J. Dillon, 11 years on a 27 footer, WOW!!!

[Katherine]

A floating brothel. I guess that's one way a gal can make a living on the water.

[MRJarret]

Thank You!!!

[Noah]

This is great!

[Bill R]

Keep it up please! This is great!

[J. Dillon]

Thanks for all the encouraging responses. It helps to keep me going.
I would like to post some images in some up coming text but my first attempt above didn't turn out the way I would have liked. I know Bob S. smoothly posts his art and know how very neatly. Any clues ? I have a lot of images coming up soon . Maybe I should start a click on album in Image station. Thanks again.

JD

[Hwyl]

You seem to be doing alright with images. I gasped and said a scotable word when I saw that tug and tow coming around the bend. Ipso facto -- you've got the realism.

[paladin]

Doin' good.....hope ya got more pics than me........hang on to 'em...

[py]

This is good. Brings back some forgotten details from when I lived aboard with wife and 3 kids in New Guinea. One time I bashed a rat to death with a stick in the cockpit-the trap held him, but didn't kill him. The boat next door was owned by the Prime Minister. I remember looking out the porthole of the head while doing what you do there, to see the sharp end of an automatic weapon as one of his body gaurds lounged against the side of our boat. Gave me a bit of a fright. We didn't lose any babies overboard, but one of ours in full batman costume took a slide off the marina into the water once. A neighbor grabbed him by the cape and fished him out. Remember walking the crying baby up and down the marina trying to settle him to sleep. Great social atmosphere, good friends. We fitted half doors in a few places around the boat as the baby became mobile, to keep him safe. Swung one of those toddler swings off the mizzen boom, pretty cute place to keep a baby. We had a solid ss rail all round the boat, hung a full sized domestic BBQ off it for outdoor cooking. Just unhooked it and left it on the marina when we went out for a sail. Its harder to go sailing when you live aboard. Unless you are really really disciplined, you end up with a whole lot of stuff that doesn't want to be tipped over to 45 degrees. Loved it though. Sorry, don't want to hijack your thread, keep it coming.

[Robbie]

Keep them coming
Regards
Robbie

[rufustr]

Fantastic writing, great stories.
Keep on posting please, I'm hanging on every word.

[lannig]

Allright JD you have us hooked there
And no follow up this morning I'm frustrated !
Or may be as you have us hooked ,you will now write your "memoires" and sold them in hardback/expensive/first edition/signed/... to all your followers on this forum ???
Mind you that is a very good idea ,don't forget I was the first to suggest it
May I get 10% of the royalties to finish my boat ??
Keep going I can't wait anymore and I do really like your style of writing
Best regards

Lannig
www.mavourneen-mary.com

[TomF]

Very fun stuff. Well written too ...

Add another reader to the unfolding book ...

[J. Dillon]

Before leaving the boat I placed everything edible in my ice box and took out what little garbage I had. Later that day I stopped by the local hardware store and got two traps and rat poison. May as well attack with two weapons I thought. I asked the salesman about the bait . He replied “Where are you going to use it?” “Down on the dock in a marina”, I replied .“Having a problem down there? Another guy bought some rat stuff this morning. They get thirsty and die some where else”, he added. “Good”, I said. I also got some wire mesh with about ½”openings. Aboard I cut it oversize round and bent it to fit snugly down the throat of my dorade vent. It would slow them down. Some peanut butter was smeared on both traps’ trigger. I carefully pulled back that big powerful spring and placed the two traps just under my cover. The pellets were also sprinkled liberally around out of sight beneath the tarp. It was Wednesday . In three days we liveaboarads would be watering up and could scheme collectively regarding our combined strategy. I ran into Jim who lived with his wife and two children aboard a wooden boat. He was fearful too and had plenty of evidence of rats aboard . They had started to gnaw at one portion of his cockpit locker . He heard it at night. His wife was ready to check into a motel with the kids. He also bought traps and poison. Back aboard I cooked my favorite stew in a pressure cooker. Another advantage of this rat proof container. Did a little reading and turned my heater off . Yes, off. I didn’t completely trust propane. The sleeping bag was quite warm during the night and all my insulation kept quite a bit of the heat contained. My ears were cocked for any noise. Nothing. Just a gentle roll with the sound of wind .I turned on my tape player. Mozart and the sea , a collection of Mozart’s greatest symphonies blended with gentle surf. It was soothing, calming. By 2 AM I woke and answered nature’s call . It was still pretty quiet. Back in the bag I drifted off to sleep. In the morning after a quick breakfast I took a glance at the still set traps under the tarp. Empty. The pellets were still around but just maybe less of them. Wishful thinking I thought. On the way to the car Jim was coming back from the dumpster with a big smile on his face. He had just disposed of two rats still in the trap. “I’ll get more traps” he said “I just don’t want to handle em in any way”. Who could blame him with the diseases this menace harbors. My score was 0. Friday night I got one. The thud like bang in the wee hours declared one victory. I felt like raising a rat flag something like the one WW2 pilots painted on their aircraft signifying downed enemies. On Saturday we compared notes Just about all liveaboarders had at least one victory. One guy got three. He had set 6 traps. All of us spread poison around as none of us had any pets. I even think old grouchy set a few traps in his work-office area, now aware of what the barge had delivered. I noticed “IT” seemed a bit cleaner. The box tables were gone along with the beer cans. The marina would have a lot to lose when the summer came if it was still rat infested. We further determined to continue our present strategy and see what happened and to confront the marina to hire a professional exterminator if things didn’t improve. We would share in the expense. Our liveaboard lawyer would write it all up in legalese.

The whims of wind, weather, irate managers, and rats were not the only concerns of. liveaboarders There was always a lingering threat of the Fire Marshal. He had the power to kick us all out . Our heating arrangements were make shift and would never pass any kind of inspection. Then there was the issue well as how the Fire dept. could get equipment down to the docks during icy weather in the event of a conflagration . My marina in New Rochelle was in Davenport Neck section and situated on the bottom of a fairly steep hill. During storms of ice and snow our manager /owner was not at all diligent in getting us plowed out. He didn’t live there. We did and as early risers shoveled the snow ourselves to get to work. Kitty litter helped and some us carried sand as well. By the time old grouchy came to work it was all done for him. I suspect none of us would be up to any code regarding fire prevention aboard or on the docks. The Fire Marshall never did come around, to my knowledge and just maybe a few bucks in the right places helped . I like to think he was under staffed and had plenty of populated areas to look after. A dozen liveaboarders were of no concern.

Our lawyer didn’t have to draft a rat document . For the most part the situation appeared under control . We all had victories, I don’t remember the total score. I got four more and now an “Ace” Our one mother and family breathed more easily. The pile driver was still banging away and the ice around was melting as the days lengthened. The end of hibernation neared . I still had a nightly visitor, but nothing in the one trap set. It was getting rusty. I could hear him at night. Something was up there over my head, noisy. Goddamn, he must be big and smart, I thought. The alpha male of rats. One Saturday I untied a few hold down lanyards and got under the cover . My insulation was all in place, though a bit ripped here and there, and I guess the rats hadn’t sensed its warmth potential. By the overturned dinghy, the trap was still set with the now moldy bait in place. I rebaited the trap with a nice big fresh glob of peanut butter. Apparently my visitor was not eager for tainted morsels. Maybe something “fresh” would tempt him. My mystery visitor didn’t come around every night and when absent I kind of missed him.. My cave was closing in on me. Boy, did I need spring. .

What does one do during long winter months in a cave? I missed tinkering in my workshop and darkroom. There was always something to make or repair and even write about (more about that later). Sailors traditionally did “scrimshaw” I was no different. In my cave I could read but I liked my hands busy so I also did pen and ink sketches. of sailing ships. Made a beautiful jewelry box of teak for daughter. It had full sailor’s sea chest beckets. The other, for my daughter in law, had a musical motif and miniature violin on the lid, as she was a professional musician. There’s many a yacht’s wheel or tiller with a Turk’s head I tied indicating mid rudder position. I even managed to build a couple of half hull models of clipper ships like “Young America” and” Cutty Sark.”.



This model clipper survived a sinking and fire aboard. I had to completely redo the rigging . If you look close to the top of the main mast you’ll see a remaining scorch. I kept it aboard as a reminder to inspect everything.

Spring finally came and we all had to be out of there by the end of March The marina was busy. It was time to get ready to leave and head back to Stamford, CT, this time to a smaller marina. and go through phone screw ups burden again with a new bunch of strange messages.. Saturday the cover came off, the insulation dumped, the wooden frame off and the engine put back into commission. I took the dinghy off the boat . Something rolled out and hit the deck . It was a mussel shell. More stuff appeared - , debris of all kinds including fish bones, and there about a two feet away a long black turd. Puzzled. Then it came to me - a freekin racoon had made the overturned dinghy his dining area and “rest “stop. I figured he climbed up on the underside of the dinghy’s seat, enjoyed the escaping heat, dined in relative warmth and crapped as he left. I had occasionally encountered this creature before, coming back late at night. He would dominate the dock defying you to come on , pass him to get to your boat. I often backed down, returned to the van to get something I forgot ( I told my self), and then back to the now empty dock.

Sunday I said farewell to my neighbors, cast off and sailed for Stamford never to winter in New Rochelle again.

Next episode Bermuda Bound.. alone

[CCutshall]

JD,
Good read. Thanks for sharing.

[John B]

( waits, patiently)

[rbgarr]

Fun reading. I hope you are enjoying reliving this.

We learned the same lesson about animals finding their way into insulation. I had several garbage bags of old fg batting in the basement one winter which a skunk burrowed into. Disgusting mess he made, too.

[J. Dillon]

Yes Rbgarr, I 'm enjoying reliving and reteiveing old memories. Something good to before Alzheimers destroys memory banks . Maybe my great grand children will enjoing scaning what I put to paper as well as mute viewers. But it is hard to get it down in a legible readable way.

Back to the story.

JD

[Andrew Craig-Bennett]

I'd missed this.

Excellent stuff and wonderfully written.

More, please...

(I only did it for 18 months or so.)

[J. Dillon]

Preparing the boat and my self.

For some of us, planning a blue water passage is an event we rather subconsciously scheme for. You don’t really conduct a step by step process as in getting medical or law degrees. Your sub conscious knows what you have to do from reading exploits of blue water sailors, absorbing by osmosis what they did and how they did it. It just kind of lies there lodged in your memory to retrieve in the future. The commitments of the real world like family, job or career take over most of your conscious mind. With a marriage over, the family on its own, age creeping up, my responsibilities relieved, I was free. It was time to re surface this suppressed scheme and make it reality So, I redesigned the boat’s interior. There was no way any woman near my age would commit to long time cruising aboard “Shaula”. I could easily see that “candidates”, in my mind at least, reacted when I hinted at tropical shores. So I was free to alter the interior to suit my personal requirements.

Altering the inside

I started with the stb. fwd bunk raising it to about 50" off the cabin sole. Its white laminate top would be the main chart table with strong grabable fiddle along the edge On top a folded chart could easily be spread.. Beneath, I constructed a series of drawers, the top one to accommodate charts, Nautical Almanac, sight reduction tables and off shore plotting sheets; the other drawers, clothes , and one portable typewriter. It all still looked like a bunk but higher. I guess its smooth white surface could serve as an operating table for a medical student to practice on.
Opposite, would be the main sleeping bunk complete with a sea cloth. Over this bunk, I installed a solid oak grab rail. A great ape could hang from it. Aft of the mast, opposite the gimbaled stove, would be a second narrow berth with a high fiddle. It would serve mostly as a catch-all for sails and other gear you threw in or on it . Over it I built a small fold up table with a 12 V and 110 volt lamp. The bunk if cleared, enabled one to sit sideways, fold the table down and dine with a guest opposite. The other nav. station was too tiny and with the ice box underneath, contents were difficult to access. Coming down the companionway I also installed oak grab handles. ( you can see them in the opening images of this thread). My stove had a great sturdy stainless. steel bar across the top. I could lock the stove in one position. This rail was strong enough to grab when things got rough. For the main bunk I stitched up a heavy canvas sea cloth and sewed in grommets to receive the lanyards which were snapped into grommet eyes secured to my over head grab rail. The canvas would keep me from falling out when heeled hard over on the port tack. In the forepeak I contrived a reel to roll up the anchor line. It guaranteed free flow of line when anchoring, but was a pain when rolling it back on the reel . In weighing anchor single handed, I would get the cable up on deck any which way, and secure the plough anchor. When gaining some sea room, I’d engage the wind vane, and neatly recoil the line on deck to afford getting it below easily. Then I’d take a good look around and dive below to roll in the line on the reel. It worked but was a sweaty job. My thinking was when anchoring in an emergency, guarantee the anchor cable paying out smoothly with no possibility of kinks to snag in the thru deck opening. Forward of the bulkhead separating the main cabin berth was the head. It had a Y valve and a a tiny bladder holding tank. A little sink with a sea water pump with small shelf hung on this bulkhead to port.

Haggling and Nav. Gear

Navigation was important and I practiced aboard often as I could to hone my sextant skills even on Long Island Sound when I could get a clear horizon. I guess it looked silly. Charted locations on shore also served for practice during winter months. Greenwich Point in CT was a favorite. I could walk down to the water’s edge, take a sight (that gave me a height of eye of 6'), and later reduce it in the boat. I found that some contractor during the night had moved the point several miles. He worked secretly for several weeks and moved it back closer . Finally he had it in the right place by my calculations. I never informed the authorities of his activities. I also had a Loran receiver. Some crap out on you when getting close to Bermuda and so it did. My compass was a sturdy British made Sestrel. I made a deviation table for power and sail . My sextant made by Brandis, and ancient. In 1950 I haggled a merchant in Turkey for it It was probably made before WW II instruments). It had a vernier scale. The mirrors were in good shape despite its age. I discarded the telescope as it inverted the image and I found that quite confusing. Maybe it would be better in the southern hemisphere ( wink). I recycled a 2x scope for it from a warped plastic Davis sextant and crafted a batt compartment, a toggle switch in the handle and wired up a small red light to illuminate the vernier. It worked well. Even then I was subconsciously preparing for this time. Years ago in a real home with family still around, I would lift it from its mahogany dovetailed box to polish up its silvered arc. It probably pre dated WW II. I often wondered what skipper or mate swung an arc to get Venus to kiss the horizon? Did his ship come under fire? Were U boats lurking near by? In the age of instant positioning, there’s still romance and mystique about this instrument. For time, I used a bulkhead mounted quartz “Time bowl “clock.It picked up time ticks from Fort Collins CO. and a good digital watch .
My look out was to be a marine radar detector. It was a hand held unit ( forget the name). The alarm would sound if I was being scanned by any radar. It had a scale by which you could set the distance and being hand held, determine the direction of the signal scan. It worked but......
A friend had given me a beautiful taffrail log. It was brass and made by Walker. It read in statue miles There was no line for it but did have the rotator.. He was a dreamer but when it looked like I was serious about this he gave it to me. I obtained suitable braided line and attached a six foot leader of 1/4" stainless steel wire to the brass rotator . That was to deter sharks. I still have it.

Emerging from Land fall navigation I had rolled up under my arm three charts of Bermuda, a list of gear recommended for this kind of passage and the current regulations expected at customs. I all ready had pilot charts depicting wind roses and currents. A fun scrutiny by arm chair voyagers as they showed just what mariners learned about the seas dominating this world.
A small hand held RDF unit rounded out my navigation gear as well as the usual smaller stuff like hand bearing compass, etc.

"Shaula almost reay to go"

Altering the outside

I had the boat hauled to inspect things and do the bottom paint ritual. I had all ready installed the wind vane and constructed a trim tab for the rudder. I now wanted to put steps on the rudder to make boarding easier from the water. . Two steps below the water line and two oak grab handles above made climbing aboard easy. They would slow the boat down, but so what? I’m not racing. I rigged up a stainless 1/4" stainless steel jack line along the deck fore and aft, port and starboard.. The safety harness I bought had a six foot tether with a stout snap hook on the end. It was easy to engage/disengage on to the jack line. It was clumsy to use but afforded some attachment to the boat if things got bad on deck.. I bought a small Bermuda flag to run up the stb. spreader on arrival in Bermuda and sewed up a yellow quarante flag. On the backstay I contrived a permanent homemade radar reflector. It also held a combination red over red light signifying “Captain is dead” to comply with nav. lights regs.. The loran antenna also sprung from this contraption. The port spreader had a block whereby I could run up an additional reflector made by Davis. For years I had a great little folding dink. It was made by Prout. It was a cinch to open up, place in the floorboard /seat, and wedge it all in and firm by a scissor strut. It could hold two small people or one normal. The canvas/wood side section was stowed on deck and was lashed to the shrouds port side. Its floor boards portion, was lashed stb side aft, to the railing, to form a kind of back rest..

“That will be 2,150 bucks. Check or credit card?”, the salesman briskly asked . Sheech, I thought I could make two or more round trips in the best stateroom aboard a cruise ship to Bermuda for that kind of money. Instead, I’m going alone, a bit apprehensive, and doubting my own commitment to the whole project. “Credit card”, I replied . There’s no turning back now, I thought. I grabbed the big black bag that contained an Avon two man life raft and put it in my van. Inspection tags hung out from the sides and many warnings adorned its surface. This is serious stuff. You could be in it some day wondering why you did this.

I kind of knew what the insurance broker would say when I requested a quote concerning an off shore rider policy for the boat. He had asked “ What kind of experience does your crew have?” I replied, “I’ll get back to you on that.” and hung up the phone. I was licensed, had been a mate and skipper aboard a couple of 40 ton schooners before marriage. as well as my own array of boats. Last year I navigated a friend’s 36' ketch to Bermuda.
But crew... I was skipper and the crew . Well, forget about any kind of insurance.

Next The passage

JD

[LeeG]

damn,,glad I get out of the Bilge to find this

[Hughman]

keep it coming....!

[lannig]

Thanks JD
Great stuff
Do write a book !

Lannig
www.mavourneen-mary.com

[Hwyl]

Jack, I especially need my nightly fix tonight.

[paladin]

still enjoying it......just a comment about the stainless steel "deterrent" line on the rotator for sharks....I posted a similar incident elsewhere about such an incident.....didja ketch the shark?

[Paul Pless]

Jack, I especially need my nightly fix tonight.

LOL, me too.

[J. Dillon]

Larry cranked me up the mast to check out things, wires, fittings etc. A new bulb now rested in the mast head light.. I had the Avon life raft under canvas cover and securely lashed down forward of the mast. It had its own thru deck eye bolts to tie the lashings to. I provisioned up the boat with lots of canned goods and extra water bottles, topped off the tanks fuel & water but held back on the fresh provisions. That would come on July 5th a few day later.

But first a diversion... The date was July 4, 1986. I agreed to crew for my friend Bill to help him take his 36' ketch with charter party to the Relighting of the Statue of Liberty and Operation sail. We left from City Island, NY. The East river was crowded with many boats. All bound for the big lady. At first Local CG auxiliary vessels kept things under control. But as they converged in the East River it changed to every man for him self . It worked out OK and there were no accidents. Some of the smaller tall ships were in the traffic as they had anchored in shallower waters near by. The skyscrapers towered over all as we approached the end of Manhattan. We slid by Governors Island to see the USS Kennedy and other Naval vessels, numerous police, USCG and auxiliary boats mingled thru the crowded harbor. It soon became apparent we would not get too close to this spectacular parade of tall ships. The best spots were taken and government water craft kept the mass of boats well away from the channel, but part of the fun was just to be there. Like the guy way back in the bleachers during a world series game . The energy of the event was enough. All aboard enjoyed this once in a lifetime happening, especially the evening fire works. Our anchor was down in 7' of water just to the SSE of the Green Lady. It was quite crowded. At the change of tide during slack water boats swung in every direction. It was uncontrolled and comical as vessels swung close, some bows to sterns, exchanged drinks and greetings. All had crew attend to friendly fending off with hands, boat hooks. Some boaters had cans in one hand and fending with the other.. Everybody kept their head and enjoyed the camaraderie the slack water generated. The wind and water flow settled down along with boats and spectators. as the darkness enveloped the scene. Mere words cannot describe the fire works. The Lady’s lighted torch made this event different. Right after the last rocket dimmed out, engines roared to life, and anchors weighed. Many leaving for home ports. There was a confusion of navigation lights going this way and that amid the many blinking lights emanating from the myriad of harbor buoys. Next day we weighed anchor for City Island. I never told Bill of my intention of sailing for Bermuda in a few days as he would think I was crazy.





Back to the present...

The departure for Bermuda

07/07/86 06:58 Sunny. After a hearty breakfast and one more check of the engine’s oil stick I cranked her up and with no fan fare cast off for Bermuda. The previous day I fully provisioned and notified the dock master I would be gone for a month or so to give him a chance to rent my slip to transients. I told family and a few friends of my intentions and that I’d call when in Bermuda. When clear of the Stamford breakwater I raised main and stay sail . This portion of the passage was to be motor sailing. It was imperative to get to the East River with a favorable current . I previously worked out the data to favor me all the way to Ambrose Light Tower. Underpowered “Shaula” could never cope with contrary currents the East River can generate. I devoured an already made sandwich under the Whitestone bridge. By 12:00 I was under the Triborough Bridge. And ominous Hellgate just ahead. There still wasn’t much wind as I slid thru the boil and swirls of this infamous site. It would not be so easy on my return weeks later In fact it would be downright harrowing and threatening. As I passed Pier 17 I saw a tall ship berthed there and on the opposite shore, in Brooklyn, the USS Iowa. Many vessels lingered at various slips, the sailors enjoying liberty in NYC.

Pier 17 East river NYC

Notice all the square riggers on both sides of the Bark. Just like in the old 19th century days. If you look real close there’s just a hint of the World Trade Center, appearing as a shade in the blue sky over the mizzen mast of the barque.

To be continued
Next at sea alone

JD
PS writing is not easy

__________________________________________________ ____________________________

[rufustr]

You're good at it, and the fact that it's hard is the reason so few people do it. Please keep it up.

[maxima302]

Damn, I just devoured this thread in no time at all! Great writing, and story!!

[Northernguy59]

Exellent reading while I have my morning cup of coffee looking at the 4' snow drifts in the yard and fields.

Thanks very much JD.

Dale

[Katherine]

I read the last installment yesterday. Please sir, can I have some more?

[ssor]

Mr. Dillon certainly writes well. I am glad to be here.

[rbj37]

Just found your thread. I love it. thank you, thank you.

[J. Dillon]

Thanks all. I sincerely appreciate the complimentary remarks. It helps keep me diving into my memory, digging it up, and posting here for all to enjoy. Chuck, no sharks either on land or sea but some curious porpoise.

Thanks again and back to the key board for another episode today.
JD

[J. Dillon]

07/06/86 14:39 My log book reads, “Streamed the taffrail log at buoy # 3 Ambrose channel, raised the jib and secured the engine, course 150 M.. Log reading 24. 1. Hot & humid wind SW at 4 kts”. I already had the main and stay sail up. Traffic in NY harbor is always busy and getting clear of it all, I had kept the engine on to maintain hull speed. Before the venture started I laid out the rhumb line all the way to Bermuda on a series of position plotting sheets. My scheme was to keep as close to this line as possible and plot my position obtained by whatever means available. I took a 17:50 sun sight.

Position plotting sheet 1

You’ll notice the diagonal dark rhumb line marked 137.7o T. from Ambrose Light Tower. I
intended to keep close to this line The tower is marked in and the rhumb line from it. The loran 17:30 plot. is also marked .The sun LOP determined at 17:50 is drawn in and comes about 1 mile from the loran plot I also used a more sophisticated plotting sheet printed by the Defense mapping agency # 970 when I neared Bermuda. Also on the sheet you will see the shipping lanes marked in. This was to alert me when I might be sighting some more heavy tonnage traffic Of course NY Harbor has many ships from containers, oil tankers , cruise, military ship in and out at all hours. By 20:00 the sun appeared as a golden ball setting in the haze to the west. The sea quiet .A few boats around and what looked like three yawls, one behind the other, turning more to the south. I suspected they were from the US Naval Academy as I had seen them on the forth participating in the Relighting ceremony & Op sail.
Ambrose blinked as I sat in the cockpit in the dark alone and finished up a shepherds pie my “transition lady” Janet made for me a couple of days ago.

Transition person and embarrassing moments

What’s a “transition lady” you may ask Or should it be “transition person”? Either will work This term could be applied to either gender. Def: An individual of opposite gender (usually) that is just a little down the road in navigating the divorce world and who takes you by the hand and helps you in the transition to the singles world. Janet was a gem eager for experimenting and trying new things and new life styles . She was deeply into meditation and the “New age” You both know instinctively that it will not be an permanent relationship. This freed things up a bit. One winter day we were meandering in a book shop in NYC. New age stuff dominated the shelves. We wandered down different aisles. My eye caught a book , “Karma Sutra”. I heard about it and was soon leafing the pages. “Art”. Wow! I spotted Janet down the isle and with book by my side and finger holding a particular page I crept up behind. Her brown hair draped over her shoulder and just touched her tan coat. She was deep into a book. I took the Karma Sutra from my side, opened the page, thrust it in front of her and said into her ear. “How would you like to try that position?” She turned. I felt darting eyes thrusting daggers into mine. It wasn’t Janet. From astern she fit the description exactly. I mumbled something like “Excuse me, sorry, I thought you were some one else”. I beat a hasty retreat out of the store before her boy friend or husband came after me. Later Janet and I had a good laugh . Now about that position?

The radar alarm went off. I was being scanned and jolted from this pleasant memory.
I took the radar detector into the cockpit and scanned the darkness with it. There wasn’t a light to be seen anywhere but the detector null said there was a vessel off the port bow. I got out the binoculars and looked in that direction. Sure enough I saw the lights indicating an inbound ship. Only the port side showed amid widely separated white lights. There was no danger of collision. I had tried the detector before but now it was really my lookout. I felt relieved. I adjusted the auto helm in the now 5kt SW wind, then flicked on “Not under command lights”, and went to sleep..

To be continued Bats and more memories

JD

[rbgarr]

'Not under command lights'... which ones are those and would they be used by anyone other than a singlehander? When the rudder is adrift or engine out, for example?

[clancy]

RULE 27:
VESSEL NOT UNDER COMMAND

[Paul Pless]

It wasn’t Janet.

Classic!!! That's the kinda goober move that only us younger guys are supposed to pull.

[John B]

LOL!

[J. Dillon]

Thanks Clancy for posting that . it saves a some explanation on my part.

Paul, There's no fool like an old fool. Age has no bearing on dumb mistakes.

07/08/86 01:00 Ship’s Log Book reads “Radar detector sounded, altered course to avoid motor vessel sighted off Stb bow. Came back to 150 mag at 01:40, taffrail log reads 72.8 . It was reassuring that my electronic lookout was working and made turning in easier. July eighth.... July eighth... Why does that date dwell in my mind? Back to sleep...... Up at 03:11 to answer nature’s call. Loran fix at 39o 48 19 N 73o12 12 W. Wind by estimate SW at 10 kts. Taffrail 87.6. Boat moving nicely in an easy sea.. Sleep? Back again to try, thinking, well, getting up periodically is guaranteed at 56 at least for me, an enlarging prostate is an built in wake up call. Maybe a blessing for this passage, but ashore a curse. Even with the auto helm steering, a course to Bermuda is not guaranteed. It will blindly follow wind shifts and when I again woke at 07:15, I was heading back to NY! I don’t think I put many miles in the wrong direction. The wind was now from the NW. I went out on deck, eased sheets and got her going SE before a 10 Kt. wind. My jib in these conditions was useless so I took it in, bagged it, and lashed it to the fore deck. Took a 07:59 sun sight. The work sheet shown might be of interest to some here. When plotted, the sun LOP was about 4 NM from the Loran fix. which was about 10 miles from the rhumb line.





The Bat & Bats

The sun was high enough to take a look around. A movement on the port side near the shrouds caught my eye. It was grey and struggled a bit. Another rat I thought? Then it became clear. Somehow a bat had became entangled in the now slack jib sheets. I moved a bit closer and it seemed enraged. With mouth and wings opened it threatened any closer movement on my part. It was a stand off, but I could not tolerate sharing a jib sheet with him for the rest of the passage. Someone had to go and it wasn’t me. Who knows what malady he might be carrying. I flicked the jib sheet a few times hoping a catapult launch would get him airborne back to shore many miles away. Sadly, he landed in my wake to be seen no more. It got me thinking. I’ve seen lots of birds land on seagoing ships and boats . They get storm blown out to sea and land at the first solid looking surface. But a bat on my boat? Come to think of it in my stern light glow I had seen bugs flitting around and maybe a moth or two the previous evening. This attracted the bat I assume, but how he got to my port shrouds and entwined in a jib sheet God only knows. I had seen bats at sea back in my Navy days aboard the USS Coral Sea . We were heading for the Med a few days out of Norfolk, Va . My hangout was on the fantail when not on duty. The aviation engine shop was near there in hanger bay 4. At dusk you’d see a bunch of bats flying around. I don’t know why but there they were flitting here and there looking for a meal as the ship was underway doing 25kts bound for the Straights of Gibraltar. on July 8th.. JULY 8th 1948. Now I remember, that’s the day I signed up in the US Navy 38 years ago today, attracted by the recruit posters with enticing words like FUN, TRAVEL, ADVENTURE. Yes, I remember my first real sailing experience...

Next yachting in the Med and wooden boat building aboard an aircraft carrier.


JD

[few3]

Excellent thread!!

[Paul Pless]

Next yachting in the Med and wooden boat building aboard an aircraft carrier.

Another great hook. Really enjoy the photos too, and the artwork. Mr. Dillon your a man of many talents.

[J. Dillon]

Back in time now.......1950..... darkness..... pumping a bilge aboard a sailing whale boat, her painter secured to a boat boom jutting out from the port quarter of anchored aircraft carrier. It was 02:00. Definitely slowing down. Forty strokes at midnight. Twenty eight strokes now, and the pump is sucking air. What a day. I’m still excited. Did it really happen to me, a thrilling rail down beat through the azure blue Mediterranean with the sun hovering over the green hills of Sardina? Just like in the boating magazines. Overhead the steady hum of carrier’s machinery and water oozing back into the bilge brings me back to reality- clearing the pump of debris. While waiting for a sizeable amount of water to pump, I thought back to how it started on board the USS Coral Sea fitting out for a Mediterranean deployment. Curiosity was aroused amongst my shipmates and myself as to why in Hanger Bay 4, lashed down amongst lethal jet air craft, there was a humble wooden sailboat. Our questions went unanswered until a week at sea. In the “Plan of the day” was a small note. “All those interested in forming a boat club meet in the ship’s library at 19:30". That was all I needed . A group of men were at the table reading and writing letters when I arrived at the library. In the corner were two expectant faces. I deduced them to be my fellow “yachtsmen”. On inquiring, I found them to be Don & Chuck, and just as puzzled as I was.

Prelude to Fun

In a few minutes an officer arrived and introduced himself as “Commander Stanley”, our new supply officer. He outlined his plans. The 32' ketch rigged whale boat was to be the nucleus of our club with the addition of some 11' penguin class cat boats in kit form when our membership grew. He was to be the officer representative. With other members we were to elect Commodore and vice commodore. He also pointed out that the boat needed a great deal of work. That was my first prelude to the “fun of boating”. Don and I did a survey on the condition of the boat and all the materials necessary to make her “Bristol Fashion” again. The hull appeared sound but needed the usual re-caulking, sanding and painting on a boat long out of her element. Being young, enthusiastic, and persevering, we somehow managed to turn out a reasonable shipshape job for a group of amateurs. The varnished gunwales gleamed over the smooth business-like grey topsides. The sails were mended and new sheets rove through reconditioned blocks. On September 19th, 1950, the carrier passed through the straits of Gibraltar and three days later dropped the hook in Aranci Bay, Sardinia. The bay was surrounded by rolling green hills that rose abruptly from the indigo sea. The water was so clear you could see fish playing around the ship’s anchor chain.

At 16:00 members of the boat club were to put the ketch over via the flight deck crane. Uniform of the day was undress whites. Suddenly the club doubled its membership with four new recruits.

With an audience

With the skipper at the tiller and all six oars manned, we blundered about a quarter mile to leeward of the ship to commence the comedy for the ship company manning the rails. After fumbling with the oars at Commander Stanley’s order, “Boat oars!” we managed to bring them in with no more to-do than knocking off the skippers cap, which was met with a great roar from the ship. Now the muddle called the rig in the center of our craft was to be tackled. The theory was to place the mast fore and aft across the thwarts and position a hinged device on top of its opposite member on the thwart. When this lined up, a pin was to be inserted in the hinge effectively connecting the mast to the seat at which time two crew members were to raise the stick. This went surprisingly smoothly considering some of us were frantically bailing and not caring which way the water flew. Amid our own confusion the Commander stood calmly by, patient and paternal, over-seeing this uniformed chaos, knowing full well that Navy tradition would prevail in the end. The excitement continued but we were more serious now seeing that we were making progress and the long worked for sail was soon to begin. Feverishly the main was bent on with not too much profanity. Somehow we were functioning as a team. At last the sails climbed the mast.

Glorious moment

The evening breeze held steady at about ten knots sending crackling ripples through our luffing canvas. The ship was far off now but we could still hear our cheering section. Commander Stanley
lowered the centerboard, ordered the jib backed, the helm up, the sheets trimmed and slid off on the port tack. Those first glorious moments under sail one never forgets. That lovely ketch was anxious to go, to prove herself after such a long exile in some forgotten naval boat yard. Like new life breathed into her she came alive and leaned down to her business: sailing. She was giving her greenhorn crew its first rail down breeze. Bubbling water 5" away passing at 6 knots,
spray gently hitting you in the face gives a sailor a sense of intimacy with the sea that a 45' high flight deck steaming at 30 plus knots can never do. Her gleaming gunwale inched closer to the hissing foaming Mediterranean as our freeboard diminished. The added strain of our wind stressed hull accelerated the leak. We could afford to take only momentary glimpses of the passing scene as all hands bailed with white hats. Soon the mighty bulk of the Coral Sea loomed above us. Passing close by the deck edge elevator, cheers rang out from the chow line. We now were about to learn another lesson— namely, the boom is to be avoided at all costs when the skipper shouts, “Ready about, helms a lee.” Bearing off on the starboard tack was accomplished with swearing and oaths as several members of our stalwart crew picked themselves up from the floorboards to trim the flogging jib sheet. By now the chow line was in hysterics laughing at our ineptness. We continued past the ship making good headway. Finally gaining on the leak, we had time to relax light up and enjoy ourselves. The wind gradually diminished and by sunset dropped completely. You would be surprised how enjoyable a four mile row back to the ship can be in your own windjammer.

We took turns rowing, bailing, singing. It was well after sundown when we got back to the ship, tired and hungry. We secured the ketch to the after port boat boom and set bailing watches for the night. I was lucky enough to draw the mid watch, but I didn’t care - It was the kind of day I would never forget...

Thats me wading alongside our whale boat yacht as the skipper bails.

[J. Dillon]

We continued to sail the whale boat at various ports and evening calms rowing her back to the ship became routine. Commander Stanley especially enjoyed our boat handling prowess. On one occasion after a dying breeze we rowed up to the USS De Moines, a cruiser anchored off Nice, France We all stroked together and at the order of “Up oars”, we held them in erect position with blades fore and aft and at “Boat oars” we neatly stowed the sweeps, Our skipper steered our whale boat up to the accommodation ladder, boarded the cruiser and disappeared. Later he complimented us on our oarsmanship as he also received accolades while aboard. On other occasions I remember tying the whale boat to a quay in Villefranche France. We draped a tarp across the boom and set liberty watches from our own little yacht. I vividly remember inviting French sailors aboard., and sharing wine and cheese they brought aboard. I broke out my harmonica and did a rendition of La Marseillaise". They stood up , saluted and after a good bit of sailor comradery, some more wine and just a little more they left.

After Korea started the whale boat went back to navy shipyards somewhere, again neglected, and probably finished her days to rot away, but who knows? She sure did have a glorious sailing time in the Med. Next, a stateside rearmament, radar refit, New air group and then back to the Med again. This time Commander Stanley managed to get aboard three Penguin class 11' sailing dinghies in kit form . He had some pull even during war time When off duty we managed to assemble two of them on the mess deck. This was my first experience at boat building Our usual miserable mess deck master at arms BT 1 Ryan even took an interest . We were on his turf. He didn’t mind wood shavings and glue droppings falling on his deck as long as we cleaned up after.. Ryan was relieved from some of the boredom of his usual duties. We were rank amateurs at this wooden boat building in a steel navy. Aboard ship back in the 50's all the ship boats were made of wood and it was interesting to see them being maintained by the boat crews . On one occasion during heavy weather ( a hurricane) some of the 35' & 50' boats snapped their wire securing cables to roll into aircraft engines stored in great sealed cans. Colliding and breaking their cables as well. It was chaos on the hanger deck with a 45,000 ton carrier rolling and pitching in the blow . Boats were stove in, requiring re planking. Later it was interesting seeing them repaired on the hanger deck. Ancient caulking mallets rang out almost drowned out by 20th century aircraft landing on the deck above..The damage control rates did the repairs and took no interest in we amateurs struggling later in off hours to get a plywood dinghy’s together on the mess deck. Little by little we managed to get two penguins together and rather decent looking as well. Soon we had them over and sailing during port calls when off duty. On one occasion In Toronto Bay, Italy, I and a ship mate Ed were sailing in blowing winds . I didn’t react fast enough in a gust and found myself swimming next to the dinghy. My first but not my last capsizing

Next
Gulf stream squalls
Back aboard Shaula

[DavidS]

A couple of years ago I read a book about a guy who built a sailboat and sailed with his wife from South Carolina up the Intracoastal Waterway to Maine and back. It was a good read. I had actually found it in WoodenBoat magazine in the list of new books, reviewed books, etc. Don't remember the title but it should be easy to find.

JD, your writing is even better. Please compile this into a book, novel, or whatever.

My grandfather was in the Navy in WWII and served until the late '50s / early '60s. He had a lot of great stories too but didn't do much with smaller boats or sailboats, unfortunately.

Regards,
Dave

Thistle #3813
Rascal runabout in progress

[rufustr]

Listened the other day to an interview with a woman who teaches people to write short stories.
She was saying that writing down memories has the effect of bringing other memories to the surface.
I hope that is the way it is for you JD and that we have lots more to look forward to.

[lannig]

Thanks JD !! I get my dose
Seems we start a consensus for you to write a book

Lannig
www.mavourneen-mary.com

[J. Dillon]

David and others I appreciate your kind words and comments. I intend to see this to the end for a lot of reasons. Even though difficult it is a good exercise in recapturing old memories and maybe my great grandchildren might get a kick out of it. I'd prefer they have their own adventures to experience.

Yes Rufustr recalling stuff is infectious It does dust off old shelves we'd forgotten about. I'm glad Paul gave me a nudge.

Some more fixes later.

JD

[Paul Pless]

Mr Dillon, despite your protestations on the difficulty of writing, yours is really good, and getting better. I especially enjoyed the whaleboat episode. You captured what was exciting about a first boat and a first sail very well.

thanks

Paul

[J. Dillon]

Back Aboard Shaula

07/08/86 08:52 Tried to take a nap. The boat was rolling heavily as the wind had died but a ground swell prevailed. The slatting of the boom and sails was quite jolting. Slam bang, slam bang, slam bang. Even sheeting in tight it became quite disconcerting. To keep the battery charged I ran the engine 1 hour each day. That would provide reasonable brightness for my nav lights.

The radar alarm sounded and there off the stb. quarter was a ship outbound. I was concerned about the blip I gave on his radar. I had raised an additional reflector for reassurance. I hailed him on CH 13 and inquired as to it’s signal. He replied that he was the “Gypsum King” and reported I gave a good signal, and asked “Where are you bound?” “Bermuda”, I replied. “Good sailing”, he answered. That was the last time I had any communication with any vessel I signaled . They were all mute when hailed. Probably all foreign crewed with little English spoken.

I

My hang out on the cushion for naps. Notice the folding dinghy lashed to the railing

07/08/86 12 :00 No traditional noon sight. I just noted in the ship’s log the loran position as 39o 24 78 N 72o35 67 W. Still no wind and continued heavy rolling. For me in these conditions a noon sight was impossible. In planning this passage I was determined to get as much sleep as possible by napping whenever I could as conditions permitted. But trying to sleep with this bone jolting rolling defied any attempt at rest. All I could manage was hanging on and hope my fillings stayed in place. I wedged myself in the cockpit against the cabin and tried to doze with an occasional glance at the wide angle mirror I had installed a on the wind vane.
07/08/86 15:11 Took a sun sight and plotted a line of position It was 7 NM from my Loran fix. I attributed the distance due to the rolling which had diminished accurate sextant work. The plot also revealed I was 15 miles from the rhumb line . This is OK I thought, as it took me out of the course of cruise ships Bermuda/NYC bound . Last year on Bill’s ketch we knew when we were near the rhumb line by sighting occasional styrofoam cups thrown over the side from cruise ships’ passengers. But with 5 people aboard sighting these vessels was not a problem. .

15:44 From the ship’s log: Just struck a large timber in the water. Hope there isn’t any damage to the prop. Even at this distance from shore, things get in the way. I doubt that even an attentive lookout would have see this one coming.

07/08/86 18:41 Just some traces of ice in the box. Made a stew from fresh vegetables. For meat, some kosher hot dogs cut up . The pressure cooker is a great invention and this stew will last for three days. All is contained in the pot and even if it falls off the stove you still have a meal.

07/08/86 19:35 Wind coming up from the SW at 5 kts and increasing. Taff rail log reading 162 S miles. Since my log reads in statute miles I had to convert to NM so that is 141 NM. The rolling stopped and we’re moving again.. Raised the jib now that we have wind to fill her. Double checked. the auto helm. Course 138 T. Turned on radar detector, looked around, and took a nap. Awoke in about two hours to answer natures call, then scanned the horizon. There was no chance to take a sight on Jupiter as it was a bit hazy. We were moving I guess at about 6 kts. and the loran confirmed this speed within a few 10ths. Tending things does occupy one’s time, reefing, sail trim, cooking, but you do have time to think about the past and what lies ahead. I brought along two guns. Both rifles, one a single shot 22 and the other a 32 Winchester lever action. That stayed in its case but the 22 I’d use to plink. I’d get an empty bottle, partially fill it, then throw it as far fwd as I could manage. Then I’d pick up the loaded rifle, cock it and blast away. Only one shot per bottle. Out of about 50 shots I did manage to hit one bottle. Not bad, I thought, but pure luck . Hitting a wake tossed bottle from a moving rolling pitching boat got to be whim of Lady Luck.. Maybe she was with me




Shown here is a portion of a pilot chart. A fun read. One could pour over it for hours to see the amassed wealth of information collected by mariners during years of reporting and observing. For those not familiar, a study of the wind rose is worth a glance. Those green curved arrows represent the flow and velocity of the Gulf stream, the explanation of which is also shown. At this time of year a passage to Bermuda from NY the wind should be from the SW 38% at force 4. The course to Bermuda is roughly SE. This gives a nice beam wind. Of course this is only an average and no way carved in stone. For me, so far, Lady luck was not smiling but not frowning either. A NW wind which I had been having 50% of the time still pushed me to Bermuda but promoted rolling. But all in all, OK, as no gales so far. Therefore, don’t push it Jack.

I now estimate I’m in the gulf stream. or close. It meanders all the time and the racing yachts love to keep track of its meanders via satellite to get into a favorable swirl or back eddy, but I have no such luxury aboard. I have to take it as it comes. For some the stream has a fearsome reputation. as depicted by Winslow Homer and other artists. A dismasted sloop with forlorn sailor pondering his fate as he eyes the sharks surrounding the boat is familiar to all. The stars close to the horizon were starting to diminish I reduced sail before turning in at 23:30 by taking in the jib and running up a storm jib. I could feel the boat moving along and the loran showed 6.5 kts.

07/09/86 04:02 Waves slamming against the hull inches from my ear wake me up. We’re well heeled over, rain is blasting the deck and I can hear thunder. It’s humid as hell. I put on my foul weather jacket, the hell with the pants. As I start to go on deck to snap on the harness, a crack of thunder crashes as lightening illuminates the auto helm and the churning sea behind . Gaining the deck I hook up to the jack line and moved fwd. to lower the jib hastily shoving it under a pre rigged system of shock cords stretched across the fore deck to take care of situations like this..The stay sail is OK. Now the main sail. I lowered, and thought 1st or second reef? Second, I decided , as I tied in the points, no telling how long this will last. I’m not racing. The wind shrieked through the rigging with a bit of a tattering sound, something was loose. Back in the cockpit I eyed the compass . More or less the same, still heading in the right direction. The boat relieved, straightened up a bit. Now I ducked below under my midget dodger and beheld the wild scene about me. Being in a small boat alone in the dark, and lightening stabbing the water in all directions, with seas crashing against your boat does put fear in one, me included. Witnessing the awesome power of nature is humbling. I could see fwd. as the little dodger had a window. Multiple crashes of thunder seemed to echo all around. From what, I thought? The boat would reel from higher gusts but still forged on for Bermuda just about in the right direction. I felt like I was in the middle of a amphitheater the sound thunder all around focusing on my little 27' boat crashing thru the waves. Thor hurling bolts at me, missing, but coming close. Some with multiple streaks going across up and down illuminating the scene like a flare on a battlefield. My wake creamed behind me and when on a crest, a sliver of light reflected off the taunt taffrail log line. It was exhilarating. The wind vane turned back and forth abruptly dragging the tiller along as gusts hit from different directions. Rain continued to pelt but rain like you never saw before. I felt it could beat your brain out. It was cold, missing the warmth of a shower turned up. The two drains in the cockpit were on the point of being overwhelmed.. The leeward one full, its gurgling sound diminished, while the higher one drained just barely keeping the cockpit empty. . I should have realized this was going to happen. The NW breeze was bringing cooler air over the Gulf Stream in which I was now sailing. The two air masses don’t get along and I was in the midst of the battle. I recalled the low stars blotting out before turning in. I had ignored its warning. Gradually the wind diminished, waves subsided and rain tapered off. The squall passed. Should I make all sail? It’s almost day light . I’ll get some much needed sleep...reef shaking out later. I dosed off.

Next a Sobering thought

[Figment]

Good stuff, JD.