kept, and I sailed that 9 ft dinghy well into my late forties, when I passed it unto another Father and Son.

    My mind wandered to the summers that I crewed as rail meat for my Father’s friend who raced a 210 on Gull Lake in Michigan and to the times my Brother and I raced Jet 14′s “borrowed” from the sailing program at the University of Michigan in Ann Arbor.

    And yet I had never owned a sailboat of my own, it was 1996. I turned back to the yard. What I saw mostly were pregnant boats; major compromises between keeping their occupants comfortable and dry and their ability to sail well. These boats also give me the chills in a different sort of way.

    It was March with a cold rain falling, my then girlfriend, wanted to go home. Over to one side I spied a red boat with a flat, almost reverse sheer and spoon bow. It looked racy. As I got closer my eyes feasted on more and more of her attributes. Foredeck, open cockpit, wide gunwales, reverse transom………………………hummmmmm, I thought. Looked at all the other boats again and then back to the red boat………….several times………………… back to that red boat. My heart raced ……..maybe I could buy this boat. I was taken with the boats’ design and assumed that her performance would be just as keen.

    The next day; Monday, I made an offer that was eventually accepted by the owner. During the course of the purchase negotiations, which lasted a few days; the boat was on consignment and the owner was out of town, I realized that I didn’t have a clue where to sail the boat in Indianapolis. There was no water to speak of around Indianapolis; I was used to sailing on Lake Huron in Michigan. I soon discovered that I had two choices a keelboat club on the West side of town and the dinghy club on the East side of town, I chose the dinghy club.

    When I picked up the boat I asked them what all the stuff was. Especially, what was that hole in the foredeck? “Oh, thats where the spinnaker goes………….I think” he said. Spinnaker? The boat has a spinnaker?.. “Yeah, it’s here in this bag………………doesn’t look like it was ever used”. Now, how many times have you heard that.

    I took the boat directly over to another yard where they Epoxied the deck and hull back together on the port side and did some other minor repairs. Before I picked up the boat I actually paid the yard owner to help me set up the boat and explain to me what all the lines were, certainly there was too much stuff I thought. I was confused for some time how the heck the continuous spinnaker halyard was to be routed.

    Something had been bothering me ever since I first laid eyes on that red boat. The boat seemed familiar, but I couldn’t put a finger on it. Then POW; Oh yeah………………….Jimmy Hobiere a friend of mine who was a clay modeler for Chrysler in the early seventies. As an award for some great work that he had done Chrysler had given him a white sailboat and as the fog cleared from my mind I realized that the boat was a 1972 Buccaneer 18. Jimmy had asked me to help him with the maiden voyage because I had some sailing experience and he had none. The boat had no spinnaker and I distinctly remember that the roller furling jib mechanism was quite an abortion. Jimmy and I had spent 4 hours putting the boat together at the launching ramp. Lots of stuff came packed in separate boxes, it was like putting the kid’s toys together on Christmas Eve. By the time the boat was in the water the wind had died. Now where have you heard that before? Jimmy and I drifted and paddled around for two hours…………..”sailing”………. in his new boat.
    I never went “sailing” with Jimmy again and never saw a Buccaneer again until 24 years later when the red boat came into my life.

    She eventually was named “Crufone”. This was to be an acronym for the phrase… “Crew-of-one”. No one could ever figure it out. Most thought that I usually secured my crew over the telephone; thus, “Crufone”. I sold her to Eric Brennalt of Stuart, Florida who races her with the St. Lucie Sailing Club.

    That’s my story and I’m sticking to it.

    Michael Connolly