She's been sitting on the shelf for several months as I just hadn't felt it was the right time yet to take her out. However, last week I decided to take the plunge and start a relationship with her but only on special occasions for a while.
Dressed in some nifty new red and black numbers she looked ready for action. I was excited to be giving her a whirl. After all she's never been rigged before and I was about to take her out for her first ride around the bay.
There are some rules for the first date. I'm not quite sure where they come from but current etiquette has it that you don't want to get your vang too tight and it's not a good idea to yank too hard on the downhaul in the first couple of hours. Something about letting her relax on your first encounter so that she will be in better shape on future outings. Apparently it does wonders for her performance over the long term.
So that's what we did. On Friday evening I took her over to one of my favorite spots in the East Bay where I've had some success before. She looked crisp and white and so young, with not a wrinkle in sight. Made her predecessor look old and tired by comparison.
We took it gently to start with but, at least on my part, it was love at first sight. She seemed a bit longer in the luff than her immediate predecessor; I'm a sucker for long luffs. Her bottom had a perfect curve, not too full, just a perfect shape. Her leech was nice and tight as it should be. Not a flutter in sight (except in my heart.)
I tried some gentle beating and I was surprised by how well she responded. But mostly I reached around a bit and that was the most exciting part of the evening for me. Man, she seems fast.
I haven't been block-to-block with her yet but I suspect that is a definite possibility the next time we go out. I'm planning a special trip for our next date when I am looking forward to showing her off to some of my old friends.
Monday, June 09, 2008
Sunday, June 08, 2008
More Sailing Goals
When I proposed the subject of Sailing Goals for our current group writing project I had an inkling that some of my regular readers would react by submitting articles that questioned the whole concept of having "goals" for their sailing activities. I know that some of you are ambitious racing sailors, but many of you view the sport as a relaxation, an escape from the stress of the daily grind, a chance to enjoy time on the water with friends and family. Who has goals for that stuff?
Captain JP perhaps summed up this reaction best in his post Sailing Goals - What Goals? by arguing that the concept of a goal "seems a bit too organised for a hobby which is by nature more ad-hoc, and having one is slightly against the whole spirit of just doing it for the fun of it."
Carol Anne's My Goal Post (ouch - that's worse than some of my post title puns) is all about her "goal not to have a goal". Or is it? She says that she has "a seriously jaundiced attitude toward all that optimistic goal-setting stuff" but does share with us some of her aspirations for youth sailing in her area and her hopes for her friend's success in the Mallory Cup. That's OK. I spent six sailing seasons a few years back focused on developing junior sailors in various ways and that's a pretty damn fine goal too.
Now Soulsailor was once a national champion in the Optimist Class and has recently been one of the UK hotshots in the Enterprise class. But he's now a family man and starting to do more sailing with his kids. So even he is wondering how to set his priorities for sailing this year, particularly the balance between Open Meetings vs Club Racing, but one thing he is sure of... he wants to spend more time with SoulCrew.
And then we have that poor old confused soul, Tillerman, who wrote some Muddled Musings on Sailing Goals. Sounds to me as if he too is finally starting to realize that sailing is all about enjoying as much time on the water as possible, and that racing successes don't amount to much except a few dusty trophies on a shelf.
I have promises of some more posts for the project in the next few days. A couple of people have already sent me hints of what articles they are going to write. One promises to be an extremely original and graphic way to present a goal; the other will be some thoughts about goals from a sailor with a deep appreciation and understanding of our sport.
So please have a shot at the group writing project yourself. Full instructions are at Sailing Goals. You have until next Saturday, June 14, to send in your entry.
Captain JP perhaps summed up this reaction best in his post Sailing Goals - What Goals? by arguing that the concept of a goal "seems a bit too organised for a hobby which is by nature more ad-hoc, and having one is slightly against the whole spirit of just doing it for the fun of it."
Carol Anne's My Goal Post (ouch - that's worse than some of my post title puns) is all about her "goal not to have a goal". Or is it? She says that she has "a seriously jaundiced attitude toward all that optimistic goal-setting stuff" but does share with us some of her aspirations for youth sailing in her area and her hopes for her friend's success in the Mallory Cup. That's OK. I spent six sailing seasons a few years back focused on developing junior sailors in various ways and that's a pretty damn fine goal too.
Now Soulsailor was once a national champion in the Optimist Class and has recently been one of the UK hotshots in the Enterprise class. But he's now a family man and starting to do more sailing with his kids. So even he is wondering how to set his priorities for sailing this year, particularly the balance between Open Meetings vs Club Racing, but one thing he is sure of... he wants to spend more time with SoulCrew.
And then we have that poor old confused soul, Tillerman, who wrote some Muddled Musings on Sailing Goals. Sounds to me as if he too is finally starting to realize that sailing is all about enjoying as much time on the water as possible, and that racing successes don't amount to much except a few dusty trophies on a shelf.
I have promises of some more posts for the project in the next few days. A couple of people have already sent me hints of what articles they are going to write. One promises to be an extremely original and graphic way to present a goal; the other will be some thoughts about goals from a sailor with a deep appreciation and understanding of our sport.
So please have a shot at the group writing project yourself. Full instructions are at Sailing Goals. You have until next Saturday, June 14, to send in your entry.
Saturday, June 07, 2008
Muddled Musings on Sailing Goals
Some random thoughts about this whole process of goals in sailing...
Why do we have them? How to state them? What good are they?
Last year I had a goal to "finish in the top half of my fleet at the Laser Masters World Championships." Very specific. Very measurable. But not much good by itself. What am I supposed to do with a goal like that? It talks about an outcome that I can't control. It all depends on how good the other sailors at the regatta are, and whether the weather and wave conditions suit me or not... all variables outside my control. If it inspired me to take some other actions like fix some faults in my technique, improve my racing skills through competing at more events locally, practice more, achieve the best target body weight, improve my fitness etc. etc. then it would be of some value. But by itself it is worthless.
As it was, I achieved that objective at the 2007 Worlds in Spain in October but failed at the 2008 Worlds in Australia in February. So what does that prove? I dunno.
This year my primary sailing goal is to do 100 days of Lasering between Jan 1 and Dec 31. Something that's very much in my control. Every day when I get up I can choose whether to go sailing or not. If I don't make it to 100 I have only myself to blame.
Of course the hidden agenda is that I am hoping that my sailing skills and my racing performance will improve if I spend significantly spend more days on the water in my Laser than I ever have in my life before. Still that Type-A personality who always wants to do better. Still hoping for some positive impact on the outcome of the races I enter.
But how I choose to achieve the 100 days is completely open. Maybe I will spend a whole day out on the bay. Or maybe I will just fit in an hour or so of practice one evening. Maybe I will travel to sailing resorts, or go to regattas abroad, or sign up for a couple of clinics. Or race lots of local regattas. Or go frostbiting. Maybe I will sail with some friends or just go out for an afternoon and practice on my own. Or all of the above. Actually "all of the above" is exactly what I am doing.
It's a bit of an experiment. If I sail a Laser 100 days in 2008 will I achieve better results in races in 2009? I don't know. We will see.
So how is it going?
At the beginning of the year I had a rough plan that I would sail 40 days in the six colder months of the year Jan/Feb/Mar and Oct/Nov/Dec and 60 days in the warmer six middle months. That would require six or seven days a month in the colder months and ten days a month in the warmer months. Seemed doable.
I figured I would get a running start on the year by going to Cabarete in the Dominican Republic for a clinic and a regatta in January, to Australia for the Masters Worlds in February, and to Florida for a clinic in March. But somehow since then things have slipped a bit. I hoped to be at 40 days by the end of May but I only made it to 33.
So what to do? Adjust of course. I will need to sail more days a month than I had planned in June, July, August and September in order to catch up. That's one of the values of a goal, so you can make adjustments along the way if you're not on track to achieve your goal. I just have to sail more days this summer. It's a hard life but somebody's got to do it.
Why do we have them? How to state them? What good are they?
Last year I had a goal to "finish in the top half of my fleet at the Laser Masters World Championships." Very specific. Very measurable. But not much good by itself. What am I supposed to do with a goal like that? It talks about an outcome that I can't control. It all depends on how good the other sailors at the regatta are, and whether the weather and wave conditions suit me or not... all variables outside my control. If it inspired me to take some other actions like fix some faults in my technique, improve my racing skills through competing at more events locally, practice more, achieve the best target body weight, improve my fitness etc. etc. then it would be of some value. But by itself it is worthless.
As it was, I achieved that objective at the 2007 Worlds in Spain in October but failed at the 2008 Worlds in Australia in February. So what does that prove? I dunno.
This year my primary sailing goal is to do 100 days of Lasering between Jan 1 and Dec 31. Something that's very much in my control. Every day when I get up I can choose whether to go sailing or not. If I don't make it to 100 I have only myself to blame.
Of course the hidden agenda is that I am hoping that my sailing skills and my racing performance will improve if I spend significantly spend more days on the water in my Laser than I ever have in my life before. Still that Type-A personality who always wants to do better. Still hoping for some positive impact on the outcome of the races I enter.
But how I choose to achieve the 100 days is completely open. Maybe I will spend a whole day out on the bay. Or maybe I will just fit in an hour or so of practice one evening. Maybe I will travel to sailing resorts, or go to regattas abroad, or sign up for a couple of clinics. Or race lots of local regattas. Or go frostbiting. Maybe I will sail with some friends or just go out for an afternoon and practice on my own. Or all of the above. Actually "all of the above" is exactly what I am doing.
It's a bit of an experiment. If I sail a Laser 100 days in 2008 will I achieve better results in races in 2009? I don't know. We will see.
So how is it going?
At the beginning of the year I had a rough plan that I would sail 40 days in the six colder months of the year Jan/Feb/Mar and Oct/Nov/Dec and 60 days in the warmer six middle months. That would require six or seven days a month in the colder months and ten days a month in the warmer months. Seemed doable.
I figured I would get a running start on the year by going to Cabarete in the Dominican Republic for a clinic and a regatta in January, to Australia for the Masters Worlds in February, and to Florida for a clinic in March. But somehow since then things have slipped a bit. I hoped to be at 40 days by the end of May but I only made it to 33.
So what to do? Adjust of course. I will need to sail more days a month than I had planned in June, July, August and September in order to catch up. That's one of the values of a goal, so you can make adjustments along the way if you're not on track to achieve your goal. I just have to sail more days this summer. It's a hard life but somebody's got to do it.
Friday, June 06, 2008
Tiverton Tilling
I explained before in The Constant Gardener how my hasty choice of the unoriginal and entirely obvious pseudonym Tillerman for my role as the author of a sailing blog turned out to be apt in another way that I hadn't considered when I chose the name. Briefly... my wife is an avid gardener and I like to help her with the gardening which involves "tilling" the soil, so we are both "tillers" in the agricultural sense of the word...Tillerman and Tillerwoman. Cute, eh?
I've been doing a lot of tilling lately. This spring I've made three raised beds for vegetable gardening, a perennial border, and a rock garden. It was harder than I thought. Either this land hasn't been plowed since Weetamoo roamed these hills or, more likely, when the builder of our house blasted out a ledge on the bedrock on which to build the foundations he simply piled soil on top of all the rocks left over from the blasting.
There are a lot of rocks buried in our back yard. Little rocks. Big rocks. Huge bloody rocks. Before preparing an area for planting I've been digging over the soil and removing those rocks. When I come across a rock that's way too big for me to lift I dig all around it and see if I can lever it up half an inch with my shovel. Being a stubborn kind of fellow and a fan of Archimedes I figure that if I can move it up half an inch it's only a matter of time and sweat and levers and ramps and wedges to be able to move it up three feet and sideways thirty feet.
I've spent many hot sweaty sunny afternoons in the last couple of weeks removing rocks from an area that Tillerwoman had chosen for a perennial garden. Then I spent a couple of days burying all the rocks again in another area that Tillerwoman had designated to be a rock garden.
Don't ask. I'm sure there's some method in this madness.
Anyway, on Tuesday this week I finished tilling and fertilizing the perennial patch, Tillerwoman and I visited the local nursery and bought plants to fill it, and by late afternoon she was happily planting said plants in aforementioned patch. I made some sarcastic comment about how it took me two weeks of heaving rocks so that she could enjoy an hour of planting, and then suggested that maybe it still wasn't too late for me to fit in a sail as a reward for all my efforts.
My wonderful wife agreed that dinner could easily be delayed a few hours as we were "only having salad". (Having seen the masses of green stuff now thrusting its way up in the raised beds, I suspect we will be having a lot of salads this summer.) So before she could change her mind I left her to her planting, hitched up the Laser trailer to the car, and went off for a blast on the Sakonnet River.
It was a warm sunny evening. It was a good sail. What else can I tell you? Did you think this blog was about sailing?
I've been doing a lot of tilling lately. This spring I've made three raised beds for vegetable gardening, a perennial border, and a rock garden. It was harder than I thought. Either this land hasn't been plowed since Weetamoo roamed these hills or, more likely, when the builder of our house blasted out a ledge on the bedrock on which to build the foundations he simply piled soil on top of all the rocks left over from the blasting.
There are a lot of rocks buried in our back yard. Little rocks. Big rocks. Huge bloody rocks. Before preparing an area for planting I've been digging over the soil and removing those rocks. When I come across a rock that's way too big for me to lift I dig all around it and see if I can lever it up half an inch with my shovel. Being a stubborn kind of fellow and a fan of Archimedes I figure that if I can move it up half an inch it's only a matter of time and sweat and levers and ramps and wedges to be able to move it up three feet and sideways thirty feet.
I've spent many hot sweaty sunny afternoons in the last couple of weeks removing rocks from an area that Tillerwoman had chosen for a perennial garden. Then I spent a couple of days burying all the rocks again in another area that Tillerwoman had designated to be a rock garden.
Don't ask. I'm sure there's some method in this madness.
Anyway, on Tuesday this week I finished tilling and fertilizing the perennial patch, Tillerwoman and I visited the local nursery and bought plants to fill it, and by late afternoon she was happily planting said plants in aforementioned patch. I made some sarcastic comment about how it took me two weeks of heaving rocks so that she could enjoy an hour of planting, and then suggested that maybe it still wasn't too late for me to fit in a sail as a reward for all my efforts.
My wonderful wife agreed that dinner could easily be delayed a few hours as we were "only having salad". (Having seen the masses of green stuff now thrusting its way up in the raised beds, I suspect we will be having a lot of salads this summer.) So before she could change her mind I left her to her planting, hitched up the Laser trailer to the car, and went off for a blast on the Sakonnet River.
It was a warm sunny evening. It was a good sail. What else can I tell you? Did you think this blog was about sailing?
Thursday, June 05, 2008
Fogland Fartlek
In my younger days (warning: old geezer reminiscence coming up) when I was more serious about running as a sport, I used to do something called interval training. Basically this means running fast for a while and then slower for a while and then repeating until you collapse in a puddle of sweat. The running books are full of detailed instructions for intervals that read something like "run 6x800m at 3:30 pace with 400m recovery at 2:00 pace followed by 4x400m at 1:40 pace with 400m recovery at 2:10 pace....and so on and so on." It all has the impression of being very carefully and scientifically worked out to optimize your training success. Incredibly earnest, not to say obsessive.
Then there was something called fartlek which is a form of interval training for folk who are a bit more casual or perhaps just numerically challenged. It has the same mix of faster and easier running intervals but you can be more flexible about the length and spacing of the intervals. Maybe you just say you are going to run at a faster pace to the next tree and then jog slowly for a while. Then run to the next corner and walk until you reach the lake. No need for a measured track or a stopwatch or a 500 page training manual.
For those of you in the back row snickering at that word "fartlek", it's Swedish and means speed play. Fart=speed. Lek=play. Now stop snickering.
I've never heard of anyone using fartlek in sailing but then I don't get out much these days. Last Friday I launched my Laser off Fogland Beach on a gorgeous afternoon for sailing with just enough wind to demand full-on hiking upwind but not so much that the waves were actually hitting me in the face. Perfect. So I decided to see if a version of fartlek would work for building hiking stamina and endurance.
You see, I take it as an article of faith that the reason that all the fit young guys beat me upwind in a blow is that they can hike harder and longer than I do. The harder you hike the faster you go. The fitter you are, the harder and longer you can hike. Must be true. So if I want to go faster I need to be younger and fitter. Well, fitter anyway.
So on Friday I invented a sort of hiking fartlek. I hiked as hard as I could while I counted up to 50, and then shifted gears to slightly less intense hiking while I counted up to 50 again. (If there were trees and corners in the middle of the Sakonnet River I could have used them as landmarks to break up my hiking fartlek as you do in running fartlek. But there aren't any. So I counted.)
And then I repeated while I counted up to 60, 70, 80, 90.... until I reached the point where I had reached my maximum time for flat-out full-on hiking also known as onset of the quads saying, "Hey dude, enough is enough. Who do you think you are, Paige Railey?" So then I carried on with the exercise but counting down and doing progressively shorter intervals.
It's amazing how such a simple act as concentrating on counting makes the time go quickly. A bit like counting sheep to help you go to sleep I suppose. So after half an hour or so of upwind I went downwind for a spell, way past my starting point and then started fartlek hiking again. This time the quads insisted on some shorter intervals so it was count up to 30, tack, count up to 30, tack, and so on and so on until I was back at the beach.
Well, wasn't that incredibly anal-retentive of me?
Then there was something called fartlek which is a form of interval training for folk who are a bit more casual or perhaps just numerically challenged. It has the same mix of faster and easier running intervals but you can be more flexible about the length and spacing of the intervals. Maybe you just say you are going to run at a faster pace to the next tree and then jog slowly for a while. Then run to the next corner and walk until you reach the lake. No need for a measured track or a stopwatch or a 500 page training manual.
For those of you in the back row snickering at that word "fartlek", it's Swedish and means speed play. Fart=speed. Lek=play. Now stop snickering.
I've never heard of anyone using fartlek in sailing but then I don't get out much these days. Last Friday I launched my Laser off Fogland Beach on a gorgeous afternoon for sailing with just enough wind to demand full-on hiking upwind but not so much that the waves were actually hitting me in the face. Perfect. So I decided to see if a version of fartlek would work for building hiking stamina and endurance.
You see, I take it as an article of faith that the reason that all the fit young guys beat me upwind in a blow is that they can hike harder and longer than I do. The harder you hike the faster you go. The fitter you are, the harder and longer you can hike. Must be true. So if I want to go faster I need to be younger and fitter. Well, fitter anyway.
So on Friday I invented a sort of hiking fartlek. I hiked as hard as I could while I counted up to 50, and then shifted gears to slightly less intense hiking while I counted up to 50 again. (If there were trees and corners in the middle of the Sakonnet River I could have used them as landmarks to break up my hiking fartlek as you do in running fartlek. But there aren't any. So I counted.)
And then I repeated while I counted up to 60, 70, 80, 90.... until I reached the point where I had reached my maximum time for flat-out full-on hiking also known as onset of the quads saying, "Hey dude, enough is enough. Who do you think you are, Paige Railey?" So then I carried on with the exercise but counting down and doing progressively shorter intervals.
It's amazing how such a simple act as concentrating on counting makes the time go quickly. A bit like counting sheep to help you go to sleep I suppose. So after half an hour or so of upwind I went downwind for a spell, way past my starting point and then started fartlek hiking again. This time the quads insisted on some shorter intervals so it was count up to 30, tack, count up to 30, tack, and so on and so on until I was back at the beach.
Well, wasn't that incredibly anal-retentive of me?
Wednesday, June 04, 2008
Moonlight, Warm Beer, Whiskeytown and Hamster Wheels
Our group writing project on Sailing Goals is off to a flying start with four talented boating writers crossing the line right after the gun.
Almost OCS but actually winning the start was Edward with Secondary Sailing Goals, a reminder that even if you have a big ass main goal like "cross an ocean" it's also good to maintain balance by having some broader goals such as seeing your kid sail by herself or taking a moonlight sail. Edward also breaks the news about who is really behind the most controversial decision in Olympic sailing this year.
Mondale just wants to get back on the water as often as possible, a fine goal. He has some specific plans and some "partners in crime" to go with him. I look forward especially to reading on his blog later this summer about how he succeeds with his aim to do some Warm Beering, Cold Beering.
David Anderson has been racing his Megabyte in the Whiskeytown Regatta and, after a few learning experiences there, has developed some training goals for the upcoming High Sierra Regatta. I can definitely relate to most of his Lessons from Race 4 and Some New Training Goals. Sail faster downwind? Get in better shape? Learn to roll tack properly? I'm with you dude.
Bonnie's article about Little Goals is ostensibly about kayaking rather than sailing, but has some lessons for all of us Type-A personalities who sometimes take our sports a little too seriously. She has written about why chasing high-ticket dreams is not right for her just now; and why what she describes as a "little goal", paddling ten miles a week, makes more sense. As she so wisely says, "I think I should just chill a bit, I'm stressing out over this a lot and first and foremost boating is something I do for the enjoyment." Something we should all remember.
Great stuff. Keep the stories coming. Full instructions on how you can participate in this project at Sailing Goals.
Almost OCS but actually winning the start was Edward with Secondary Sailing Goals, a reminder that even if you have a big ass main goal like "cross an ocean" it's also good to maintain balance by having some broader goals such as seeing your kid sail by herself or taking a moonlight sail. Edward also breaks the news about who is really behind the most controversial decision in Olympic sailing this year.
Mondale just wants to get back on the water as often as possible, a fine goal. He has some specific plans and some "partners in crime" to go with him. I look forward especially to reading on his blog later this summer about how he succeeds with his aim to do some Warm Beering, Cold Beering.
David Anderson has been racing his Megabyte in the Whiskeytown Regatta and, after a few learning experiences there, has developed some training goals for the upcoming High Sierra Regatta. I can definitely relate to most of his Lessons from Race 4 and Some New Training Goals. Sail faster downwind? Get in better shape? Learn to roll tack properly? I'm with you dude.
Bonnie's article about Little Goals is ostensibly about kayaking rather than sailing, but has some lessons for all of us Type-A personalities who sometimes take our sports a little too seriously. She has written about why chasing high-ticket dreams is not right for her just now; and why what she describes as a "little goal", paddling ten miles a week, makes more sense. As she so wisely says, "I think I should just chill a bit, I'm stressing out over this a lot and first and foremost boating is something I do for the enjoyment." Something we should all remember.
Great stuff. Keep the stories coming. Full instructions on how you can participate in this project at Sailing Goals.
Tuesday, June 03, 2008
Sailing Goals
After the success of last month's group writing project on Learning Experiences, let's do it again... The topic for this month is Sailing Goals. Your task, if you choose to accept it, is to write a post about your sailing goal or goals.
We all have a goal don't we? Edward wants to cross an ocean to teach his kids that adventure is good and will be sailing in the Pacific Cup in a few weeks; I rashly announced at the beginning of this year that I want to sail my Laser on 100 days in 2008; and Christy wants to heave to in the very center of the lake in order to kiss a boy. How's that for three different sailing ambitions?
Or maybe you're less driven than Christy, Edward and me. Maybe your goal is to have fun sailing with your kid, or to install that new gizmo on your boat, or perhaps you have some zen-like goal to enjoy sailing without goals? Whatever. Write about that.
But please write something new. If you've already written a post on your blog about your 2008 sailing goals then you could write about what progress (or not) that you're making towards those goals, or how to set goals, or why sailing goals are (or aren't) a good thing... I'm sure you can think of something.
And you can participate even if you don't have your own blog. Same rules as before. This is how it works...
1. Write a post on your blog on the subject of Sailing Goals.
2. Once you've posted your story, let me know about it by sending an email to tillermeister@gmail.com including a link to your post. If you don't have a blog just email me the story and I will post it here. Please let me know about your post or send me your story before Saturday 14 June. Choose a unique title for your story please. We don't want a dozen posts all entitled My Sailing Goal.
3. I will post here two links to your story. Every day or so I will write a post listing any new entries in the project. Then at the end of the project I will provide a summary post with links to all of your articles about sailing goals.
Please participate in this project. Do it for fun. Do it to so that new readers will find your blog. Do it so that we can marvel about how many different types of sailor read this blog and how different their sailing aspirations are.
We all have a goal don't we? Edward wants to cross an ocean to teach his kids that adventure is good and will be sailing in the Pacific Cup in a few weeks; I rashly announced at the beginning of this year that I want to sail my Laser on 100 days in 2008; and Christy wants to heave to in the very center of the lake in order to kiss a boy. How's that for three different sailing ambitions?
Or maybe you're less driven than Christy, Edward and me. Maybe your goal is to have fun sailing with your kid, or to install that new gizmo on your boat, or perhaps you have some zen-like goal to enjoy sailing without goals? Whatever. Write about that.
But please write something new. If you've already written a post on your blog about your 2008 sailing goals then you could write about what progress (or not) that you're making towards those goals, or how to set goals, or why sailing goals are (or aren't) a good thing... I'm sure you can think of something.
And you can participate even if you don't have your own blog. Same rules as before. This is how it works...
1. Write a post on your blog on the subject of Sailing Goals.
2. Once you've posted your story, let me know about it by sending an email to tillermeister@gmail.com including a link to your post. If you don't have a blog just email me the story and I will post it here. Please let me know about your post or send me your story before Saturday 14 June. Choose a unique title for your story please. We don't want a dozen posts all entitled My Sailing Goal.
3. I will post here two links to your story. Every day or so I will write a post listing any new entries in the project. Then at the end of the project I will provide a summary post with links to all of your articles about sailing goals.
Please participate in this project. Do it for fun. Do it to so that new readers will find your blog. Do it so that we can marvel about how many different types of sailor read this blog and how different their sailing aspirations are.
Monday, June 02, 2008
Lasers Suck
Can you hear that giant sucking sound?
Actually I don't mean the giant sucking sound that Ross Perot talked about back in 1992, the sound of all our jobs going to Mexico. Of course he was only half right... all of our jobs eventually went to China... but he had the right idea.
No, I'm talking about the giant sucking sound that the Laser autobailer makes when you're tanking along at a speed that feels like warp 3 but is probably only about 4 knots or so. I love that sound.
God knows the Laser autobailer is one of the worst components ever installed in a boat. The little O-rings that keep it shut perish and break. And it's all too easy to kick it closed with your foot when you really want it open and you don't realize what you've done until the cockpit is half full of water and you're wondering why the rest of the fleet is so much faster than you all of a sudden. But I love that sweet sucking sound it makes when it's working properly.
Short pause to consider how many minutes will elapse before Joe Rouse posts a comment here telling me how the Force 5 autobailer is far superior...
Pause over.
Last Thursday I went for a sail from Colt State Park in Bristol over to Aquidneck Island heading directly for that monstrosity on the Portsmouth skyline known as The Tower at Carnegie Abbey, a 22 storey skyscraper that would look more at home in downtown Manhattan than in Portsmouth one of the most beautiful towns in New England with its farms and pastures and 56 miles of coastline not to mention its status as "The birthplace of American democracy - 1638".
Hey, look it up. It's true. 1638. American democracy started here. It says so on a sign when you drive into the town so it must be true.
Where was I? Where am I? Oh yes, I forget to mention that you too can live in the Great Silo of Aquidneck if you want to find 950 grand for a one-bedroom apartment or maybe 7 million for the penthouse. You'd better hurry though, it's selling fast, with those superb views of the crazy old man in his Laser sailing over from Bristol.
Oh yeah. I forgot. This is really a post about Laser sailing.
Anyway, the wind was from the south-west, a tasty 15 knots or so, and I could just about lay the Carnegie Abbey Phallus on a beam reach with only a bit of upwind work to clear Poppasquash Point each way. Man, what a ride. Wild planing reach for several miles. And all the time... that giant sucking sound. I love that sound.
There was a ketch out cruising the Eastern Passage but otherwise not a lot of other boat traffic. Just me and my little Laser and the giant sucking sound.
Lasers suck.
Actually I don't mean the giant sucking sound that Ross Perot talked about back in 1992, the sound of all our jobs going to Mexico. Of course he was only half right... all of our jobs eventually went to China... but he had the right idea.
No, I'm talking about the giant sucking sound that the Laser autobailer makes when you're tanking along at a speed that feels like warp 3 but is probably only about 4 knots or so. I love that sound.
God knows the Laser autobailer is one of the worst components ever installed in a boat. The little O-rings that keep it shut perish and break. And it's all too easy to kick it closed with your foot when you really want it open and you don't realize what you've done until the cockpit is half full of water and you're wondering why the rest of the fleet is so much faster than you all of a sudden. But I love that sweet sucking sound it makes when it's working properly.
Short pause to consider how many minutes will elapse before Joe Rouse posts a comment here telling me how the Force 5 autobailer is far superior...
Pause over.
Last Thursday I went for a sail from Colt State Park in Bristol over to Aquidneck Island heading directly for that monstrosity on the Portsmouth skyline known as The Tower at Carnegie Abbey, a 22 storey skyscraper that would look more at home in downtown Manhattan than in Portsmouth one of the most beautiful towns in New England with its farms and pastures and 56 miles of coastline not to mention its status as "The birthplace of American democracy - 1638".
Hey, look it up. It's true. 1638. American democracy started here. It says so on a sign when you drive into the town so it must be true.
Where was I? Where am I? Oh yes, I forget to mention that you too can live in the Great Silo of Aquidneck if you want to find 950 grand for a one-bedroom apartment or maybe 7 million for the penthouse. You'd better hurry though, it's selling fast, with those superb views of the crazy old man in his Laser sailing over from Bristol.
Oh yeah. I forgot. This is really a post about Laser sailing.
Anyway, the wind was from the south-west, a tasty 15 knots or so, and I could just about lay the Carnegie Abbey Phallus on a beam reach with only a bit of upwind work to clear Poppasquash Point each way. Man, what a ride. Wild planing reach for several miles. And all the time... that giant sucking sound. I love that sound.
There was a ketch out cruising the Eastern Passage but otherwise not a lot of other boat traffic. Just me and my little Laser and the giant sucking sound.
Lasers suck.
Sunday, June 01, 2008
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