More Goldfish on Fridays
Thanks to Mal and Gary Larson.
Friday, October 26, 2007
Fish on Fridays
Today's Fish on Fridays is devoted to that fan favorite of the silver screen, the piscine superstar of the 26 Emmy Award winning television drama series, The West Wing.
Talking of Emmys, did I tell you that my not-quite-two-year-old granddaughter Emily thinks they are talking about her when they report "Emmy" news on the TV?
Where was I? Where am I? Oh yes. The West Wing.
Some of you may think that the star of The West Wing was Martin Sheen as the President of the USA, or perhaps one of the members of the White House staff such as Bradley Whitford who plays Josh Lyman, Rob Lowe as Sam Seaborn, or Richard Schiff as Toby Ziegler.
No, no, no! We true aficionados of the series know that the real star of The West Wing was Gail the Goldfish.
Josh means the crackers.
So in a touching, romantic scene Danny presents C.J., the object of his affections, with a goldfish in a bowl and launches Gail the Goldfish on her career of TV mega-stardom.
Gail became much much more than a prop on a set. In a series of private jokes between the West Wing production team and eagle eyed fans of the show, her bowl on C.J.'s desk frequently contained some object or other that alluded to the plot of each episode.
When war breaks out in Kashmir, Gail's bowl has some little toy soldiers and a Humvee. In an episode about a failed anti-missile-missile test, a missile apparently lands in Gail's bowl. And when the President and the First Lady plan to spend some steamy personal time together in the Presidential bedroom, Gail is seen with not only a pretty pink bed in her bowl, but also another goldfish. Yikes! Goldfish porn!
Gail even has her own fan website.
Beat that Joe Rouse.
Talking of Emmys, did I tell you that my not-quite-two-year-old granddaughter Emily thinks they are talking about her when they report "Emmy" news on the TV?
Here is a picture of our Emmy.
Here is an Emmy Award
Where was I? Where am I? Oh yes. The West Wing.
Some of you may think that the star of The West Wing was Martin Sheen as the President of the USA, or perhaps one of the members of the White House staff such as Bradley Whitford who plays Josh Lyman, Rob Lowe as Sam Seaborn, or Richard Schiff as Toby Ziegler.
No, no, no! We true aficionados of the series know that the real star of The West Wing was Gail the Goldfish.
Gail first appeared in The West Wing in an episode in which one of the White House reporters, Danny Concannon, has a crush on the White House press secretary, Claudia Jean (C.J.) Cregg. Josh tells Danny that C.J. likes goldfish.
Josh means the crackers.
Danny thinks that Josh means a real goldfish.
So in a touching, romantic scene Danny presents C.J., the object of his affections, with a goldfish in a bowl and launches Gail the Goldfish on her career of TV mega-stardom.
Gail became much much more than a prop on a set. In a series of private jokes between the West Wing production team and eagle eyed fans of the show, her bowl on C.J.'s desk frequently contained some object or other that alluded to the plot of each episode.
When war breaks out in Kashmir, Gail's bowl has some little toy soldiers and a Humvee. In an episode about a failed anti-missile-missile test, a missile apparently lands in Gail's bowl. And when the President and the First Lady plan to spend some steamy personal time together in the Presidential bedroom, Gail is seen with not only a pretty pink bed in her bowl, but also another goldfish. Yikes! Goldfish porn!
Gail even has her own fan website.
Beat that Joe Rouse.
Thursday, October 25, 2007
Old
In the past year I have...
I did all of the above without any major injuries and only minor aches and pains.
This morning I pulled something in my lower back while trying to put my socks on. Now I can't even bend over to tie my shoe-laces. I have been hobbling around all day like a refugee from the nursing home.
Is this what it is like to be old? Thank god I still have Tacticat.
- run a marathon
- moved house
- run a half marathon
- raced in the Caribbean Laser Midwinters
- raced in the Laser North Americans
- raced in the Laser Masters Worlds
- raced various other even windier regattas.
I did all of the above without any major injuries and only minor aches and pains.
This morning I pulled something in my lower back while trying to put my socks on. Now I can't even bend over to tie my shoe-laces. I have been hobbling around all day like a refugee from the nursing home.
Is this what it is like to be old? Thank god I still have Tacticat.
You can't post from Espana? Por que?
Andrew Campbell took a break from blogging for a week or so and used the time to qualify for the Olympics. Bonnie disappeared from the blogosphere for a while and has apparently been kayaking in my back yard. And when I signed off before heading to the Masters Worlds, Peconic Puffin asked, "You can't post from Espana? Por que?".
Why don't we post on our blogs when we are most active in our sports?
Are there practical difficulties? Perhaps Bonnie was camping out on some Rhode Island beach? Or in Andrew's case was it just that he needed to focus 100% on his performance in the Olympic Trials and blogging would have been a distraction?
I'm not sure why I don't make the effort to blog about my sailing every night when I'm competing in a major regatta. It might make more interesting reading than some of the drivel I write here. Then again it might not.
There are some practical issues. My current laptop is more of a desktop replacement than a true portable. And with all the other sailing gear I had to carry to Spain for the Worlds I didn't feel like lugging a heavy laptop too. But if I really wanted to, I could always buy a smaller computer to use for writing and blogging when I am traveling. Plenty of bloggers obviously do.
There is always the Internet cafe solution. Who needs a laptop? Find some establishment offering computers and Internet access at a price, and blog from there. Every harbor town in the Caribbean has those places. Cabarete had plenty. Actually I didn't see any in Roses but I expect they were there somewhere. Could do I suppose but it's not quite the same as blogging from your hotel bedroom with your feet up in your PJs after a hot shower.
Actually in Roses, there was some kind of wireless Internet access service set up in a tent near the regatta site. Many of the sailors rushed down there with their laptops every morning. Some of them, of course, were keeping in touch with the home office, running their businesses, or whatever, before setting out for an afternoon of yotting around the buoys.
It wasn't good enough for everyone. We met one sailor we knew on the second morning we were there. He was in the hotel lobby, checking out. He mournfully confessed that he had discovered that he suffered from Internet addiction and that he couldn't possibly spend another night in a hotel that didn't have wireless Internet access in the bedrooms. If he couldn't log in to check his email and other stuff every morning as soon as he woke up he couldn't survive. He was heading off to another hotel with the facilities he needed.
So the practical issues are solvable. I think there are basically three reasons I don't blog when I am away at a regatta.
1. I really don't want to deal with it. I want to concentrate on the regatta and having a good time socially in the evenings. I just don't want to be bothered with thinking of an interesting topic to blog about and composing a readable post. Oh sure, I could write one of those, "I went right, the fleet went left, left was right," kind of accounts of the day's racing. But I don't find that kind of writing very compelling and that's not been my style on this blog. But perhaps you really would like to read a blow-by-blow account of my mediocre racing performance each day?
2. I do like to be able to prove that I can survive for a couple of weeks without daily Internet access. Some times I feel like I might be an addict. From time to time I need to prove I'm not.
3. A regatta is a vacation from everyday life, even if I am retired. And not touching a computer while I am on vacation makes it seem like more of a break. Is that weird, or what?
Do you blog when you are traveling? Or take a break like me? Should I become a traveling blogger? Comments please.
Why don't we post on our blogs when we are most active in our sports?
Are there practical difficulties? Perhaps Bonnie was camping out on some Rhode Island beach? Or in Andrew's case was it just that he needed to focus 100% on his performance in the Olympic Trials and blogging would have been a distraction?
I'm not sure why I don't make the effort to blog about my sailing every night when I'm competing in a major regatta. It might make more interesting reading than some of the drivel I write here. Then again it might not.
There are some practical issues. My current laptop is more of a desktop replacement than a true portable. And with all the other sailing gear I had to carry to Spain for the Worlds I didn't feel like lugging a heavy laptop too. But if I really wanted to, I could always buy a smaller computer to use for writing and blogging when I am traveling. Plenty of bloggers obviously do.
There is always the Internet cafe solution. Who needs a laptop? Find some establishment offering computers and Internet access at a price, and blog from there. Every harbor town in the Caribbean has those places. Cabarete had plenty. Actually I didn't see any in Roses but I expect they were there somewhere. Could do I suppose but it's not quite the same as blogging from your hotel bedroom with your feet up in your PJs after a hot shower.
Actually in Roses, there was some kind of wireless Internet access service set up in a tent near the regatta site. Many of the sailors rushed down there with their laptops every morning. Some of them, of course, were keeping in touch with the home office, running their businesses, or whatever, before setting out for an afternoon of yotting around the buoys.
It wasn't good enough for everyone. We met one sailor we knew on the second morning we were there. He was in the hotel lobby, checking out. He mournfully confessed that he had discovered that he suffered from Internet addiction and that he couldn't possibly spend another night in a hotel that didn't have wireless Internet access in the bedrooms. If he couldn't log in to check his email and other stuff every morning as soon as he woke up he couldn't survive. He was heading off to another hotel with the facilities he needed.
So the practical issues are solvable. I think there are basically three reasons I don't blog when I am away at a regatta.
1. I really don't want to deal with it. I want to concentrate on the regatta and having a good time socially in the evenings. I just don't want to be bothered with thinking of an interesting topic to blog about and composing a readable post. Oh sure, I could write one of those, "I went right, the fleet went left, left was right," kind of accounts of the day's racing. But I don't find that kind of writing very compelling and that's not been my style on this blog. But perhaps you really would like to read a blow-by-blow account of my mediocre racing performance each day?
2. I do like to be able to prove that I can survive for a couple of weeks without daily Internet access. Some times I feel like I might be an addict. From time to time I need to prove I'm not.
3. A regatta is a vacation from everyday life, even if I am retired. And not touching a computer while I am on vacation makes it seem like more of a break. Is that weird, or what?
Do you blog when you are traveling? Or take a break like me? Should I become a traveling blogger? Comments please.
Wednesday, October 24, 2007
Save Greenland - Eat the Kangaroos
Mmmm. Yummy. Nice plate full of kangaroo meat.
It's the answer to global warming you know.
While scientists in the northern hemisphere worry about the melting of the Greenland ice sheet and the subsequent effect on sea levels worldwide, Greenpeace are asking Australians to help solve the problem by eating all their kangaroos.
Apparently kangaroos are a major contributor to global warming because just like cattle and sheep they are extremely flatulent. There are 25 million of them belching and breaking wind across the vast expanse of Australia's Outback. The methane gas that kangaroos produce rises into the atmosphere where it traps heat, increasing the Earth's temperature. And worse, their wide-ranging travels require a constant clearing of trees and shrubs that can absorb such greenhouse gases.
According to an article on courant.com, a recent Greenpeace report contends that lopping beef from the Aussie diet and replacing it with kangaroo would cut Australia's carbon emissions some 15 million metric tons a year.
So there you have it.
Toss another Joey on the barbie, mate.
Update: Thanks to that prolific commenter Anonymous for pointing out that I (and the courant.com article that I summarized) have got this story totally wrong. The point about kangaroos is that they have a digestive system which produces no methane, whereas cattle and sheep produce huge amounts. And that is why Aussies are being advised to increase kangaroo consumption and cut back on eating cattle and sheep. A more accurate report on this whole business can be found at the BBC: Kangaroos offer clue to global warming. Sorry for the confusion.
Big Fleets and Small Fleets
So here it is. Number One in Walker's Words of Wisdom on Wednesdays as translated, interpreted and otherwise confused by Tillerman...
One of the early chapters in Stuart Walker's book Positioning: The Logic of Sailboat Racing is Big Fleets and Small Fleets in which he discusses the difference in approach that a racing sailor should take when racing in large and small fleets. It's not something I think about consciously very much when racing in different fleets so let's see what he says...
But before summarizing his advice let's understand what Walker sees as inherently different about these two race situations...
Walker's main advice is that in big fleets you should be conservative and in small fleets be daring. Why is that I wonder and what are the implications for strategy around the course?
Take the start for example. In a big fleet, getting clear air is what matters. The ends of the line will be crowded and carry all kinds of risks. So make a conservative start away from the crowds, away from the ends, find some clear air and sail fast.
On the other hand in a small fleet, clear air means little because most boats will have clear air. So start at the end near the advantaged side of the course and avoid getting blocked by the opposition from getting there first.
Similar argument for the beat. Walker argues that in big fleets rarely is one side of the course obviously advantaged, nor is the wind oscillating so you can play the shifts. (I guess he is assuming here that a big fleet will be racing in open water away from any effects of land or variable currents that would create those conditions.) So he says that in big fleets, you should "play the fleet". This means you should avoid the laylines, keep inside and to windward on the tack away from the rhumb line, ahead and to leeward on the tack back, dig back in towards the rhumb line when you have an opportunity. (There's at least one chapter in this book about why all these moves make sense.)
Whereas in small fleets on a short course often one side is advantaged (assuming you are near the shore I suppose) so get over there first.
On the reaches he says that in a big fleet you should avoid luffing matches and work for clear air, to leeward if necessary. Whereas in small fleets you need to go as high as necessary to protect a lead from an attacker; that one point may win the regatta.
In other words, in a big fleet go for a "good" finish. Consistency usually wins the regatta. In a small fleet go for the win every race.
Walker has another interesting point about the difference between small and big fleets. In a big fleet someone will "have it right" and be sailing fast. In a small fleet everyone may be slow and nobody even knows it. So if you want to improve your boat speed you need to race in big fleets.
So what do you think? Does that make sense? Is that how you race in big and small fleets? Any other tips for how too handle the different scenarios?
One of the early chapters in Stuart Walker's book Positioning: The Logic of Sailboat Racing is Big Fleets and Small Fleets in which he discusses the difference in approach that a racing sailor should take when racing in large and small fleets. It's not something I think about consciously very much when racing in different fleets so let's see what he says...
But before summarizing his advice let's understand what Walker sees as inherently different about these two race situations...
- Small fleet racing often takes place near the shore, or in rivers or bays with strong currents.
- In small fleets, typically club racing, there are usually only a few races. In a large fleet, a major regatta perhaps, there will be many races.
- In a small fleet, one place one point may determine the outcome of the regatta. In a large fleet one point means very little.
Walker's main advice is that in big fleets you should be conservative and in small fleets be daring. Why is that I wonder and what are the implications for strategy around the course?
Take the start for example. In a big fleet, getting clear air is what matters. The ends of the line will be crowded and carry all kinds of risks. So make a conservative start away from the crowds, away from the ends, find some clear air and sail fast.
On the other hand in a small fleet, clear air means little because most boats will have clear air. So start at the end near the advantaged side of the course and avoid getting blocked by the opposition from getting there first.
Similar argument for the beat. Walker argues that in big fleets rarely is one side of the course obviously advantaged, nor is the wind oscillating so you can play the shifts. (I guess he is assuming here that a big fleet will be racing in open water away from any effects of land or variable currents that would create those conditions.) So he says that in big fleets, you should "play the fleet". This means you should avoid the laylines, keep inside and to windward on the tack away from the rhumb line, ahead and to leeward on the tack back, dig back in towards the rhumb line when you have an opportunity. (There's at least one chapter in this book about why all these moves make sense.)
Whereas in small fleets on a short course often one side is advantaged (assuming you are near the shore I suppose) so get over there first.
On the reaches he says that in a big fleet you should avoid luffing matches and work for clear air, to leeward if necessary. Whereas in small fleets you need to go as high as necessary to protect a lead from an attacker; that one point may win the regatta.
In other words, in a big fleet go for a "good" finish. Consistency usually wins the regatta. In a small fleet go for the win every race.
Walker has another interesting point about the difference between small and big fleets. In a big fleet someone will "have it right" and be sailing fast. In a small fleet everyone may be slow and nobody even knows it. So if you want to improve your boat speed you need to race in big fleets.
So what do you think? Does that make sense? Is that how you race in big and small fleets? Any other tips for how too handle the different scenarios?
Tuesday, October 23, 2007
The Doctor
Stuart Walker is a brilliant sailor. Soling World Champion. First American to win the International 14's Prince of Wales trophy. He is also a prolific sailing author. I own many of his books.
I have read these books. Cover to cover. Several times. However, I have remembered very little of what I have read.
They are not an easy read. Dr Walker is a brilliant sailor but his writing style is often...how shall I say it kindly... turgid. He uses words, like turgid, that most of us don't used in everyday speech. He sometimes writes long sentences. He uses long words and technical language that he assumes we all know. You have to work quite hard to extract the essential message from every paragraph.
Don't get me wrong. There's a lot of good stuff in his books. I dare say that if I could absorb everything he is trying to tell me I would be a far better sailor.
So I'm going to try an experiment. I'm going to translate a chapter from one of Dr Walker's books into a blog post. Paraphrase it into more simple language so that I can understand the basic message... and maybe remember it. Perhaps others may read the post and learn something too.
In fact I think I'm going to do this exercise about once a week. It will be a series. Let's see... Andrew Campbell already has Monday Morning Tactician. Joe Rouse has the much-imitated Fish on Fridays. So my new series will be Walker's Words of Wisdom on Wednesdays.
First instalment tomorrow on Big Fleets and Small Fleets.
I have read these books. Cover to cover. Several times. However, I have remembered very little of what I have read.
They are not an easy read. Dr Walker is a brilliant sailor but his writing style is often...how shall I say it kindly... turgid. He uses words, like turgid, that most of us don't used in everyday speech. He sometimes writes long sentences. He uses long words and technical language that he assumes we all know. You have to work quite hard to extract the essential message from every paragraph.
Don't get me wrong. There's a lot of good stuff in his books. I dare say that if I could absorb everything he is trying to tell me I would be a far better sailor.
So I'm going to try an experiment. I'm going to translate a chapter from one of Dr Walker's books into a blog post. Paraphrase it into more simple language so that I can understand the basic message... and maybe remember it. Perhaps others may read the post and learn something too.
In fact I think I'm going to do this exercise about once a week. It will be a series. Let's see... Andrew Campbell already has Monday Morning Tactician. Joe Rouse has the much-imitated Fish on Fridays. So my new series will be Walker's Words of Wisdom on Wednesdays.
First instalment tomorrow on Big Fleets and Small Fleets.
Sailing's Greatest Unsolved Mysteries
Forget the Mary Celeste and Baron de Rosnay. There are any number of plausible explanations for those nautical mysteries.
There are greater unsolved sailing mysteries for which science has no explanation whatsoever. I wrote about one yesterday. How can an inanimate piece of line like a Laser mainsheet tie itself into knots with no human intervention?
Logical Litoralis rose to the challenge and wrote a post on his blog on the Science of Knots. Sorry kiddo I'm not convinced.
Apparently a couple of scientists from the University of California (where else?) spent many months and oodles of grant dollars dropping pieces of string into boxes and shaking them around. Surprise, surprise, the string got tangled! I know that. The mystery is how this happens, not whether it does.
One of these two scientific geniuses from la-la-land apparently built a computer program to simulate string bouncing around inside a box and once again, shock, horror, the virtual string tied itself in virtual knots. So what? There is a computer program called Tacticat in which I have proven conclusively that if I make a squirrel start and bang the right hand corner I will win 42.3% of all sailing races. Somehow my percentage in the real world is somewhat lower.
You can tell how far this programmer dude is divorced from reality by this quote from him in a Live Science article. “It is virtually impossible to distinguish different knots just by looking at them.” I rest my case.
Here are two more huge unsolved sailing mysteries that have stumped the world's smartest scientists...
The cotter rings are used to secure clevis pins. One end of the ring is inserted in the pin hole and then the ring is rotated until the other end of the ring is through the hole.
It should be secure. But it ain't.
For example, the ring in the pin securing the deck block for the outhaul line on my Laser, somehow managed to unwind itself and magically disappear while the boat was sitting on its trailer in my garage for two weeks while I was in Spain. Science would say that this is physically impossible. But it happened.
Then there is the Great Gatorade Bottle Mystery
Yesterday before going sailing I put a bottle of Gatorade in my sailing bag, zipped it up and placed the bag in my car. It was never out of my sight. But when I reached the launch area the bottle of Gatorade had disappeared. After a (thirsty) afternoon's sailing I drove home and discovered that the bottle of Gatorade had teleported itself out of the bag and out of the car, projected itself across several miles of open water, and landed right side up on the kitchen counter at my house.
Explain that you Californian scientists, I challenge you.
There are greater unsolved sailing mysteries for which science has no explanation whatsoever. I wrote about one yesterday. How can an inanimate piece of line like a Laser mainsheet tie itself into knots with no human intervention?
Logical Litoralis rose to the challenge and wrote a post on his blog on the Science of Knots. Sorry kiddo I'm not convinced.
Apparently a couple of scientists from the University of California (where else?) spent many months and oodles of grant dollars dropping pieces of string into boxes and shaking them around. Surprise, surprise, the string got tangled! I know that. The mystery is how this happens, not whether it does.
One of these two scientific geniuses from la-la-land apparently built a computer program to simulate string bouncing around inside a box and once again, shock, horror, the virtual string tied itself in virtual knots. So what? There is a computer program called Tacticat in which I have proven conclusively that if I make a squirrel start and bang the right hand corner I will win 42.3% of all sailing races. Somehow my percentage in the real world is somewhat lower.
You can tell how far this programmer dude is divorced from reality by this quote from him in a Live Science article. “It is virtually impossible to distinguish different knots just by looking at them.” I rest my case.
Here are two more huge unsolved sailing mysteries that have stumped the world's smartest scientists...
The Great Clevis Pin and Cotter Ring Mystery
This is a clevis pin
These are cotter rings
The cotter rings are used to secure clevis pins. One end of the ring is inserted in the pin hole and then the ring is rotated until the other end of the ring is through the hole.
It should be secure. But it ain't.
For example, the ring in the pin securing the deck block for the outhaul line on my Laser, somehow managed to unwind itself and magically disappear while the boat was sitting on its trailer in my garage for two weeks while I was in Spain. Science would say that this is physically impossible. But it happened.
Then there is the Great Gatorade Bottle Mystery
This is a bottle of Gatorade
Yesterday before going sailing I put a bottle of Gatorade in my sailing bag, zipped it up and placed the bag in my car. It was never out of my sight. But when I reached the launch area the bottle of Gatorade had disappeared. After a (thirsty) afternoon's sailing I drove home and discovered that the bottle of Gatorade had teleported itself out of the bag and out of the car, projected itself across several miles of open water, and landed right side up on the kitchen counter at my house.
Explain that you Californian scientists, I challenge you.
Monday, October 22, 2007
Why Practice?
Why practice? Practice sailing. Or any other skill for that matter?
That's a stupid question. You practice to improve your skills.
Really? Is it as simple as that? I can think of at least seven different reasons to practice. And surely if you know the reason you are practicing on any given day it might make your practice more effective, don't you think?
1. To learn a new skill. You've never trapezed before. You want to learn. You may need a coach to explain the key aspects of the new skill and the things to avoid.
2. To unlearn an old habit that's wrong. You've always tacked a Laser facing backwards and you only just realized after twenty years that you should face forwards? It's hard to break old habits. You're probably going to get slower before you get faster.
3. To refine an existing skill. Your gybes are pretty good but not perfect. You need to smooth off the rough edges. Improve your timing. Concentrate on the key issue of speed coming out of the gybe.
4. To improve straight line boatspeed. It's magic, the more time you spend in the boat the faster you become. Persuade someone to tow your trailer from launch site to landing site and sail twenty miles downwind in waves. The magic will work for you.
5. To discover what you're doing wrong. You're always getting your feet tangled in the sheet when sailing your Laser upwind. Well, go out and sail upwind and concentrate on what your feet are doing. Are you looping your feet under the pile of sheet in the cockpit when you tack? Are you lazy about keeping the sheet tidy? You'll never find the time to discover all this during a race.
6. To work on your sailing fitness. You could run. You could bike. You could lift weights. You could watch TV while working out on your hiking bench. But nothing will improve your sailing fitness like a couple of hours on the water.
7. For fun. Hey, you do this sailing stuff because you enjoy it, right? So if you have a few free hours what could be more fun than to take your Laser down to the water and go for a blast? Hey, you might even learn something.
I went out for a practice on the bay this afternoon. Beautiful late fall day. Sunny, warm, few wisps of cloud. Around 10-12 knots with waves just big enough to surf.
Did a bit of #4 and some #5 and certainly #6. But mainly #7. Magic!
Why do you practice?
That's a stupid question. You practice to improve your skills.
Really? Is it as simple as that? I can think of at least seven different reasons to practice. And surely if you know the reason you are practicing on any given day it might make your practice more effective, don't you think?
1. To learn a new skill. You've never trapezed before. You want to learn. You may need a coach to explain the key aspects of the new skill and the things to avoid.
2. To unlearn an old habit that's wrong. You've always tacked a Laser facing backwards and you only just realized after twenty years that you should face forwards? It's hard to break old habits. You're probably going to get slower before you get faster.
3. To refine an existing skill. Your gybes are pretty good but not perfect. You need to smooth off the rough edges. Improve your timing. Concentrate on the key issue of speed coming out of the gybe.
4. To improve straight line boatspeed. It's magic, the more time you spend in the boat the faster you become. Persuade someone to tow your trailer from launch site to landing site and sail twenty miles downwind in waves. The magic will work for you.
5. To discover what you're doing wrong. You're always getting your feet tangled in the sheet when sailing your Laser upwind. Well, go out and sail upwind and concentrate on what your feet are doing. Are you looping your feet under the pile of sheet in the cockpit when you tack? Are you lazy about keeping the sheet tidy? You'll never find the time to discover all this during a race.
6. To work on your sailing fitness. You could run. You could bike. You could lift weights. You could watch TV while working out on your hiking bench. But nothing will improve your sailing fitness like a couple of hours on the water.
7. For fun. Hey, you do this sailing stuff because you enjoy it, right? So if you have a few free hours what could be more fun than to take your Laser down to the water and go for a blast? Hey, you might even learn something.
I went out for a practice on the bay this afternoon. Beautiful late fall day. Sunny, warm, few wisps of cloud. Around 10-12 knots with waves just big enough to surf.
Did a bit of #4 and some #5 and certainly #6. But mainly #7. Magic!
Why do you practice?
Sunday, October 21, 2007
I Can Tie Knots With My Feet
Tillerwoman and I were having dinner one evening in Spain with one of the other sailors at the Laser Masters Worlds and his wife. The other sailor started telling Tillerwoman this long story about how good he was at tying knots with his feet. As his wife (also a sailor) and I listened and smiled he kept my darling wife rapt with the tale of how he is able to tie knots in his mainsheet with his feet while sailing up the beat so that when he reaches the windward mark there are so many knots in the sheet that it won't go through the ratchet block and he is unable to bear away.
Of course he was kidding. There's no need to tie knots with your feet. The gazillion meters of Laser mainsheet, sloshing around in the bottom of the cockpit in all that water from every nth wave coming over the bow, is quite capable of tying knots in itself without any human intervention. How does it do that? I mean, when I used to teach little kids in sailing classes how to tie knots it took them ages to master the art of tying knots that wouldn't come undone when you pull both ends of the rope. But a Laser mainsheet, supposedly an inanimate object, has the skills to tie itself into knots that can take almost half of a downwind leg for a knotmaster like myself to undo. It's a mystery.
But wait. Every problem is just an opportunity for some marketing guy to pitch a product that will solve the problem. I think Steve Cockerill was the first to sell a "non-tangle" Laser mainsheet. We all bought one. Ha ha. What fools we were. OK, I guess the Rooster mainsheet has a lower knot-tying intelligence than the sheets we used to use before it came along. But it quickly learned to tie itself into knots just like its predecessors. Ho hum.
The latest in anti-tangle knot-free technology is the Bzzz mainsheet from New England Ropes. I think the guys at New England Ropes may have discovered a line with an even lower knot-tying IQ than the Rooster line. But it's still pretty smart and can occasionally manage a double underhand truckers triple hitch without any help from my feet.
There must be a solution. Isn't there some way to dump the sheet in the cockpit when you sheet in so that it won't get tangled? Some Laser sailors like to keep all the sheet at the front of the cockpit. Others are back-endians. It's as pointless a distinction as that between the big-endians and little-endians in Gulliver's Travels, whose major political issue was whether soft-boiled eggs should be opened on the big side or the little side. I've tried both. The sheet wins every time.
So what am I to do? Is there a solution to this problem? Or is it like other unsolvable mysteries such as which came first the chicken or the egg or how does Donald Trump's hair stay in place? I surely hope not.
Help please.
Of course he was kidding. There's no need to tie knots with your feet. The gazillion meters of Laser mainsheet, sloshing around in the bottom of the cockpit in all that water from every nth wave coming over the bow, is quite capable of tying knots in itself without any human intervention. How does it do that? I mean, when I used to teach little kids in sailing classes how to tie knots it took them ages to master the art of tying knots that wouldn't come undone when you pull both ends of the rope. But a Laser mainsheet, supposedly an inanimate object, has the skills to tie itself into knots that can take almost half of a downwind leg for a knotmaster like myself to undo. It's a mystery.
But wait. Every problem is just an opportunity for some marketing guy to pitch a product that will solve the problem. I think Steve Cockerill was the first to sell a "non-tangle" Laser mainsheet. We all bought one. Ha ha. What fools we were. OK, I guess the Rooster mainsheet has a lower knot-tying intelligence than the sheets we used to use before it came along. But it quickly learned to tie itself into knots just like its predecessors. Ho hum.
The latest in anti-tangle knot-free technology is the Bzzz mainsheet from New England Ropes. I think the guys at New England Ropes may have discovered a line with an even lower knot-tying IQ than the Rooster line. But it's still pretty smart and can occasionally manage a double underhand truckers triple hitch without any help from my feet.
There must be a solution. Isn't there some way to dump the sheet in the cockpit when you sheet in so that it won't get tangled? Some Laser sailors like to keep all the sheet at the front of the cockpit. Others are back-endians. It's as pointless a distinction as that between the big-endians and little-endians in Gulliver's Travels, whose major political issue was whether soft-boiled eggs should be opened on the big side or the little side. I've tried both. The sheet wins every time.
So what am I to do? Is there a solution to this problem? Or is it like other unsolvable mysteries such as which came first the chicken or the egg or how does Donald Trump's hair stay in place? I surely hope not.
Help please.
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