20 years of Miata

The Chicago Auto Show is featuring 20 years of Miatas. That 1999 edition was pretty hot. Of course, the 1990 model rules!

From a NYT feature on Ted Kennedy

Newlyweds Ted and Joan get ready to set sail at Hyannis Port.

Jack Frost

All you N.Y. Times readers have probably already seen this article. If not, Enjoy.

What they were thinking

Matt Feehan, 18, of Lexington (originally New Zealand), in the Charles River, June 22, 2007, on a Community Boating Laser sailboat:

“I was thinking how amazing the wind was. And I was ticked off about being sent in early [because of safety rules during thunderstorms]. I wanted to stay out there. It’s not often you get wind like that on the Charles River. I was trying to plane the Laser to go faster and I got carried away. It was so much fun. But I guess I was showing off a little too much and I went in once or twice. I know the song, ‘Love That Dirty Water,’ and I can tell you it’s pretty slimy and pretty dirty. But the water temperature was perfect.”

A New Day

Winter Sailing

it's all about having fun...

p.s. find the sunfishies in this video

Hot Rum Series: results

We lost to this guy. He has a pretty good sailing history. He came in 1st place out of 145 boats. We finished in 72nd place...the upper half! & 15th out of 35 in our class...still the upper half. It was fun.

Rum Caliente, Dos

Ross, Dave, Bill, Gene, Nita & Kirsten racing to the finish line.

Hot Sailing Action

The wind calmed down greatly for the Hot Rum II race, so much so that this time the course was shortened mid-way by the race committee so that everyone could get back to the docks & the bar before dark. We did well (we love light air) finishing in the top half of our group. Here we are rounding the mark, Kirsten on the bow and your's truly with the spinnaker sheet.

y swap

It's almost Thanksgiving and that can only mean one thing. Time to start preparing for the yankee swap. This year, to make things simpler, I propose that we do the actual swap using "skype". This way it can be more real-time. So, Dave, your assignment is to download and install skype (if you do not already have it), after which we can do a test call. For the rest of you, all you need to do is have your $25 gift wrapped and ready for the 25th. At either location. That's it for now. More later.

Now That's Sailing!

Picture the largest wave you've ever ridden. See it taking form behind you as you prepared to swim or paddle into it. Recall how if felt as it took hold of you and began to propel you through the water.

Well, that was nothing.

In the first of three Hot Rum races, Ross and I had just completed a five-mile leg that began inside San Diego Bay and ended well out into the Pacific. We were crewing for a guy named Eugene on his J105 (a 35-foot boat), called "Vamoose." Ross was trimming jib and I was trimming main. That first leg was predominantly a beam reach, but as we rounded the first mark, we turned onto a run, and so put the swell directly behind us. It was therefore much more noticeable than it had been.

The first wave to reach us was easily ten feet — perhaps more like twelve. Another boat rounded moments behind us and the wave lifted it first, so that although it was overlapped with us, it was for a moment four or five feet higher up than we were. We were basically looking at the underside of its hull. It was about half out of the water and then, a moment later, so were we — surfing. I should mention, by the way, that the wind was blowing a sustained 25 knots with gusts to 30.

Wheeeeeeeeeeeeee!!!!!

All the way out on that first leg, our minimum speed was eight knots, with bursts of acceleration up to nine and more — speeds rarely achieved in this particular class of boat. Everyone on board was just having a blast (there were three others in addition to Eugene, Ross, and me), so we were all a bit disappointed when, moments after rounding that first mark, the Race Committee broadcast that it was abandoning the race. Seems the conditions were so severe that the race marks wouldn't stay put, despite being held by anchors and chain. They drifted literally miles away.

In fact, that first mark that we rounded was not actually a race mark at all, but was instead a channel buoy that everyone seemed to have decided to round because the race mark was missing. That was an adventure in itself. As we approached it our tactician brought us closer to it that we meant to be — almost close enough to reach out and touch it. Just then we stalled (we had, perhaps, entered the lee of one of those large waves). We all held our breath, wondering whether we would roll right into the buoy, which would have been rather messy. Fortunately, we picked up speed and shot safely past the buoy.

One of the great days of sailing! The Hot Rums, I should mention, are a racing tradition in San Diego — three fun races that sort of extend the sailing season into the autumn because no one wants to see it end. They start in the bay, go out into the ocean, and finish back in the bay; it's not unusual to have a hundred boats, of all classes, competing. (Starting's always interesting, even in calm conditions.) Naturally, when you finish racing you go back to San Diego Yacht Club and drink rum, which his how the races get their name. So, two more Hot Rums to go — one next Sunday and the last two Sundays later. Perhaps we'll get an entire race in next time.


P.S. Emma Gets Her Fifteen Minutes

You may have heard some nonsense or other about a big earthquake drill that was staged recently out here. A local paper — the North County Times — dutifully provided coverage. It sent a photographer out to Mira Costa College to see if he couldn't get a shot that somehow encapsulated things. Sure enough, the front page of the issue for Friday, November 14 featured a picture of purposeful people striding briskly about in a parking lot while one person, apparently finding it all a bit silly, sat and read. That person was our Emma! I'm hoping to find an on-line copy of the photo, but for the moment have only one, paper-and-ink copy here at home.....

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Don't Tread on Emma

 

Perhaps you'll remember a little item in this blog from a while back, telling of the Aikido test in which Emma advanced from blue belt to brown. An achievement, certainly, but it left one more color (or is that the absence of all color?) for her to work toward.

Two weeks ago, she had her chance. By then, she had progressed to second kyu (mid-level brown) and was asked to test. The yudansha (black belts) acknowledged in advance that she might do so well as to join their ranks, but that would require her to move up two levels — by no means a certain thing. If she didn't have sufficient ki (or "schwartz," as Mel Brooks might say), she could always be promoted to first kyu (highest-level brown), and no shame in that.

The day arrived — the Friday of a week in which she had already endured four midterm exams. Talk about stress! That afternoon she and I cleared the furniture out of the living room and practiced all manner of attack and defense, just to warm her up.

And, finally, the test itself. She was great! I know that the fellow flying through the air in the photograph would agree.

If you remember that earlier blog entry, you'll remember it said that the yudansha sit in a line in a corner of the dojo, the better to judge everything the test-taker does. So, an added wrinkle: As a fairly new recipient of a black belt, I was one of them, sitting in judgment on Emma. It's possible I was more nervous than she was. When she had done all she would do, the yudansha had gathered to confer, and it came my term to comment, I began by saying, "I might be a little biased...." And it was quickly decided that that was all I would be allowed to say; I was given a pass.

The others, however, loved her performance, and so she is now Sho Dan — first-level black belt!

Law and Order, SVU

Did anyone see last week's episode? Elliot's mother lived on "Long Beach Island".

More brushes with fame

Today I took Cher to Gloucester, where I was photographed for a tourism brochure, sailing in a picture perfect postcard of autumn in New England. Perhaps someday I will see it and be able to share it with you. For now, this photo of They That Go Down to the Sea in Ships will have to do.

The whole story: Rosemary wanted to go up and see her (liberal cool) cousin Teri who lives in Gloucester and Teri agreed to show us where I could put my boat in while they took the dog for a walk on the beach. So she took me to Annisquam where there was an inlet not much wider than the lagoon we all love to navigate. So off i went, downwind where I noticed a man on the shore taking numerous photos of me. I hope he got my Red Sox knit cap in the photo (wait till next year!).

Before long I came upon a footbridge spanning the inlet with no way to get through. The photographer had made his way to the bridge and was still snapping away. Rosemary and Teri appeared on the bridge also, apologizing for the error. This is when they found out why the guy was taking photos. So I tacked back to where I had put in, against a mighty tidal current, which was tricky. Teri had this to say: "Sorry, but I'm not a sailor so I didn't know!"

Next she took me to various ocean beaches. No, that won't work either, waves crashing against rocks ala the Maine coast... I explained I needed something a little more protected than that.

The lightbulb went off and she took me to a road that dead ended on a tiny beach right on Gloucester Harbor. Perfect!!

Nobody sails there anymore.

It's too crowded.

Post-Debate

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A Sad Day in Sailing

Better Late Than Never