“A Real Fungi”

A young mushroom went off to a community dance and as usual the guys were lined up on one side of the community hall and the girls on the other.  The mushroom all excited for the opportunity to dance spies a good-looking red hot radish on the other side of the room and rushes over.  He eagerly invites the radish to dance.  The radish scoffs at him "get out of here I do not want to dance with any mushroom".  The mushroom bows his head in disappointment and returns to the "guys" side of the hall.  The mushroom not to be put off sees a rather hot looking tall a shapely carrot directly across from him.  He figures he will give it his best shot to get out on the dance floor.  Once again he scurries across the room and invites the carrot to dance with his hand extended.  Just as before the carrot debunks him with "get out of here I do not want to dance with any mushroom".  Sadly he mopes back across the floor and in a conversation with the guys he exclaims, "I can't understand why no one will dance with me, I am a “REAL FUNGI"

Fiberglass 101

Admiral Hun had laid down the law about getting on with fixing the hole in the port side of the cabin of our “new to us” m/v Traveling Star.  The hole was caused by hurricane IKE in 2008 when m/v Reverie (the original name) washed ashore.  A piling had entered the side of the cabin crushing the original settee.

She said that I had to at least get the cabin of the boat “weather tight” before our June 2009 down coast trip.  She said the boat did not have to be pretty for the trip, but it did have to be weather tight. I had considered the boat “weather tight” when I screwed a ¼” piece of plywood over the six foot hole in the side of the cabin.  It was a difference of opinion and I never had a chance of winning. 

Fiberglass is not in my resume of talents.  As a matter of fact just about any experience with fiberglass has resulted in poor results and disappointment.  My lack of desire to do the fiberglass repair has only been overcome by the “CBS” (Cheap Bastard Sailor) in me.  There is no way in hell I am going to pay big bucks for a shipyard to fix this hole in the side of the cabin big enough to step through.  Just the thought of paying a shipyard $85 / hour gives me “swimmers in the head” (and wallet). 

I always spend a lot of time thinking about a big undertaking before I start.  Pondering is sort of my foreplay to a big project. Admiral Hun will be the first to tell you that if I ponder a task long enough, the task will usually end with a satisfactory result.   I pondered the fiberglass repairs to the cabin for about five (5) months.  Admiral Hun was patient while I worked on the tasks of my choice, mostly mechanical and electrical improvements, this came to an abrupt halt.  Admiral Hun had decided that pondering time is over and repair time was to begin.  It was not like I had not been working on the fiberglass repairs mentally. It was just that I had been pondering fiberglass repairs and gathering information on how to actually do the repairs.  It is a good thing that I had gathered enough info on fiberglass repairs to make an attempt.

Earlier in the year I had visited with a dock neighbor of mine “Compadre Bob” who is a master of fiberglass repairs.  Compadre Bob owned and operated a large Hatteras that he has redesigned through the years with extensive fiberglass modifications.  When we arrived in the marina he looked at the hole in the side of the cabin and his response was “Sweet!” he got all excited and assured me that it was only fiberglass and the large hole was “No problem”. 

He gave me a list of materials to purchase and some general ideas on how to make the repairs.  In preparation of the actual repairs to the side of the cabin I planned to hone my fiberglass skills.  I would build a simple project, just for practice.  I decided that I would manufacture an all fiberglass shelf for my new diaphragm bilge pump to sit on in the engine room.  The shelf need to be approximately 7” x 9” with a 4” flange to attach it to the bulkhead.  Compadre Bob had told me magical stories of things like mold release wax, stitch matt cloth, wax paper, and 6 mil plastic.  Armed with limited information and a gallon of fiberglass resin and some leftover cloth from previous attempts I decided to give it my best shot. 

I nailed two boards together at a 90-degree angle (so I thought) in order to form a mold.  I did not have any wax paper or 6 mil plastic so I substituted some Tyvek house wrap (left over from the house construction) and some “press and seal” Saran Wrap (it was completely logical at the time).  I precut my stitch matt cloth to the desired size pre resin mixing.  Precutting was a lesson that I had learned years earlier in previous unsuccessful attempts. I fabricated a small tray out of aluminum foil large enough to lay the fiberglass cloth in while I applied the resin.  I carefully measured out the desired 6 oz. of resin into a paper cup and proceeded to add the 11 drops per ounce of hardener (a specification I got off the internet).  After mixing thoroughly I poured the resin over the cloth.  The 6 oz of resin was not enough to soak the cloth properly.  I hurriedly poured an additional 6 oz of resin in the already sticky paper cup.  I applied the required 66 drops and once again thoroughly mixed and applied the resin.  Using gloved hands I lifted the resin soaked cloth from the homemade foil tray on to the Tyvek covered mold.  With the first of four layers in place it was time to repeat the process.  This time rather than pouring 6 oz to begin with I poured out 12 oz of resin.  Two times 66 equals what? It is really hard to do any type of math while you are covered in sticky resin.  In a panic I fell back on the old standby method of hardener application, more is better.  I gave the container of hardener a random squirt, mixed it up and poured it on to the fiberglass cloth waiting in the foil tray.  I repeated this cycle two more times.  By the time I had the fourth layer was in place the pile of fiberglass resin and cloth was beginning to smoke.  In an effort to dress up the surface of the project I decided to change gloves, tear off a piece of Saran Wrap, and place it on the top of the smoking mass and smooth it out.  As the project hardened I relaxed and pictured this really great very substantial shelf for my new diaphragm bilge pump.  I poured copious amounts of acetone on a rag and began to clean off the resin residue from my upper body and head.  I can really sling some resin when I am in the mood.  Meanwhile I realize that a great portion of the resin had oozed off the project, over the workbench and on to the plywood floor of the workshop.  By this time I was no longer liquid, it was semi hard and sticky.  In true (what the Admiral would call) “Guy” fashion decided that it would be easier to clean up the mess at a later date when it was fully hardened.   I turned off the shop lights letting my first adventure in fiberglass fabrication harden as I went off to the house to shower. 

The following day I rushed home after work to release my project from the “mold”.  The fiberglass project had cooled to room temperature by the time of my return.  I lifted the project from the base and the Tyvek came with it.  Thinking that this was normal I attempted to peel the Tyvek off the backside of the shelf unit only to end up with white fuzzy stringy residue covering more than 50% of the project.  Undaunted I attempted to remove the “Press and Seal” Cling Wrap from the side that I had decided needed smoothing.  The Cling Wrap had actually melted to my project making it almost impossible to remove.  The end result was another fiberglass disappointment.  As a matter of fact the project was so ugly I made sure that it was completely hidden in a black plastic bag before throwing it away. 

Lessons learned!

No matter what do not panic and add more hardener that recommended.

Do not continue to apply more resin to the project if the temperature is elevated or the resin is thickening. 

Gather all the information you can on how to execute fiberglass work properly and then get someone else to do it.

Big Helen

Big Helen

 

I worked at ARCO Oil and Gas Company in Sabine Pass, Texas as an Expeditor in the 1980’s.  The Expeditor is a person who both receives shipments and initiates shipments of all types of materials to and from the Sabine Shore Base.  If it was any type of material, big or small, it went through me, the Expeditor.  The modern day Expeditor’s job is the equivalent to that of a 1700’s Spanish monk manning the gangplank of a sailing vessel loading goods.  When I was the Expeditor (monk) at ARCO I hand-wrote everything that got loaded onto the boat, truck, or helicopter on a bill of lading for each shipment. As the sole Sabine Shore Base Expeditor, I either received or initiated about 1900 shipments per month. 

 

The Sabine Shore Base was made up of several notable characters, one of which was a lady from the second floor known as “Big Helen”.  I am not altogether sure what Big Helen’s official title was, but from my point of view she ruled the second floor of the building, that floor being mostly dedicated to “Engineering”.

 

I met “Big Helen” on the first day of my employment with ARCO Oil and Gas.  I needed an ink pen so that I could begin logging the components of shipments to each of the offshore oil platforms onto the bills of lading.  I was told that Helen was in charge of all office supplies, so as a new hire I marched right upstairs with full expectations of all my office supply needs being met!  I arrived at Helen’s desk, which was central to the second floor, and noted the padlocked double door steel storage locker directly behind her. 

 

Helen (known as “Big Helen” downstairs) was a 350-pound business-dressed woman that sat behind her desk with the receptive scowl of a prison warden.  I politely introduced myself as the new Expeditor and explained that I needed an ink pen to complete my assigned duties.  She asked me if I had an empty or nonworking pen to turn in.  I know for certain that I must have had a puzzled look on my face as she continued to explain to me that it was “company policy” to not issue any ink pens without receiving the old one in trade!  I proceeded to explain to her that I was a new employee and was never issued an ink pen.  She proceeded to tell me that she did not care about my problems!  No old pen to trade in, no new pen for me!

 

With my head hung low I returned downstairs to my desk empty-handed.  Duke Nesgoda, the ever present prankster-dispatcher, was in my office to greet me upon my return.  “Did Big Helen fix you up with your supplies?” he kibitzed.   He already knew what the result would be before he sent me up there for my supplies.  He just laughed, and then loaned me an ink pen that I could use until I was able to get one of my own from home.  

 

Previously I mentioned that all material shipped either to or from the ARCO Shore Base went through me the Expeditor.  As the Expeditor, I was often the target of bribery (known to some as “Baksheesh”) from the trucking companies.  The truck drivers would often bring pens, pads, cakes, cookies; you name it…, they gave it to me trying to influence my choice of trucking companies.

One fateful morning I arrived at my office at the usual time of 6:00 a.m.  In the middle of my desk sat a large Hershey chocolate bar box.  Upon inspection I found the newly arrived box contained about a dozen homemade chocolate cupcakes.  I paused for a moment and thought: “how thoughtful was that of someone to leave these for me?” Not bothering to look for the usual business card attached, I stuffed the larger portion of a cupcake into my face.   Still trying to choke down my first bite, I picked up the box and gestured to Duke the dispatcher to see if he would like to partake in the bounty.  Duke took two!

 

It was just a typical morning at the ARCO Sabine Shore Base!  As usual, David “Dave Boy” Peltier, the yard foreman, came in the office to get a feel for how the day was going to shape up and have some coffee.  Not far behind Dave Boy came Jimmy “Gimme” Johnson, the crane operator, looking for coffee as well.  Needless to say the dozen cupcakes were disappearing at a fast rate.  We were down to just a few cupcakes when Bill Yeadon, the manager of the Materials Department, came by and picked up one on his way to his office next door.  It was just a typical day in the life of the ARCO Oil and Gas Expeditor.

 

Shortly after 8:00 a.m. I received a call from Helen inquiring about a package I may have received for her from one of the production platforms working offshore.  Still holding the phone to my ear I leaned over and shouted to Duke: “Have you seen any packages for Helen?”  Duke, on the phone with one of the company oil platforms, shouts back “nothing here”.  I relayed that message to Helen, letting her know that I would keep an eye out for anything tagged for her. 

 

The morning continued on in a normal fashion until I received a second call from Helen inquiring about the elusive package.  Once again I queried Duke about any arriving packages and the response was the same: “still nothing here”.  I again relayed the information to Helen and continued on with my daily duties, not knowing that Big Helen was about to place a phone call to the production platform.

 

My phone rang again a few minutes later and I was Helen for a third time.  This time her question was more on point than previously.  She asked: “Have you seen a box of cupcakes that High Island 467 sent me?”  My heart stopped! I glanced down at the box to see the last remaining cupcake sitting alone in the once-full box.  I responded: “No sign of it here” and hung up!  In my mind there was only one thing I could do at this point.  I ate the last cupcake in two big gulps and put the box in the trash! 

 

The next person to come into my office was Bill Yeadon, the manager of the Materials Department.  He came in and said that he had just gotten a call from Big Helen about some cupcakes delivered from a rig for her and wanted to know what was going on.  There was nothing left for me to do but come clean.  I wiped the chocolate frosting from the corner of my mouth as I confessed to Bill.  I said: “Bill you know that cupcake you had this morning when you came in?  Well, that was one of them.”  Bill, looking down at the floor, mumbled something like: “There is going to be hell to pay”.  Bill disappeared down the hall and up the back staircase to the second floor to break the news to Helen. 

 

It could not have been more than two minutes after Bill had left my office to break the bad news to Helen I heard a huge commotion going on upstairs!  The noise was caused by all of the engineers from upstairs scrambling down the front and back stairways as if the building was on fire! The only question on their minds was: “Who pissed off Big Helen?”

 

For weeks after that I was the most unpopular guy on the shore base.  As a result of me (and other guilty parties…) eating food that was intended for someone else, Charlie Woods, the shore base manager, banned any and all food from being brought in from offshore for shore base consumption.  The only reason that I was ever redeemed for my errors was that eventually people went back to their old ways and the rigs started sending food into the shore base personnel.  All was forgiven, but Big Helen never forgot!

 

 

Laundrynaut (repost from October 2010)

Laundrynaut

 

Preface:

The day I turned 16 years old and I got the keys to my $100 wonder (it was a wonder that the thing ran at all).  The $100 wonder was a well used and worn out 1956 4 door Chevrolet Bellaire, also known as the “Green Apple”.  The “Green Apple” was aptly named for its verde hue of “GT Green” (also known as Goose Turd Green).  The Green Apple was my passport to an almost incurable case of wanderlust.  By the time I graduated high school, my best friend Roy Henslee and I camped all of east Texas, western Louisiana, and some of southern Arkansas.  There is nothing like a good road trip. 

 

 

I was talking to a couple of my young co-workers and the conversation reminded me of some of the odd things I have done in my past.  I asked my two (2) young co-workers “How many of us in this room are Laundrynauts?”  I found myself the only one in the room with his hand extended.  Not only were Andy and Coy not Laundrynauts but they actually had never heard the term.  I recounted a road trip to Deep East Texas not long after turning 16 years old.  We were camping in a Corp of Engineers park named Magnolia Ridge between Woodville and Jasper and just north of Town Bluff Texas.  The only reason that we were camping at Magnolia Ridge was that the State of Texas would not allow us to camp in Martin Dies State Park since we were all under 18 years of age.  It was no doubt a dull evening around the campfire when Roy begins to talk about becoming a Laundrynaut.  He had heard that if you make three (3) consecutive rounds in a commercial clothes dryer you get to attach Laundynaut to your personal list of accomplishments.  The reader must realize that man had not walked on the moon at this time.  On this particular road trip there were three (3) of us, Roy Henslee, Ricky Holmes, and myself.  Since Roy did not have this accomplishment attached to his resume the vote was unanimous.  We jumped into the Green Apple (aka 1956 4 door Chevy) and headed to town.  Calling the location that I became a Laundynaut a town would be a stretch of the truth.  Town in the case was several old and some abandon buildings on a farm to market road north of Town Bluff Texas.  One of operating buildings was a washateria.  The procedure for becoming an official Laundynaut was to climb into a commercial clothes dryer while your buddy stood outside with the door open (safety first) and held down door button simulating the door being shut.  Your buddy places a dime in the coin slot and turns the knob and activating the clothes dryer.  Ricky was first to “blast off”.  Ricky was the tallest of the group at around 6’-0” he went in to the dryer head first as Roy and I pushed his lower extremities into the dryer drum.  I am sure that Ricky had the very same look on his face that Chuck Yeager had when he nodded his head indicating ”ready” in the launch of the experimental rocket X-15.  Roy dropped the dime into the slot, turned the knob placing the dime into the cash box, and quickly pushed the button.  Ricky braced for take off quickly made a successful three (3) round orbit.  I was next up for the honors.  We removed the dizzy and disoriented Ricky and I climbed in with the help of my “buddies”.  Roy, not wanting to waste any of the prepaid dryer time, hastily pushed the launch button again.  The only problem with that was that I did not get a chance to give one of those Chuck Yeager / cowboy up  / I am ready nods.  I was just launched when I was not actually in the launch position resulting in me falling from the top of the drum to the bottom of the drum with each cycle just like wet laundry.  I successfully made the required three (3) rounds of orbit but was pretty beat up and bruised from falling in the drum as it rotated.  Falling and hitting the drum was not nearly as painful as those flat bars that help agitate the drying clothes. I exited the capsule a little on the mushy side but still proud of my accomplishment.  Roy, learning from previous launches, quickly entered the dryer drum and assumed the launch position, bracing himself between the dryer drum and flat bar agitators.  I reached for the launch button as quickly as possible to return the favor of an unprepared launch to Roy, but he was way to fast for me still whirling from my orbits.  Roy made his entry into the roles of Laundrynauts unscathed although by the time his fligt took place the capsule (dryer drum) was beginning to heat up. 

 

Epilogue:

This is just one of thousands of great (great?) memories of my past.  Imagine of having an evening of fun in town for just a dime.  Reflecting back a helmet would have been a nice addition. 

 

 

Wayne (Shifty) Mulloy, Physician, Lawyer, and TMCA “Bad Boy”

Admiral Hun, her step mother Jean, and I were in Galveston Texas on an Easter weekend boat cruise. We were participating in the Texas Mariners Cruising Association (TMCA) cruise to Moody Gardens Marina.  The social director of the cruise had made arrangements for the group to have dinner at Saltwater Grill on Post Office street in the Strand District.  The social director also had made arrangements for Moody Gardens to provide the dock to door and return transportation in one of their shuttle buses.  Donning white and pink Easter Bunny ears we embarked on an evening on the town.  

 

The group meal, which usually has a tendency to run long because of the size of the group, went exceptionally well this particular evening.  We found ourselves with additional time left before the Moody Gardens shuttle was scheduled to pick us up and return us to the marina.  The Admiral, Jean, Doc Mulloy, Monica Mulloy and myself found ourselves on the street with time to spare.  Doc suggested that we all go down to the Tremont House Hotel for a nightcap.  He said that he knew the piano player down there named Omar.  Doc boasted that he guaranteed that Omar, a talented musician would play the song “Three Coins In The Fountain” upon the sight of Doc.  Doc related to us that ever since he put a rather large gratuitous tip in Omar’s tip jar it was a sure bet that Omar would come through with the song as he had so many times before.  We all agreed on the idea of an after dinner drink and scurried down Post Office street and down three blocks like a covey of quail.  We arrived at the entrance of the grand hotel that was housed in a historic 1879 Victorian building, complete with a horse drawn tourist carriage out front.  The antique vehicle was the fancy type with a floral and garland decorated carriage, decorated horse, and oil burning lanterns on each corner, which are so common in the Strand District of Galveston. 

 

I held the entry door for the other revelers.  Being last in line gave me the opportunity to negotiate the few steps up into the grand foyer and admire the beautifully appointed foyer with fine furniture and detailed marble floor.  Just as Doc had predicted there was a piano straight ahead, but it was not Omar playing.  The scene seems almost surreal to me as I recall it.  The piano player was seated at the piano facing the entry door and a very attractive young lady, to his left, also faced the entryway. She was attempting to sing whatever tune it was he was playing, and an old man sitting in a single easy chair to the girls’ left intently listening to the slightly off key singing.  I caught up with the group just as Doc whispered, “That is George Mitchell over there, he owns the hotel”, looking at the old gentleman seated in the chair.  Doc continued to look back over his shoulder as he walked toward the lobby bar located on the left side of the foyer.  I gave Doc my typical disbelieving “Yeah right” response.  All facts being known, George and wife Cynthia Woods Mitchell own about half the buildings in the Historic Strand District.  Doc has been known to stretch the truth on occasion and all the more reason for my scoff, indicating my disbelief. 

 

The five of us arrived at the lobby bar just about the same time and gathered like a heard of cattle at the water trough anticipating a quenching drink. The bartender was a white haired, rather distinct looking older gentleman dressed in a tuxedo.  Doc caught me by surprise when he struck up a conversation with the bartender and made some reference about the formally dressed employee being Irish.  Damn, if Doc was not right.  They struck up a short conversation about their ethnic backgrounds, and I think Doc even finished the conversation with some Irish saying.  The bartender took our drink orders and began to walk away just as Doc kibitzed “ I would pay that girl over there $100 just to stop singing”.  The bartender stopped mid stride and turned on his right heel and spun around facing his newly acquainted countryman.  “I would not do that if I were you, sir” he quietly cautioned. “That’s George Mitchell’s granddaughter singing, and that is George Mitchell sitting in the chair”.  He did not have to tell us who George Mitchell was, because if you are a Texan from these parts you know who that is.  This caution was just enough to ignite the “bad boy” in Doc.  Doc got up from his bar stool just as the serenading Granddaughter finished the tune.  He began to praise her and ask who she was and where she was from. Before she could even respond he was requesting that everyone in our party have their picture taken with her because he was sure that she would be famous and Hollywood bound.  The twenty something young lady was overcome with joy that someone outside of the family would take notice of her singing ability.  Several pre-success pictures were taken of the young woman as her smiling Grandfather looked on. 

 

Doc has another link to the Tremont House Hotel besides Omar the piano player and the song “Three Coins in the Fountain”

 

 Doc tells me that the bar in the Tremont used to be in 7th Street Tavern where all the medical students went to drink Pearl beer after tests every Friday. A lady named Judy owned 7th Street Tavern and she helped float the medical students through school by actually loaning them money.  He tells me that he would write a check and she would ask –“Shifty (aka Wayne Mulloy), do you want it in the cash register or on the mirror”. He would say “On the Mirror” and she would stick the check on the mirror; and give him the cash.   At the end of the month after working some side jobs, he would come in and say Judy give me that check off the mirror, and he would hand her the cash.  Then Saturday evening he would go back and start studying.  “What a way to go”, Doc says.   Doc said that he owed a debt of gratitude to Judy.  The mirror that held his checks is the same mirror at the Tremont House bar today. 

 

Dr. Wayne Mulloy is the man that saved my life in 2004.  I attribute his availability to me, and quick diagnosis of my health that has extended my time here on earth.  

In conclusion I would like to pass on Doc’s typical salutation,  “Happy Trails, Never Call Retreat”

Sailing with the Admiral

 

Sailing with Peggy is not like any other person I have ever sailed with.  I have raced sailboats with people that thirst for the taste of victory at any cost to man or vessel.  I have sailed with people that do it for the entertainment (social) experience.  I am not too sure that I have ever sailed with someone who has the love of water that she has.  The first time we went out she actually doubted that I could sail at all.  She had never been exposed to sailing or people that do it.  The first time we sailed together was a warm Fall day in October.  I am not actually sure that we sailed (we might have just motored).  I remember a short trip out of the marina, out through Clear Creek channel and out into the bay.  Upon our return we opted to stop at the restaurant just under the Kemah Bridge, now named Outriggers.  I landed the boat on the dock parallel with the channel.  With my dock lines already in place, I approached the dock I slowed enough to step off on to their dock and tie the boat off single handed style.  It was a single handed docking that even an Americas Cup contender (at least in my mind) would be proud of.  After a few drinks it was time to depart.  When I returned I found the boat pinned to the dock by a stiff southeast breeze. This explains how the arrival docking could go so well.  The wind had me pinned to the dock, the boat could not have gone anywhere.  I reviewed the situation and figured I was about to get some rash on my fiberglass hull or at least some big time demerits with the woman (Peggy) I was trying to impress with my seamanship.  I have always contended that God looks after drunks, sailors, and drunken sailors.  It was my lucky day.  I had recently read the article on the TMCA web page under Link and Features / Seamanship /Undocking Tip.  I placed a line going aft from the bow of the boat to their dock cleat and forward back to my bow cleat.  I gave Peggy instructions to let the line go and pull it in when it got slack.  I idled the boat forward making the line tight, turned the helm hard to starboard in turn swinging the stern to the port.  I re-instructed Peggy on what and when to do it.  I put the boat in reverse, the boat eased off the dock, she untied the line from the cleat, and brought it back to her.  A textbook maneuver completed with, grace, style, and no shouting.  She never knew that I had never tried this before.  The sad part about it was she was so new to boating, that she never realized what a thing of beauty she had just witnessed.    

 

Later we were talking about sailing and I told her that there were dolphins in the bay.  She gave a youthful “Naught Ahhhhh”, indicating that I might be pulling her leg (for some unknown reason Peggy always thinks I am stretching the truth).  Several weeks later on a sailing trip one of those non-existent dolphins just about came into the boat while surfing on my stern wake.  The first time this happened she screamed for fear that it might have been Jaws or maybe Nessie.  The second time the dolphin sounded she had time to recognize the friendly playful visitor.  I bought her a pair of gold dolphin earrings to mark the occasion. 

 

Have you ever said anything that when the words came out you wished you could reach out into the air, grab the words, and stuff them back into your mouth?  It has happened a couple of times in my life to date.  The last time it happened was Friday, June 13, 2003.  Don’t you find it amazing that I would actually remember the day and date?  The reason that I do, is that I have lived to regret it so much, it is burned into my memory.  Here is the setting of the stage for the disastrous event.  Luke Sterling was leading the “Summer Solstice” cruise set for June 14 – 22.  Peggy is almost always in favor of getting an early start on most trips.  On this trip she had pushed for a Friday after work departure for the Baffle Point anchorage.  How many people reading this know to never start a voyage on a Friday?  How many people reading this know better than starting a voyage on Friday the 13^th?  It was just like spitting in the face of all those superstitions.  The departure from the marina went well that warm and fateful evening (the music changes to a chilling tone).  We were motoring down the ship channel when the first weather alert came over the VHF radio “Severe weather alert for areas of northern Harris County”.  We took the weather alert with little concern since we were in Galveston County, and continued along our way.  A second weather alert came over the VHF radio, “Severe weather alert for areas of southern Harris County”, why should we worry, we are not only in Galveston County, but now we are in southern Galveston County and we continued on our trip.  We arrived at the Baffle Point anchorage just as the sun was setting.  I set the Bruce anchor in 8 feet of water and let out a good 10 to 1 scope on the rode.  While setting the anchor I checked the northern sky and noted with caution the dark ominous sky (more chilling music).   I fine meal of spaghetti with homemade meat sauce, salad, and bread was at hand in the galley below deck.  At dinner we enjoyed discussing our plans and routes for the pending down coast cruise.  After dinner around 2230 hours I went on deck to check the set of the anchor.  That is when I saw it.  The severe weather they had forecast for the northern counties was just about to arrive in southern Galveston County.  I scurried below to make all the preparations I could for what looked like the worst weather I had ever experienced.  I explained the situation to Peggy and she asked if severe weather could roll the boat over.  I paused the storm preparations and said something to the effect that the only reason she would ask such a question was she was ignorant.  I felt like I could see the words coming out of my mouth and crashing into her questioning face.  Just as I saw the pain of the words coming across her face, New Life took a giant lurch and rolled 45 degrees to starboard.  The anchor drag alarm on the GPS began to sound immediately as the weather hit.  I scrambled to put on my foul weather gear and dashed out the companionway into the storm and the Admiral was not far behind.  I started up the engine, placed the transmission in forward and headed into the raging seas from the North.  My goal was to hold my position in relation to the Bolivar peninsula directly to the South.   The oncoming waves were so high that when the bow would plunge into the South bound waves the bowsprit with the navigation lights mounted on top of the pulpit would disappear into the waves leaving a red and green glow underwater.  I put the Admiral at the helm with instructions on how to interpret the GPS readings and our relationship to the nearby, lighted oil platform.  The goal was to hold a position in the same general area as I was anchored in originally.  The Admiral, now at the helm, had realized the meaning of my ruthless words spoken previously.  Similar to other severe storms crossing the bay the weather only lasted about an hour.  The boat began to settle down and we were once again on the hook secure.  Although the weather storm has passed I still (on occasion) experience the storm that the word ignorant caused in the relationship.  In my own defense it was just a poor choice of words at the time of pending disaster.  What I really meant to say was “the only reason you would ask, “would the boat  roll over in severe weather” is that you are inexperienced.”  I guess the morale of the story is live, learn, and pay for your mistakes. 

 

 

 

 

Losing the Dream

I am one of those people.  Yes I will say it again; “I am one of those people”.  I am one of many people who once had a dream and now feel that I will not be able to fulfill it.  I have had few dreams in my life, few goals, or even objectives.  I am one of those people who just rock along in life without much problem or cares. 

When I purchased s/v New Life and moved aboard with my 12 year old son in 1997, I never had any aspirations to do anything more than raise my son and sail on the local waters

My dream did not just appear one day.  It was years in the making.  It was kind of like when you open a frozen soda.  At first is comes out slowly and it gains momentum, and before you know it, after making a big mess, it is over. 

I actually adopted the dream from an old couple that I met at a TMCA meeting that was held at the Houston Yacht Club.  The meeting was an unusual one in that it was a fancy dinner meeting.  We were seated at the same white linen covered table and engaged in a light conversation.  They were talking about going cruising.  They said that the last thing they had to sell was their Lincoln Town Car and then they were free to depart.  Being polite I asked the old couple when they planned to return.  Their answer was shocking to me.  They responded with a simple “never”.  What? I questioned, did I hear you right, you are never coming back?  In a matter of fact tone their response was “Yes, that is right”.  They explained further that they had no reason to return.  Their kids were grown and had moved away from the area and they had no more ties to the Clear Lake area.  They would simply sail off into the sunset, never to return.  This per chance meeting had a profound impact on me.  Sometime, shortly after meeting this couple, I formed a goal to sail off into the sunset.  Furthermore I adopted their philosophy of never coming back.  I was delighted to finally have a goal in my life.  “I am going to sail away and never come back”, wow what a goal.  I used this statement when and wherever I could to get other peoples reaction.  Most, if not all of the reaction I got was lack luster at best.  Most people just gave my goal, my dream a “yeah, yeah” reaction.  I held and flaunted this goal to the best of my ability for quite sometime.  One day I thought that the reason for the less than enthusiastic reaction I was getting was because it was an unreasonable dream with no planning.  I modified my dream to “I am going cruising for 2 years, until it is not fun any longer, or I run out of money”.  You know the dream, you have heard it plenty of times.  Okay, my dream was not unique, but at least it was my dream, and a goal to obtain. 

I set my departure for late 2005 or early 2006 and I began to plan.  The boat would need several improvements.  As you well know boat improvements are always measured in “Boat Bucks”.  All improvements would be in increments of $1,000.00.  The improvements were to be as follows:

2002 – autopilot, depth meter, engine gauges, cockpit speakers, and replace two (2) portholes. 

2003 – propeller and propeller shaft, inverter, new electric panel, additional fuel tank, and replace two (2) portholes. 

2004 – roller furling, dodger, and bimini

2005 – GPS, solar panel, wind generator (maybe), and alternator / regulator

2006 – while in Florida purchase and install a water maker. 

There it was my boat improvement plan.  The boat improvement plan also had a matching money (cruising kitty) goal spreadsheet.  It was simple, just follow the plan and you will arrive in a certain spot at a certain time.  The departure date was set to coincide with the year that my youngest son, Michael, would graduate from high school.  I had one more thing to gather prior to departure and that was a first mate.  I began to search the Internet for likely candidates through several Internet dating websites.  I also would follow a guideline I had learned earlier in life and that was, “know your resources”.  I had a local resource available to me known as TMCA and began to explore it.  After exhaustive research I found out that if you want to have any female company when attending a TMCA event, you had better bring her with you.  TMCA has always been pretty much a couples club.  There were four (4) single women members at the time and I dated three (3) of the four (much to some TMCA members entertainment).  The efforts resulted in a 0/3 score so I went back to the larger pond (the Internet). I posted a personal ad on two (2) free sites.  I would not say that I received a lot of response, but I did receive some.  One of the women that responded to my ad is the person that you all know by now as Admiral Hun.  Peggy joined into my dream quickly after being introduced into the world of boating.  The plan was in motion everything was a go, until, (now is when you hear the music change) the fateful day of January 4, 2004.  I woke early feeling just a little bit off center and unable to sleep on my right side.  It felt like I was holding a golf ball under my arm.  It was not painful, just uncomfortable.  I thought I might have pulled a muscle at the TMCA planning meeting the day before when I went to put up the chairs.  What I did not know was this was the beginning of what would change my entire life plan and all of my goals.  I am proud to tell you, thanks to early diagnosis (Thanks, Doc Mulloy) I am a Stage 3 Melanoma survivor.  Although I have survived the biochemotherapy and surgery, my dreams have been dashed. I no longer monitor the progress of the boat improvement checklist or cruising kitty spreadsheet.  (This would be a good spot to milk all the sympathy that I could from the readers, but I will not waste your time.)  Yes, I am one of those people.   I am one of many people who once had a dream and now feel that I will not be able to fulfill it.  I am one of those people who have been to deaths door and returned.  I am one of those people who have been prayed for by people I have never met.  I am one of those people who have been loved and cared for by friends and family.  I cannot help but quote one of my favorite Jimmy Buffett songs: “Some of it is Magic, some of it is Tragic, but I had a good life all the way”

I read very little, but once I read about a man that was not able to fulfill his dream of sailing off to exotic locations for years on end.  Or was it that he had tried cruising long term and did not like it, I am not sure.  His solution was to cruise for two (2) weeks at a time in different locations in the world.  I now share his goal.  This goal came to fruition in June of 2005 when I successfully planned and executed the TMCA Past Commodores Cruise to the British Virgin Islands.  

Boating Observations

I do not profess to being all there is when it comes to seamanship.  I will say that I have spent plenty of time aground, pinned to the leeward shore, torn sails, smashed fiberglass, ripped stanchions off of my boat and ripped stanchions off of other peoples boats (sorry about that David and Lorna).  All of this is in the last couple of years.  You should have seen me in the early years of sailing, before I had all of this sea time.  Besides seamanship I have also noted that sailing etiquette exists.  Etiquette is something you either learn by someone telling you or you can learn it by experience.  A good for instance is in golf when you show up at the Bay Oaks golf course in ragged cut off jeans and a tank top, they will not allow you on the course.  If someone had just told me that it is good etiquette to dress in hemmed Bermuda shorts and a button down shirt with a collar I could have saved myself the embarrassment.  The same applies in sailing / boating.  I would like to pass on some of the boating etiquette that I learned as a young sailor. 

Here are just a few examples of “Bad Etiquette”

Fender washing – dragging your fenders while you are underway

Leaving the winch handle in the sheet winch while not in use

Baggy headsail – not pulling up your jib tight

Baggy Mainsail – same as above with the main sail

Dragging a line overboard

Securing the mainsheet of a small sailing dinghy in gusty conditions

Not turning on your navigation lights at dusk

Not turning your navigation lights off at daybreak

Using your anchor light as a steaming light (not knowing what lights to display, so you just turn them all on)

Sometimes you wonder if boat dealers don’t just hand the keys to the new boat owners and point to the water. 

Here are a few examples of “Good Etiquette”

Taking a Boaters Education course (Power Squadron recommended) before challenging a ship to the “Right of Way”

“Turn Big and Turn Early” to show the other boat your intentions.

Always being aware of your wake and the responsibility associated with it. 

I do want to clarify that I am just as bad about exhibiting “Bad Etiquette” as the next guy, but I am trying to improve.  I guess the point here is to try to increase your “Good Etiquette” and decrease your “Bad Etiquette” and the boating community should improve a little bit at a time.  If you have the opportunity to pass on “Good Etiquette” to a new boater, please do.  It improves the boating community exponentially. 

Croatia 2007

Past Commodores Cruise 2007

May 20 – 27, 2007

Croatia

Chapter One

To tell the truth I had not originally planned the trip to Croatia to be the “Past Commodores Cruise”.  The cruise was just an extension of the plan that the Admiral and I had come up with as an alternate to long term cruising, since my physical health sucked in 2004.  For those who do not know our alternate plan to long term cruising, it is to cruise for a couple weeks at a time in different places in the world every year, while staying employed (I love my job, it comes with health insurance).  So far the plan is working out well with a trip to BVI (British Virgin Islands) in 2005, a Texas down coast trip in 2006, and Croatia in 2007.  The difference between the 2005 / 2007 trips and the 2006 trip was that we invited other people to join us and they were dubbed as Past Commodore’s Cruise. 

Numerous people have asked me “How did you pick Croatia as a sailing destination?”  OK, to be honest, I did not even know exactly where Croatia was when I decided to schedule the trip.  Several people and magazine articles influenced the final decision.  The original trip destination was planned to be Greece.  I passed the thought of this cruise to Greece on to several of the TMCA’s experienced traveling members just to see their reaction (kind of asking for other peoples opinions, but going about it in what Admiral Hun might consider “John’s way”).  I received good reviews for Greece from everyone who had ever been to Greece, with the exception of one.  Sure enough Hank and Sue Knippa thought that the trip to Greece would be a great one, BUT…..if they were planning a trip to that part of the world, they would revisit Croatia.  They told me that the water and the countryside were beautiful, the buildings were of Roman and Venetian origin, and the people were welcoming and friendly.  This was just the combination I was looking for. 

The way that one of my Past Commodore’s Cruises works is that I charter a four (4) cabin boat and then I sell the three (3) other cabins to other people that would like to join in on the fun. When I charter the boat I take the risk that I might not be able to sell the other spaces on the boat.  So far I have been able to fill all the cabins.  During the charter each cabin shares one forth of the total boat expenses including fuel, onboard meals, onboard drinks, and mooring.  If you are wondering the cost of 10 days in the British Virgins, it was $3,188.19 per couple and the cost of 7 days in Croatia was $3,353.80 per couple including airfare.  Several people managed to use their frequent flyer miles for some or all of the airfare for their transportation to Croatia cutting their cost by more than half. 

In August of 2006 I purchased round trip plane tickets to Split, Croatia.  In September I called up Sunsail to make boat reservations for a planned 10 day sailing trip.  That is when I found out they only chartered in one week intervals in Croatia.  The choice was made to go with just one week of sailing and the Admiral and I would spend the rest of our vacation time on land in Croatia. 

Early in the planning stages, David and Lorna Glascock had signed on for the trip.  They had attended the last past Commodore’s Cruise in 2005 to the BVI in a 47’ catamaran they had chartered.  For some unknown reason I assumed that they would once again charter their own boat and recruit their own passengers.  That was a wrong assumption.  David and Lorna had planned to join us on our boat, but by the time I realized it, my boat was booked full.  David and Lorna, being good sports, did go ahead and charter their own boat.  I chartered a Sun Odyssey 425 with 4 cabins and 2 heads, and David chartered s/v Royal Blue II, a Beneteau 473 four cabin 3 head boat.   Before David knew it he had all of his cabins full.  As a matter of fact we got close to having three (3) boats, but no one was willing to step up and take on the charter end of the deal.  My original concern was that a mono hull with 8 people would be overcrowded to say the least, but I was wrong.  All occupants of s/v Samba (Sun Odyssey 425) agreed that the accommodations we more than sufficient for a week of cruising.  The only problem that I personally had, was that upon returning from the trip, Admiral Hun announced, “we need to buy a bigger boat”. After living aboard for 5 years with the last 1 ½ years aboard s/v New Life (a very roomy 34’ sailboat), she decided we needed a bigger boat.  My response was predictable, “Yeah, right”.   The Past Commodores Cruise 2007 worked out very well with two (2) boats and 16 people.  

Next Chapter Preview

Lorna gets kidnapped by German Pirates??

Treating storms drive TMCA cruisers from Hvar to the Hellish Islands (and were they ever Hellish)

Croatian beaches and swimming in the icy waters of the Adriatic

Chapter Two

I have realized that in the first article I did not list the characters in the story being told, a large blunder on my part.  You need to have a program if you want to know who the players are.  I will now attempt to make amends.  The s/v Samba (Sun Odyssey 425) was crewed by the following people: John & Peggy Allison (s/v New Life), Lee & Patrice Mixon (s/v Blue Horizon), Richard & Joanne Collins (s/v Eagles Wings), Jeri Sullivan (crew), and Laura Polich (crew) The s/v Royal Blue II (Oceanis 473) was crewed by the following people: David & Lorna Glascock (s/v Windswept), Ron & Lynne Eddleman (s/v Stellar of Course), Rob & Carolyn Peterson (s/v Piovere), and Steve & Sue Bertram (crew). 

Preface

In preparation for the Past Commodore’s cruise the crew held three (3) organizational meetings from January 2007 – April 2007.  We discussed general itinerary, food likes and dislikes and trip expectations.  Most couples purchased either travel guides or road maps while Ron Eddleman (skipper elect of s/v Royal Blue II) and I purchased cruising guides and electronic charts.  We were organized and informed. Who could ask for more?  The gathering of this fine group of Texas sailors, at a pre-designated spot in Split, Croatia, went off without a hitch. 

Sunday, May 20^th  Day 1

Kremik - Primosten

We arrived earlier than required at the Sunsail base in Kremik.  Check-in went flawlessly due to the great efforts of both crews.  It was my understanding through all of my correspondence with SunSail that we would check in, spend the night on the boat at the Kremik charter base and head out the following morning.  During check-in the SunSail employee assigned to our boat asked if we were departing that night, and I immediately and without hesitation, bluffed, “Hell yes we are departing tonight!”  I asked him, what was the hold up, and he said we were free to shove off as soon as we had completed the chart briefing.  All the crewmembers that had any interest in our destinations attended the chart briefing.  The chart briefing really wasn’t much more than the guy recommending a few islands and locations.  The most important thing to know (and was not covered in the briefing) while navigating in Croatia is “GREEN ON RIGHT RETURNING” (it is like driving on the wrong side of the road) The water in Croatia is deep and well marked. 

It was early evening by the time that we pulled out of the slips at the Kremik SunSail charter base.  I was glad that I had pre-programmed a couple of destinations into my hand held chart plotter.  One of those locations was Primosten, the next harbor to the north.  The trip from Kremik to Primosten was not much more than going from one end of Clear Lake to the other, but it beat staying tied up in the charter base.  When we arrived at Primosten we found the quay full.  This did not present a problem since there was plenty of space to anchor in the harbor.  While trying to locate that just right spot to anchor I noticed s/v Royal Blue II looked like they were heading back out of the harbor.  In reality they were moving up slowly on what I would call the largest amount of dolphin activity that I have ever witnessed.  A large group of dolphin were swimming in a circle herding smaller (and tasty) fish.  All of a sudden, all the dolphins would begin to jump into the middle of the circle and begin to chow down.  We were able to move up close enough on this ritual to see the smaller fish jump out of the water ahead of the dolphins in a desperate attempt to escape certain death.  

We all went ashore for dinner and split up in smaller groups so as not to overwhelm any one restaurant or café.  We walked up a small hill and ended up in a café with a great view of the surrounding Adriatic.  Later that evening we met up with some of the crew of s/v Royal Blue II where we found out that Sue Bertram had special fish for dinner. 

Monday, May 21^st Day 2

Primosten – Komiza on the isle of Vis

This was to be our longest run and it was mostly motoring.  It was our experience that the wind would be calm in the morning and build during the day.  By early afternoon it was not uncommon for the wind to be blowing 15 – 20 knots.  Since this was our longest run, we arrived mid-afternoon during some pretty windy conditions.  As we approached the harbor I had another boat to the starboard and I got the distinct feeling this guy was going to storm the entrance and cut me off at the pass.  Sure enough, that was exactly what he did.  He forced me to turn to port to allow him to enter the harbor before I could.  Being from out of town, I let it slide.  We rounded the wall of the quay to the starboard and turned down wind.  There, we found a long wall with several boats already secured in place.  I would like to take this spot to tell you that, up until this point in my life, I have never med moored In fact, I had never been at the helm of a boat this big, but what the hey, I have been known to bluff my way through some pretty hairy situations in my life.  I will admit that as I was coming down wind preparing to med moor in what would be a 20-knot wind, full abeam in a pretty big boat that I am unfamiliar with.  I will say I did have my doubts about the success of this bluff.  I turned the boat to port into the cross wind a little early and she did not settle down wind like I had anticipated.  I ended up having to move ahead and then astern while trying to work my way down wind and hold the bow up all at the same time.  The only way that I know how to describe this first med moor, is “complete chaos.”  The boat, already secured to the quay, manned their port rail while the crew of s/v Samba manned our starboard rail and both groups braced for the collision.   I would like to take this spot to tell you that at no time during this med moor was the boat or any person PERMANETLY INJURED OR MAIMED (permanently being the key word).  I learned in my airplane pilot training, any landing you walk away from is a good landing.  I decided to apply this point of view to the arrival of s/v Samba to the port of Komiza.  The bad thing about the experience was I was not particularly proud of the seamanship displayed on the quay that day.  The good thing about the experience was I had plenty of company.  We had no sooner secured our boat to the quay and the boat to our starboard when it was time to scramble to the port rail to fend off the next boat arriving.  After several boats had arrived up wind, we no longer felt the distinct crush of the arriving vessels.  With s/v Samba “safely” secured, I immediately declared “liberty” and instructed the crew that in the morning we would be sailing with the tide and to be sure to be back aboard before 0800 hrs. the next morning with a strict warning that we would set sail without them.  In true TMCA tradition, everyone was back aboard by 9:00 PM. 

Komiza, not unlike many of the towns we would visit, had a “Riva”, a walkway along the harbor, a promenade if you will.  Many of the town’s cafés, markets and pubs line the Riva.  At the very end of this Riva, nearest the quay, was a doorway covered in burlap.  This was a local distribution point for some Domestic Wine.   I would say that we did make an effort in supporting the local economy by purchasing everything “domestic” that we could. 

Glossary

Med Moor:  The reader must realize that at no time did we actually “Mediterranean Moor” in the full sense of the term.  Sure we would tie up with our stern to the quay, but we never really set anchor and backed into the wall.  Laid lines or lazy lines were provided and the harbormaster would usually hand a small line tied to the quay to the crewmember on the stern.  The crewmember would then walk the line forward and find a much larger sometimes crusty line to tie to the bow cleat.  This crusty line was usually tied to a 57 Chevy engine block sitting on the bottom of the harbor

Special Fish: This is a fish that increases in value from the time you pick it out on the menu until the time that you go to pay for it.  When you question the increase in cost you find out that this particular fish was extremely hard to catch, hence the additional cost, hence the name. 

Domestic Wine: Locally made wine that can be purchased in a used plastic water bottle from a person standing in a narrow doorway. This wine may or may not have a label on it.  This wine can be any color (red, white, brown, etc.) and usually pretty damn good, especially starting into the second 1 ½ liter bottle. 

Next Chapter Preview

I promise to get to Lorna gets kidnapped by German Pirates, three (3) TMCA members barely escape heart attacks due to windlass trouble, and threatening storms drive TMCA cruisers from Hvar to the Hellish Islands. 

Chapter Three

Tuesday, May 22^nd Day 3

Komiza  - Hvar on the isle of Hvar – Palmizana on the isle of Sveti Klement

The plan of the day was to drop by the “Blue Cave” on the isle of Bisevo before heading to Hvar.  Although our travel guides (Frommers / Lonely Planet) varied on the optimum time to view the cave we arrived at 0930hrs and found the cave to be beautiful and worth the time and the 30 Kuna ($6.00) / person entry fee.  After the morning excursion we  sailed toward the town of Hvar on the island of Hvar.  When we arrived at Hvar harbor we found the quay full.  We selected a spot opposite the quay near the local fishing fleet in which to set an anchor.  It took two (2) tries but finally got the hook to set.  As I watched s/v Royal Blue II find a spot, I noticed the building, dark clouds to the southeast.  You are not going to believe this, but the only email that I received prior to going to Croatia on the subject of Croatia was one from Jack Oden warning me about storms from the southeast while at Hvar causing severe boat damage.  s/v Royal Blue II had just settled in when the wind changed and gusted from the southeast.  I was discussing our selected anchorage with a local fisherman standing in his boat, (something about you can’t anchor there) when s/v Samba immediately swung the opposite direction from the original placement.  I was no longer NEAR the local fishing fleet, I was IN the local fishing fleet.  s/v Samba and every other boat in Hvar harbor that had crew aboard was weighing anchor.  The storms were coming and building fast.  We were just about free of the bottom when the Hvar harbormaster roars up in an inflatable and notifies us that we cannot stay in the harbor during the oncoming storm.  The email from Jack had already flashed through my mind and I knew just by looking at the fisherman whose boat I just blew into, the harbormaster was very right.  The boats came out of Hvar harbor like they were at the start of a Grand Prix race.  Boats were scrambling for any safe harbor they could find.  Luck being with me (once again), I already had an alternate marina in the chart plotter.  This marina was disregarded earlier in the day due to the high cost.  All of a sudden, a marina that had shelter from a southeast wind, was no longer considered expensive.  The marina was about a 2 mile dash back up the Hvar channel.  With s/v Samba in the lead, I had the engine cranked as high on the tachometer was allowed by SunSail, and I am sure s/v Royal Blue II was the same.  We were making good time toward the marina when I sighted a smaller (and faster) boat approaching from behind s/v Royal Blue II.  This guy was maneuvering to cut me off!  He passed s/v Royal Blue II and positioned himself to my starboard and was headed for the jetty surrounding the marina.  I gunned the engine in response to his actions. There was no way in hell I was going to be cut off a second time!  s/v Royal Blue II slowed to enjoy the show.   My course was for the very end of the jetty with no room for a second boat.  The challenging boat slowed and crossed between s/v Royal Blue II and me, then accelerated and tried to come around me on the port.   By this time I had rounded the jetty into the marina.  The harbormaster blew a whistle and waved him off to another location.  When I rounded the jetty I must have been making about 10 knots.  Just like the day before, the wind was gusting 30 knots from behind.  This 30 knot following wind was about to turn into a 30 knot cross wind when I rounded up in position for a Med Moor.  I turned the boat hard to port and gave it all the throttle the Yanmar would take in reverse and waited for the results.  The only way that I could describe the apparent pending disaster is to refer to a popular boating movie when Captain Ron arrives at the yacht club and just steps off for a drink at the bar.  To both crews of TMCA boats it appeared planned and precise. Needless to say, it was nothing more than dumb luck that we did not lose the damage deposit on the boat that day. 

Once both TMCA boats were secure, the crews headed out to explore the port.  The Admiral and I stayed in the marina taking care of the slip fees and other ships business.  We were just trying to decide what to do about dinner when some of the roaming crews returned to the boats informing us that they had found a deluxe spot on the other side of the island and that almost everyone had agreed to join up for dinner.  We decided to join in and participate.  It was one of the most memorable evenings ashore (from what I can remember).  The meal included Special Fish, assorted grilled meats (unknown, but tasty animals), grilled vegetables, red wine, white wine, Grappa, Rakia, before dinner drinks, and after dinner drinks, there might have even been some desert (from what I can remember).  To sum up the adventure at TOTO’s in Palmizana, I would say, “It was an evening of indulgence” (and we took home the leftovers)

Wednesday, May 23^rd Day 4

Palmizana on the Hellish Islands - Hvar on the isle of Hvar

It was a short jump from the ACI marina on Palmizana back to the harbor in Hvar.  Once again, the quay was full so we quickly anchored and took the dinghy ashore.  Once on shore we met up with some of our group at a harbor side café having morning refreshments.  Lorna was feeling poorly that morning (see above for explanation of ill feelings (hung over, Nah)) so David took her back to the boat to rest.  The rest of the group split up to explore the bustling town of Hvar.  In the early afternoon as Ron, Lynn, Dave, Steve and Sue were having pizza along the Riva, Sue casually said to Dave, "Our boat is moving".  Dave said "it is not".  Sue said "it sure is"!  s/v Royal Blue II was underway with only a sleeping Lorna aboard.  Everyone else was ashore and no one was at the helm.  Come to find out,  a departing boat had weighed anchor and snagged Royal Blue II’s anchor on the way out.  Lorna woke up to find the boat underway with no engine on and under tow by Albanian sailors.  Unable to communicate she tried to get the engine started but was unable to find the starter button.  Unable to start the engine she tried to call for help on the radio.  It was unknown to her that the circuit breakers for the radios were off.  Knowing Lorna, can you just imagine her yelling and screaming at the puzzled Albanian sailors with her South African accent?  The harbormaster already aware of the problem was yelling at Lorna, not to panic.  David and Ron sprang into action! They rushed to the other side of the harbor, jumped into their dinghy and sped to her rescue, shouting to the departing Albanians with Lorna in tow.  David and Ron’s rescue had all the signs of success right up until the outboard motor on the dinghy quit.  Ron frantically tried to re-start the motor while David grabbed a paddle and did his best with what he had to catch the departing Lorna.  Despite the sailboat engine not starting, the radio not working, the Albanian sailors not understanding South African ranting, and the outboard motor stalling (by the way Steve had turned off the gas valve), all ended well.  The boat did not sustain any damage and Lorna had forgotten that she even had a hangover.  Lorna tells me that adrenaline is an excellent cure for that morning after feeling.

Glossary

Med Moor: 

By the third day, I had anchored once and Med Moored twice (both in gusting cross winds).  At this point I would have to define Med Mooring as a slightly controlled crash that is more dependent on luck than skill. 

Special Fish: This special fish was enormous. I was actually able to negotiate the fish to a lower price, but this fish was still extremely hard to catch, hence the name. 

Unleaded Gasoline: See Grappa / See Rakia

Grappa: By definition - a fragrant grape-based pomace brandy of between 30% and 80% alcohol by volume (60 to 160 proof), of Italian origin, by actuality – see Unleaded Gasoline

Rakia : By definition - considered to be the national drink among some of the South Slavic peoples, by actuality – see Unleaded Gasoline

Next Chapter Preview

The day of adventure continues in Hvar

Lorna fends off a fleet of boats trying to take a “Reserved” spot on the quay for s/v Samba

More Domestic Wine in Milna

Chapter Four

Wednesday, May 23^rd Day 4 continued

Hvar on the isle of Hvar

Last month if you recall Albanian sailors had commandeered s/v Royal Blue II with Lorna aboard.  David and Ron rescued Lorna while Lynne, Steve, and Sue ate pizza on the Riva. A little later in the day the Admiral and I were up at the local supermarket (a really big one) searching for cheap Babic (a type of Croatian wine) when Ron called on the hand held VHF radio.  Ron told us that they had gotten a spot on the quay and Lorna (now recovered from her hangover) was holding a spot just to the port of them for s/v Samba.  I was only a couple of blocks from the harbor and rushed to the dinghy to take advantage of this windfall.  David and Ron met Peggy and me at the dinghy and we sped to s/v Samba now resting at anchor in the harbor.  The Admiral manned the helm and Ron and David manned the electric windlass in an effort to weigh anchor in a most expeditious manor.  Ron was complaining about the windlass not working so I went below to reset the circuit breaker.  We continued to have problems with the winch.  We were able to get the anchor up off the bottom to set us free but were unable to raise it back onboard.  The Admiral motored into open water as we struggled with the problem at hand.  Meanwhile Lorna has positioned herself on the bow pulpit of s/v Royal Blue II waving off approaching boats vying for the primo location on the busy quay.  Regardless of our efforts the windlass would only power down the anchor dependably.  The power up mode was intermittent at best and finally with more than 30 meters of chain with a big ass anchor all hanging straight down there was but one thing left to do, pull it all up by hand.  Ron stationed himself nearest the bow, David took the middle position and I was at the end of the line.  We all worked in unison with are best efforts knowing that by now Lorna had most likely gone mute from growling at approaching vessels in an ominous voice like an irate bulldog with a South African accent.  At one point during the weighing of the anchor, we stopped to rest and catch a breath, after a short pause, Ron looks over his right shoulder and asks “You Ready?” (like, in are you ready to continue pulling up the anchor?), my response was a gasping “Hell No!”, he quickly responded in a winded breath “Thank God”.  We only rested long enough to ensure that we would all not die of heart attacks before the anchor was placed back on the bow.  Finally, after about an hour of struggling with anchor problems, we approached our reserved spot on the quay.  I tried not to look at the multiple boats circling the harbor as we took the “reserved” spot on the quay.  I felt like we had earned our spot on the quay, regardless of what the other boats thought.  Needless to say we did not recruit any new TMCA members while in Hvar. 

Thursday, May 24^th Day 5

Hvar – Milna on the isle of Brac

The trip from Hvar to Milna is a fairly short one.  We were the first boat on to the quay in this well sheltered harbor.  The cruising guide warned that the smell from the local sardine canning plant may on occasion waft into town.  It must have not been sardine season, because there was no activity (or smell) at the plant when we motored past on the way into town.  We arrived early in the day just in time for lunch.  Our resident galley slaves Laura and Jeri had cooked up a really great Italian style meal with leftover Special Fish from Palmizana.  s/v  Royal Blue II had mixed up a large salad made with veggies from the local market.  Steve had purchased some cherries from a local lady sitting on the steps of the church directly behind the boats.  It was really our first opportunity to have a TMCA style potluck meal together.  After lunch it was time to explore the town.  This particular day was fairly warm being in a sheltered harbor.  We went over to the marina office and asked about the local beaches.  In broken English the woman told us of two (2) swimming areas a small one on the right of the harbor adjacent to a local hotel, and another out by the other marina on the left of the harbor entrance.  Two boatloads of Texas sailors headed out in search of the swimming areas, bathing suits on, suntan lotion and beach towels in hand.  The first beach we arrived at was the one next to a hotel.  It was a small area about 30 feet long with small crushed rock as the beach.  We dismissed this area due to its size and being in the shade.  We ventured over to the location of the second beach.  We motored to an area at the end of the cove past the boats in the marina.  The rocks in the cove were substantially large and difficult to walk on.  Most of the participants headed to the water quickly but immediately slowed once actually in the water.  The waters of the Adriatic never really get “warm” to our standards and certainly not by the end of May.  Regardless of the temperature, by God we came to swim, and swim we did.  All of this excitement was observed by several of the local marina residents with puzzled looks.  The residents gathered as a group to watch the spectacle of a bunch of foreigners with strange accents flailing around in the icy waters.  During the swim party a local resident came by and asked what we were doing.  I thought it was fairly obvious, but what she was getting at was “Why are you swimming in the marina rather than at the beach?”  My response was a puzzled “Huh?”  I looked around to realize the expression on the residents faces were exactly that of what mine might look like if someone motored into Watergate Marina and jumped into the water.  If this scene had appeared in a comic book the phrase “they must be out of their minds” would have been drawn in a balloon over the crowds heads.  We politely packed up our stuff and motored past the gawking crowd to the “designated” beach.  Real beaches do not occur naturally in Central Dalmatia.  Croatia has no sand that I was able to find.  If the area is used for swimming they put out crushed rock on the shore, (that is one way to tell if you are supposed to be swimming there).  The Riva in Milna must have been a mile long.  The Riva stretched from the quay at the church front, past several harbor side cafes 

I have reviewed my logbook I see that more Domestic Wine and even some Mirta were involved at this port of call.  This particular winery was located behind a black painted arched wooded door with a piece of cardboard attached with the word “vino” scratched in pencil.  Now that we had been in the country for 5 whole days we were suave to the way to locate really fine wine, the kind in the used 1 ½ liter water bottles.  We pushed the door open to find out that it opened up to a courtyard that contained domestic housing and a small antique winery.  When I say antique, I mean the huge wooden casks had 1885 carved into them.  The Croatian lady who led us into the damp and musky stone walled winery was about the same vintage.  She handed us samples of the red, the white, and the Mirta.  While I was checking the nose of this fine wine by swirling it around on my plastic sample cup I noticed multiple whole animal skins hanging from the ceiling.  These skins must have been a way to transport the wine from place to place at one time since where the head, feet, and other parts that had extended from the body was stitched up securely.  The heavy coat of dust on everything did not deter us from purchasing a 1 ½ liters of both the red and the white wines.  The old woman that was selling the wines spoke no English at all and the English that we spoke was purely Texan.  The person that thought that the lack of language skills would interfere with commerce was wrong.  She got the proper amount of Kuna (plus some for her time) and we got our domestic wine. 

Glossary

Special Fish: This was the special fish that was left over from Palmizana.

Domestic Wine: Locally made wine that can be purchased from a person standing in a narrow doorway. This wine may or may not have a label on it.  Some domestic wine actually had a cork, but the really good stuff came in a recycled 1 ½ liter plastic water bottles.  This wine can be any color (red, white, brown, etc..) and usually pretty damn good, especially starting into the second 1 ½ liter bottle. 

Mirta (Myrtle) is the grappa brandy mixed with the myrtle fruits (Myrtus communis) and endemic ... Alcohol content 39 vol.%.  This stuff is worse than unleaded gasoline. 

Next Chapter Preview

The perfect “Med Moor”, the worst “Med Moor” of all, 14 crew members go ashore on the mainland, country comes to town, and the end of the line (I promise)

Chapter 5 Finale

Friday, May 25^th Day 6

Milna  - Trogir (on the mainland) – Marina (on the mainland)

After an invigorating swim in the Adriatic Sea, some domestic wine, and a good night’s sleep we were well prepared to take on the next challenge.  The typical operation was to gather the crews together and decide the next day’s destination before the evening liberty ashore.  This strategy had worked well the whole trip.  Setting the destination the evening before gave Ron and myself the necessary time to plot a course to the next location and gather the local knowledge from the cruising guides.  I would like to point out, at this time, that we never really had a set itinerary.  None of the attending crews had been to Croatia before so it was all new to us. It really did not make a difference to any single one person where we went, it was all good.  The cruising guide said that there would be no slips available in Trogir on Friday or Saturday so we decided to depart extra early to insure that we would prove the cruising guides wrong.  We arrived at the large sheltered harbor just outside of Trogir with no problems.  This was the first time we were near the mainland since leaving Promisten almost a week earlier.  We approached the city quay on the port side and were waved off by the harbormaster. The city quay was reserved for inbound ferries and not generally used by charter boats.  We circled around to review the situation when I spotted a couple of really nice spots in a marina to the starboard.  s/v Royal Blue II continued to circle as I prepared an approach.  The open slips were a good distance down a narrow fairway.  After a brief consultation with the now, well seasoned crew, they manned their stations along the stern and starboard rail.  I backed the boat down the fairway and turned into the waiting slip with all the style and finesse that would have made any of my fellow Texas sailors proud.  I was just putting the gearshift into forward to ease my reverse motion when the harbormaster showed up.  The crew readied themselves to receive the lazy line from him when he announced, “You can’t tie up there”.  Once again I was forced to use my patented response, a puzzled “Huh?”  With continuing style, I held the boat still while the harbormaster informed me that although the slips were open, they were reserved for boats coming in off of week long charters.  I thanked him for his kindness and powered up, out of the slip, never touching another boat.  What a shame to waste such a stylish med moor.  We communicated the results of the attempted landing with s/v Royal Blue II and we decided to anchor in Trogirski Zaljev (the harbor adjacent to the castle).  All towns that we visited had castles of some sort.  s/v Royal Blue II caught an anchorage without much problem.  s/v Samba on the other hand could not catch a good spot despite several tries.  Since this was going to be just a short day excursion we opted to raft to s/v Royal Blue II and swing on just one anchor.  Trogir was on the Admiral’s and my schedule to visit during our land portion after the sailing adventure, so we volunteered to ferry the crews of both boats ashore with a pre-arranged pick up time of early afternoon.   The plan worked without a hitch.   After retrieving both crews from the Trogir riva, we decided to stay in the harbor we were in and just sail west to the other end for protection from the predominant south wind.  The far west end of the harbor was a town called Marina. In Marina there was a marina.  s/v Royal Blue II decided that more land adventure was required to complete the day (most likely powered by the urge for more domestic wine), where as s/v Samba (Captain John being a “CBS” (cheap bastard sailor)) chose an anchorage just behind a point of land that was a fairytale location.  I could not tell you exactly what made the spot magic, but it was.  The water was calm, the sun was setting, and the camaraderie was heartwarming.  We shared a relaxing evening full of photo opportunities, good food, and friendship knowing that we only had a few short days remaining in this adventure.  At one solitary point in the evening as I watched the land to the east turn golden in the setting sun I recited in my mind an old Boy Scout prayer that really summed up the way I was feeling at the time, the “Philmont Grace”

For food, for raiment,

For life, for opportunity,

For friendship and fellowship,

We thank thee, O Lord. Amen

Saturday, May 26^th Day 7

s/v Royal Blue II, Marina  s/v Samba from Anchor  – Rogoznica (on the Mainland)

Departure came and after the morning coffee ritual (that is John fighting with the coffee press) everyone was up and ready to set sail.  We were just setting the mainsail as s/v Royal Blue II approached from the west.  I once heard that if there were two sailboats in the water it was a race.  It started out innocently enough.  The mainsail was set, the headsail was rolled out, and sheeted in to form a perfect foil.  s/v Samba responded, the seasoned crews every touch at the command of the salty skipper.  Okay, okay I was getting a little carried away.  The real point here is that s/v Samba kicked s/v Royal Blue II’s ass coming out of the harbor.  The best part of our version of America’s Cup qualifying round was when s/v Samba pasted the finish mark (a point of land) entering open sea, I got to call s/v Royal Blue II on the radio to see how they liked the look of our transom.  Ron, I would like to say that I really wanted to take much more time to rub it in, but I am running long in the article.

We sailed most of the way to our next destination, the town of Rogoznica.  The plan was to catch a slip at “Marina Frappa”.   The approach to the marina was pretty straight forward with the exception of a small island just barely above the water.  We passed the island to port and turned crosswind into what appeared to be a welcoming fairway.  Croatian weather was up to it normal trick of light winds in the morning and gusting in the afternoon.  My decision to take a slip to the starboard was my first of many mistakes.  The slip that I selected was shaping up to be a downwind med moor.  Wow, what a mistake that was.  Even in light winds, handling this 42-foot monster with a ton of windage would have been a challenge.  I was about to try it in 20 knot gusting winds in a semi protected fairway.  The approach down the fairway had some style.  The dedicated crew was ever ready to go with the captain’s decision to give it a try.  They were at their stations along the stern and starboard rail as instructed.  I could tell by the scramble of the harbormaster to reach us, I had made a mistake in judgment.  It was not until I let off some the reverse power to slow the approach speed that I found out just how ugly it could get.  I pulled the throttle back to dead slow and reached for the gearshift to put it in neutral.  I did not even get a chance to get my hand off the gearshift when the bow swung hard to port.  The landing crew poised on the starboard rail was now instantly on the wrong side.  The innocent bystanders that were simply trying to stay out of the way on the port side were flung into action for the sole reason of being in the wrong place at the wrong time.  I desperately grabbed the gearshift in an effort to gain some forward motion and possibly escape any boat damage to our boat or the boats already moored.  Just before I engaged the engine I looked through the clear water to see the bow lines of other boats already moored.  For fear of snagging the keel or spade rudder and possibly fouling the propeller I took no evasive actions.   The boat eased downwind onto the waiting bow pulpits and ground tackle of the boats already secure.  The entire crew scrambled successfully to save our boat and two other boats from damage.  As the boat came to rest I had realized that I had committed one of the cardinal sins of sailing, I was pinned to the windward shore.   This was a lesson taught to me as a 12 year old novice sailor.  I could hear in my mind my sailing mentor Old Don Boring shouting, “Anybody hurt”?  I am glad to say that no one or any boat was hurt.  The thing that suffered the most was my pride.  It has always been my practice in a situation like this to just let things settle down before making any other bad decisions and that is exactly what I did.  Somehow, with the help of the capable crew and the harbormaster, we were able to maneuver out of the downwind slip into the fairway and back into the small harbor that surrounded the marina.  s/v Royal Blue II had observed the catastrophe and chosen an upwind slip to the port.   We circled while s/v Royal Blue II settled in and I shook off the experience of a really bad approach.  The upwind med moor beat the hell out of the downwind one.  Liberty was called in Rogoznitca and we headed up to the office to pay our fees.  On the way to the marina office I just so happened to notice that at 42 feet long, we were the smallest boat in the marina.  When I walked into the office I was sure of two (2) things, 1) we would not be allowed to stay in the marina (we were dressed in the Croatian version of the “Kemah Dress Code” (tee shirt, shorts, deck shoes, light coat) this marina was more like the white deck shoes, white pants, white shirt, blue double breasted blazer with gold buttons) and 2) I did not think that we could afford to stay in this marina.  I was wrong on both counts.  No one ever denied us access anywhere and the cost was no more expensive than any other marina that we had stayed in.  Although we did not use very many of the amenities, they certainly were available.  The marina was not located in the town.  It was just a short walk around the harbor to get to the local businesses.  The Admiral and I found a nice restaurant with outside dining where the ceiling was a trellis covered in grape vines.  The grapes were small and not ripe yet.  The experience reminded me of a restaurant on Proctor Street in Port Arthur when I was young, the ceiling of Colicha’s Italian Village was absolutely covered in artificial grapevines and grapes.  I flashed back to realize that this must have been what they were trying to simulate back in Texas.  It was a shame it only took me 40 years to understand what the Colicha family was simulating. 

This Saturday was the last full day of cruising the Adriatic waters for us Texas cruisers.  The only way I know how to describe the emotions of that of day is to compare it to the last day of summer camp.  Although we had no closing campfire, no special ceremony, or singing of Kum Ba Yah, you could tell the crew of s/v Samba were experiencing the same emotions of young scouts enriched by the experiences of the previous week. 

Sunday, May 27^th Day 8

Rogoznica - Kremik

The final day of boating in Croatia was no more than a departure, a short trip north to the next harbor inlet, and one more bad med moor.  The crews arrived with bags packed for their next adventure.  Some of the cruise participants immediately returned to Texas, some lingered in Europe for an additional week, and others even traveled Europe for an additional 3 weeks. 

I would like to express a heartfelt “Thank You” to all of the participants of the Past Commodore’s Cruise 2007 for making it a magical time of my life. 

Regards,

John Allison

TMCA Past Commodore 2007