And so the last day of March brings Strange Blogging Month to an end.
"In like a lion, out like a lamb," they say about March, whoever "they" are. I have no idea what that saying means. Or if it has any relevance at all to the topic of this post. But it seemed like a strange thing to say, so I said it.
It's been a learning experience, trying to achieve the goal of writing a post every day on the theme of STRANGE. At times it has seemed artificial, and I have had to stretch and strain to twist a subject around a bit to fit it into the theme. But stretching and straining is good. It's what we do at the gym, after all. (Not that I go the gym.) And I think it's been good exercise to stretch my writing muscles into performing some different, and sometimes difficult, contortions.
Some of you would probably say that this blog has always been pretty strange. There's some truth in that. I do like to point out the absurdities and quirkiness of our sport of sailing (and other matters). I've always said I don't want to write about sailing races in that "I went right, the wind went left, right was wrong" style that is all so prevalent in typical race reports. So this month we've had posts about such varied topics as the role of professionals in racing, the last gasp from the 33rd America's Cup (I hope), the earth's magnetic field, boat names, standing up in sailing dinghies and the evolutionary origins of human altruism and how that affects sailboat racing.
I hope you enjoyed the long, strange trip.
Normal service will be resumed as soon as possible.
I write a lot of utter nonsense on this blog. Occasionally I enjoy a good rant. Sometimes I argue one side of a case just for the fun of it; I could just as easily have argued the other side. My Dad was the same; he loved a good argument. One of my sons has the same trait. Of the three of us, my son is the only one to choose a profession where this talent may actually be useful; he's a lawyer.
So I don't really expect anyone to agree with what I write here. Which is why it was strange to open the April 2010 issue of Sailing World and discover that Jonathan McKee agrees with me. On three issues, no less! Very strange!
McKee has a column in Sailing World titled McKee's Minute. He says that, in some ways, sailing is inherently a very "green" activity, but that we also have an obligation to do what we can to reduce the environmental impact of our sport. He then makes six suggestions of how to achieve this. Three of them caught my eye because I have discussed them before on this blog in some of my random rants.
- Leave the coach boat at home. Better yet, sell it.
Yikes! I never thought I would hear that from one of the top racing sailors. Isn't this exactly what I was saying last year in Ban Mommy Boats NOW and a couple of years before in Mommy Boats?
- Cut down on unnecessary packaging in your lunch.
I guess I wasn't really focusing on the packaging issue when I wrote Uncrustables!, but it's another good reason not to serve such a processed vile-tasting creation for a regatta lunch.
- Maximize your local sailing. Racing closer to home involves less driving and it's cheaper. When you do travel consider chartering.
This is an issue that's been troubling me for some time. I covered it in $20 Gas and the Future of Sailing, An Inconvenient Truth and Anal-Retentive People Like Numbers. But it's shocking to hear that someone of McKee's stature is giving similar advice.
So Jonathan McKee agrees with me. This is troubling. I thought I was a maverick. I thought I was writing provocative stuff to stir up some controversy and argument. Now I find that one of the most accomplished racing sailors in the world agrees with me.
This is very strange.
I don't know what to do about it...
On Saturday I ran in the 15k Run the Reservoir Race in N. Scituate, Rhode Island. All in all it was a good experience. But in some respects it was bad. And in one respect it was downright ugly.
Good: It was a very cool morning, low 30's Fahrenheit, perfect conditions for running.
Bad: After registering in the church hall, I was hanging out with some other old geezer runners, and I noticed one of them was messing about with an old running sock. I asked him what he was doing and he explained he planned to stuff it down the front of his pants to give his... umm... more sensitive parts... some protection from the cold. Sorry I asked. Couldn't get the image of that sock out of mind. Some runners are a little strange, I think.
Good: Hanging out with other runners just before the start, one very friendly guy started chatting to me. He had run the race before, so I was able to ask him about what to expect.
Bad: The very friendly guy kept telling me that the course was uphill all the way round! Ridiculous! How could that be, when we start and finish at the same point?
Good: Set off at a nice relaxed pace. Around 11 minutes a mile I guessed. A bit faster than my long training runs but still comfortable. The first half of the race was mainly along a forest road that isn't normally open to the public. There were spectacular views through the trees of Scituate Reservoir, the largest body of fresh water in Rhode Island.
Bad: No sailing, no boating of any kind in fact, is allowed on the pristine waters of the reservoir. I felt like stopping for a pee in the watershed just to make a protest. But I didn't.
Good: As we passed the first few mile markers I discovered I was going a little faster than my target pace of 11 minutes a mile...
Bad: ... until we reached the first big hill.
Good: We exited the forest trail and ran on a road on a causeway across the reservoir. Gorgeous views of water to north and south. What a wonderful lake this would be for sailing. I was feeling terrific...
Bad: ... until we reached an even bigger hill. I walked up this one.
Good: While walking up the hill I consumed one of my magic go-faster energy gels. I reached the 5 mile mark in 55 minutes, bang on target pace. I could see a group of a dozen runners about 150 yards ahead of me so I set myself a goal to catch up and pass them over the rest of the race. I was feeling so strong that I was able to accelerate a bit and slowly started reeling in the group ahead. Without pushing myself, I passed a few of them, a couple of teenage boys... two guys about my age, a lady stopping to retie her shoe laces... and then I saw that the next six runners in front of me were all women, separated from each other by several yards. Slowly but surely I started passing them one by one. When I reached the 7 mile mark, I discovered that I had run the last two miles at a 10 minute a mile pace. Woo hoo!
Bad: Then I realized that the friendly guy at the start had not been joking. It was uphill all the way. At least this section was. Or it felt like it. My legs started to feel rubbery, my breathing became labored, and I slowed down considerably. Slowly but surely the women I had overtaken started passing me again.
Good: We finally reached the road back to N. Scituate village. I knew where we were. Turn left at those traffic lights up there and it's a short distance to the finish. Yeah, baby!
Bad: When we reached the traffic lights, the police waved for us to go straight on. Apparently there was a detour around a few extra blocks to make the distance up to 15k.
Good: A tall attractive woman about 20 years younger than me caught up with me and started a conversation.
Bad: But she wanted to discuss the politics of health insurance. She had a theory that runners should have reduced premiums and smokers shouldn't be allowed to have insurance at all. Then she ran off ahead of me, loudly shouted out her name, and followed with, "If I ever run for office, vote for me!" Strange!
Good: I saw the finish. I crossed the finish line. The tall lady with the strong opinions about health insurance congratulated me on a good race, and I returned the compliment. I looked back to the finish line. I wasn't last. There was still a whole bunch of runners behind me, including some guy in a Boston Marathon shirt. I grabbed some water and fruit. Inside the church hall there was hot soup. Yummm. It was a good day. I went home and soaked in the tub, and relaxed for the rest of the day.
Ugly: On Sunday, I was still so tired from the run -- totally "knackered" as we Brits say -- that I didn't have the energy to go Laser sailing. Not only am I slower than I was when I was younger, it takes me a lot longer to recover from a hard run. Very ugly.
The older I get, the faster I was.
What a strange weekend.
Last night I went to a talk at the Herreshoff Marine Museum in Bristol by Nick Hayes the author of the book Saving Sailing. His ideas about creating opportunities for families to sail together as the primary solution for reversing sailing's decline generated a lot of interest and discussion, as I expected they would.
Speaking personally, his talk crystallized for me what had been troubling me since I first read and reviewed Nick's book. While I can understand and accept his analysis and recommendations at an intellectual level, his ideas don't resonate with me emotionally. I don't feel them in my gut like he clearly does.
It's partly because Nick and I have such vastly different sailing experiences. We have sailed different kinds of boats, with different sorts of people, in very different places, for different reasons. Or maybe I'm just strange...
An example. At one point Nick put up a slide that was supposed to explain why different age groups sail, why they enjoy sailing. For my age group, the boomers, the old geezers, he said the prime reason was "Nostalgia". He told tales about guys who spoke passionately of how sailing reminded them of experiences they had shared with their fathers (not necessarily sailing... it could be fishing with Dad) or with mentors who were important to them earlier in their sailing lives. I felt no connection with this idea. Nostalgia? That's not remotely anything to do with why I sail.
Then he put up a graphic that showed the main reason why young people sail (kids under 17, I think.) The keyword here was "Fun".
Yes, yes, yes. Fun, fun, fun. That's why I sail. I wouldn't do it if it weren't Fun. That's what keeps me in sailing.
So what's wrong with me? At an age when my peers are apparently into Nostalgia, I'm into Fun. Am I still a kid at heart? Didn't I ever grow up? Am I strange?
It reminded me of a conversation I had had earlier in the day with my 4-year-old granddaughter as we played together on her swing-set in the sunshine.
I never want to grow up Grandad.
Why Emily?
I told Daddy last night, I always want to be his little girl.
Well you always will be his little girl, Emily. Even when you grow up and get married, Daddy will still think of you as his little girl.
But Grandad, that doesn't make sense. I have to grow up. I can't always be a little girl.
Well Emily, actually you don't have to grow up. You have to grow older, but you don't have to grow up. Look at me, I never grew up.
You're silly Grandad.
Yes Emily, I am silly. That's what I mean. I'm silly. I never grew up.
(Puzzled silence.... )
Am I strange?
I have never been any good at anything involving balance on one or two legs. I can ski and skate now, but when I was learning it was a real struggle for me to move past the "falling over every few seconds" stage. On my recent vacation in the BVI I went to a yoga class on the beach early one morning. I did OK except when it came to those poses involving balancing on one leg... there was much falling over and embarrassment and apologies to the instructor. Very strange.
Some people like to stand up while they are sailing little boats like Lasers or Sunfish. Bonnie and a friend were doing it in Sunfish this weekend and you can see pictures of them doing it at the strangely titled i can has banana? or at least onion, sage, rosemary & thyme.
Although it looks strange, it's actually not too hard to stand up in the cockpit of a Sunfish sailing downwind in lightish winds. One of my friends in New Jersey used to teach kids to sail Sunfish by standing on the transom of the boat. That's a bit harder; I forgot how he managed to avoid being swept overboard by the boom every time his students tacked. And my post from last year Eleven Crazy Things You Can Do on a Laser had some other strange tricks you can do while standing up on a Laser. Well, maybe you can do them. I can't do most of them. As I said, I have terrible balance.
Sailing coaches will sometimes make their Laser classes sail standing up. Gary Bodie had us all sailing the Laser standing up in front of the mast in very light airs on Cayuga Lake at a clinic there in 1995. And both times I went to Sailfit Laser clinics with Kurt Taulbee in Florida he had a drill where we had to sail standing up. And not just in light airs or just downwind. He wanted us to sail closehauled in a fresh breeze standing on the side deck. Never did master that one. Much falling over and embarrassment and apologies to the instructor again. Very strange.
Why do coaches make you sail a dinghy standing up? Does it actually improve your feel for the boat in the more conventional sitting down position? Does it make you more aware of heel or how to react to puffs? Or is it a good way to amuse (or torture) the class when the winds are too light to do much else?
A friend whose sailing skills I admire even showed off by sailing out to the race course one day on Buzzards Bay while standing on one leg on his Laser. I bet he goes to yoga classes.
But what earthly use is it to have this strange skill of being able to sail a Laser or Sunfish standing up? Sam Chapin did actually come up with one answer to this question in his post LASER SAIL IN LIGHT AIR yesterday. He had this tip...
Sail to the pressure. Get some good polarized sun glasses that help you see the ripples on the water. Stand up now and then for a look around. Practice standing up and still sailing fast with control of the boat.
Good point. I have been known to stand up before the start of a race to check out the wind, but have never tried to stand up and "sail fast with control of the boat" during a race before. I would probably fall over.
Maybe there's something in this? Maybe I should learn to sail standing up? Maybe I should practice some of those yoga poses on dry land first to improve my balance skills?
So, if you are out on Narragansett Bay this summer and you see some old geezer sailing his Laser while awkwardly trying to assume the Natarajasana pose, it will probably be me.
Am I strange?
Sailors think they understand the wind, but they don't.
You can't see wind. All you can see is the effect on other things. You look at the ripples on the water, your sail, flags, smoke, etc. etc. and you think you understand what the wind is doing, but you don't.
I discovered this strange fact this weekend. My grandchildren came to our house for the weekend so I skipped sailing on Sunday and played with them. And that's when it dawned on me that I had been totally wrong about wind all the time I had been sailing.
Sailors will say things like, "The wind is 10-12 knots from a direction of 135 degrees." There are several assumptions in a statement like that. It implies that there is such a thing as an average wind range and that it is relatively constant in direction. There is a more subtle implication that the wind can be imagined as a horizontal two-dimensional vector.
That's how we think of it when we are sailing. Sure we know that the wind might vary in direction and speed over time, and at various places around the race course. And we might also know that if we sail a boat with a very tall mast that the wind speed may well be stronger and from a slightly different direction higher up. But we generally think that at any given time and place it has a certain direction and speed, that can be described in a sentence like the one above.
We are wrong.
I learned this while playing with my 4-year-old granddaughter last weekend. One of her favorite things right now is blowing bubbles. I was assigned the job of catching as many bubbles as I could.
When you watch soap bubbles floating in the air you quickly realize that sailors' assumptions about the wind are all wrong. There is no meaningful consistent wind direction. It changes every second. It changes in a few inches. There are vertical, upwards and downwards, components to the wind. Even bubbles that start at the same place within a fraction of a second of each other will be swirled by the wind at different speeds and different directions and to different heights.
Wind is millions and millions of air molecules jiggling and tumbling around and bouncing off each other and into objects like sails and balloons and this molecule here doesn't really care what that molecule three feet away was doing two seconds ago, and certainly doesn't feel much compunction to behave in the same way as it. Wind is quite a random phenomenon.
I don't think I will ever see wind the same way again. On SailX it is a two dimensional vector at any given point and time. In the real world... not so much. It changes from inch to inch and from second to second.
How strange!
If I think like this when I am sailing it could drive me nuts.
Other bloggers have blogged on their blogs about boat names. Some are cute. Some are puzzling. Some are puns. Some are just plain weird.
Much could be said of the names chosen by players for themselves (or is it their boats) in the online virtual sailing community and racing simulator SailX.
Some of them such as Sailorski, MiamiSailing and MOTHSTER have fairly obvious inspirations.
But why BustedGristle? What does that mean?
And why did someone call himself whereiswaldo?
Of course you don't have to register and choose a name. You can sail as a guest and be temporarily allocated a name like Guest_54. It's best to keep out of the way of guests. It's usually someone who is totally clueless or some hotshot sailing anonymously to wreak havoc on his enemies. Either way they will cause you grief. But why did someone call himself UnwantedGuest?
And then there is HamB. No idea what it means. Someone took the piss out of him by creating an ID called EggsB. Strange people these sailxors.
Bluenose is a fine sailing name. Someone strange had fun at his expense by registering as Rednose. Very droll.
Some of the names are not very modest. We have SofaKingFast and BigTwingGuy for example. And the outrageously boastful SexOnThe Reach. I wonder what kind of boat he has? (I assume that 99% of players are male. Women have more sense.)
Some are a little rude... suckmywake, kissmystern and eatmybeno for example, although I'm not really sure what a "beno" is.
And others just puzzle me. Anyone know what 21minsmalone means?
And why would anyone call themselves VomitComet?
Me, I'm just tillerman. Same as here. Some of the other players even ask me about my blog (to distract me during a race usually.)
Yup. We SailX players are pretty strange dudes.
What name would you choose if you played SailX?
It was a tough life for our early ancestors. There were all sorts of scary creatures out there... hyenas as big as bears, saber-toothed tigers, and many other mega-sized carnivores... all on the prowl for a nice juicy dinner of australopithecus. The only way our forefathers survived was by living in social groups and looking out for each other. That's why we are such peaceful, cooperative and social animals today (in spite of what you might conclude if you've been watching some of those Tea Party protests recently.)
At least that's the current theory proposed by many anthropologists. For example, check out Early humans on the menu.
This is a problem if you are competing in a sailboat race. You may think you are trying to win but really much of what you do is based on your inheritance of unconscious dogmas that require you to behave in accordance with principles that were essential to the survival of your primitive, pack-living ancestors. You accept being controlled, you acquiesce in being beaten, and you restrain your aggressiveness. You are embarrassed by winning, you think that the current pecking order in the fleet is OK, and you feel that losing is a satisfactory outcome.
At least that's what Stuart Walker writes in his latest book, The Code of Competition. Walker claims that we amateur sailors are handicapped by an innate need to comply with an altruistic Code of Competition. We can't help it. It's in our genes. It's how our ancestors avoided being eaten by that scary saber-toothed tiger. How strange!
I like the concept. It's yet another excuse I can use for not winning. My genes made me do it.
However, it's not clear to me from the blurb at the above link whether the learned Doctor Walker tells us in his book how to overcome our genetic Mr. Nice Guy problem and win some races in spite of ourselves.
Damn, I guess I'll just have to buy the book to find out.
