Welcome to the January 2012 issue of News From the Bow

Welcome to the January 2012 issue of News From the Bow

With 2011 in our wake and the promise of a new year upon us, life’s meaning becomes clearer. If you recently exchanged holiday gifts you’ve probably realized that it truly is better to give than to receive. As for the gifts you did receive, they more than likely didn’t bring you peace, or health, or a more meaningful life. Seasonal food and drink didn’t result in any lasting magic either. Quite the opposite. What remains of the celebrations, the revelry, and last year’s enormous efforts in all directions, is your love of family, and the contributions you made to others. The wise among us realize, sooner better than later, that the pots of gold we chase are often no more than catch basins for tears.

Now, with a new year beginning, we get a fresh palate upon which to paint the story of our lives. Shall we fill 2012 with service to others, with family and close friends, with healthy food and exercise, and with our passions (including boating)? YES! Let’s begin now.

In this issue of NFTB we present:

• A review of Three Men In a Boat, a book that will help you laugh (an activity proven to increase overall health) and experience anew your passion for boating

• An article about the most important factor in any successful day on the water…weather (see Don’t Mess With Mother Weather)

• A note on staying healthy (see Hope On the Horizon for a Safe Raw Bar)

• A review of newly available toys to make onboard photography more enjoyable and creative (see Review of iPhone/Smart Phone Camera Lenses)

• A original nautical poem about the water’s draw during winter (see Winter Beckons)

• A photo essay that highlights nature’s purity (see No Moorings at Cuttyhunk)

We hope you enjoy this issue of NFTB, and invite you to send us your thoughts.

Wishing you fair winds, following seas, and a healthy and happy 2012,

Shana and Stu Hochron, Editors

Don’t Mess with Mother Weather By Vicki Lathom

Don’t Mess with Mother Weather

 By Vicki Lathom

A storm approaching Marsh Harbor in the Bahamas

Beginning boaters often share one thing in common; not leaving enough wiggle room in their schedules to avoid trouble.

Trouble means ending up entering an inlet in the dark, or during a storm, in an attempt to make port on schedule, or to save time. Like having a financial cushion before taking on debt, boaters need a time cushion for every trip.

I learned this the hard way. My husband and I were on a cruise in Chesapeake Bay in the 1970’s. We were in a little port called Solomons Island, which was fifty miles from our destination, Dunn Cove in the Choptank River. But a boat trip is just like a car trip, no? You just get in, turn on the engine, and go. We left Solomons at 3 PM, figuring that the trip to Dunn Cove would take the afternoon, getting us in before dark.

Our boat, Gypsy, was a fifty-foot sloop with a seven-foot draft, built in the 1940s. Solid but underpowered.

We overlooked one thing-the weather. Experienced boaters always say that, in planning for

The author and her partner, Barry Miller, aboard S/V Cantabile

a cruise, the three most important things you take into consideration are weather, weather and weather.

Around 6 PM a mass of violent thunderstorms reached down the Bay to us, just as we entered the Choptank. As they often do, the mass went up the river and then turned around and came back to greet us. Suddenly it got very dark. Gypsy’s large bow was diving down into big waves that washed over the deck and off the stern. The wind reached sixty miles per hour. As we later learned, its force picked up a wheelbarrow in someone’s yard.

We knew there were shallow areas around us, but with no lighted buoys, no GPS, and no visible landmarks, we were blind and navigated largely by luck. There were two times in my life when I’ve been so scared that my knees shook; one was that July night on Gypsy. I’d like to say that this was the last mistake of its kind I’ve made in boating, but it actually took several similar incidents over the years to make a lasting impression.

I happen to be fascinated with shipwrecks. In my research, I’ve found that a lack of understanding of weather-related consequences, and the failure to allow for adequate passage time and a safe weather window, is reasons for many of them. Three such wrecks happened in the past year alone.

S/V Maybe Tomorrow is the most recent example of a catastrophe caused by misjudging time and weather. In this case, the captain of a thirty-foot sailboat thought he could outrun Hurricane Irene from Portsmouth, Virginia to Annapolis, Maryland. He left on a Friday night. The hurricane struck on Saturday, and the boat and its liveaboard couple ended up in the surf on the shore of Ocean View Beach, near Norfolk, Virginia.

Last March a 19 year old, along with two inexperienced crew, took his father’s 48-foot steel schooner, S/V Le Papillon, on a joy ride from Baltimore, Maryland to Portland, Maine. In New Jersey, Le Papillon ran into shoals in Great Egg Harbor Inlet, a dangerous inlet in the best of weather conditions. As described by observers, on that day no one in his/her right mind would have attempted that passage (later in the journey the boat ended up on the shore near the village of Saltaire, on Fire Island, NY, after the crew reportedly became seasick and went below to sleep).

Yet another recent tragedy was the sinking of S/V Rule 62 in the Bahamas last November; it loss associated with stormy weather conditions.

The Lesson

The requirement that we leave enough time to travel is not limited to boating. Unfortunately, it appears also not to be instinctive. In our rush-rush society, we’re always cutting things short, and living in some dream world where things don’t need the real time they take.

After forty years of sailing, I learned not to mess with Mother Weather. She is the first three things I consider before making any passage by boat.

Editors Note: Vicki Lathom and her partner Barry Miller are currently en route to the Abacos, Bahamas and plan to spend the winter living aboard S/V Cantabile, their 43 foot Irwin Ketch. NFTB looks forward Vicki’s winter 2012 cruising updates. A version of this article first appeared in the travel blog Milliverstravels.

Review of iPhone/Smartphone Camera Lenses

Review of iPhone/Smartphone Camera Lenses

What camera do you generally use to photograph shipmates? For many of us the most

Cabin photo using standard iPhone lens

readily available camera, regardless of location, is an iPhone or other smartphone. Have you wished for a lens that is wide enough to include a cockpit filled of guests, or a party in the cabin below? Until recently the perfect shot required the types of wide-angle or fisheye lenses available only for larger, traditional cameras.  Today you can simply snap additional lenses onto your phone’s camera.

While several manufacturers produce miniature lenses for smartphones, NFTB chose to test a set sold by PhotoJoJo. We ordered three lenses ($50 total) from the on-line retailer, and received them within a week.  The lenses came with lens covers and several tiny magnetic

Cabin photo with wide angle iPhone lens

rings, one side of which sticks with adhesive to the smartphone (or iPad). Below are photos taken from an iPhone without an additional lens, and the same shots using a wide angle and fisheye lens. A test of telephoto attachments is planned for an upcoming issue.

These lenses are quite sturdy and store easily in any pocket. The magnetic rings attach easily to a smartphone or iPad. In addition to generic magnetic adapters, we were sent one attachment ring specially designed to fit an iPhone without covering its flash. Extra iPhone rings are available upon request. The lenses all snap firmly into place and remain remarkably attached until they are intentionally removed.

Cabin photo with iPhone fisheye lens

Smartphone lenses provide onboard images that were, until recently, the purview of only true camera aficionados.  They are easily stored, inexpensive, and work as advertised. The wide angle and fisheye variety are particularly useful in small spaces, and will be appreciated when taking photos aboard boats.

The PhotoJoJo wide angle smartphone camera lens

An added smartphone lens in action

Wide angle (WA), Fisheye (FE) and Telephoto (2X) lenses are easily stored and carried

Review of Three Men In A Boat By Jerome K. Jerome

Review of Three Men In A Boat

By Jerome K. Jerome

A recent Nation Public Radio program discussed several books that its award-winning authors described as the best books they ever read. The book  that caught my attention, of course, was Three Men In a Boat. Reviewer Julia Stuart commented “Can the mishaps of three seriously misguided Victorian gentlemen still provoke laughter? More than 120 years after its first edition, Jerome K. Jerome’s classic caper, Three Men in a Boat, is still a delightful read”. We most certainly agree.

Three Men In a Boat is available at no charge from iTunes and Kindle. Read it on your laptop, iPad or Android portable device. Project Gutenberg (www.Gutenberg.org) made this possible as part of its goal to digitize books that are no longer copyright protected in the US.

This fictional novel follows three men, and a dog, on their one-week English boating adventure aboard a double-sculling skiff. The book is delightfully funny and filled with the sights, sounds, smells, feels, tastes and thoughts experienced by the skiff’s crew. In a nutshell, Jerome manages to laughingly present the timeless challenges and triumphs of boating in a way that has successfully spanned two centuries of boating. True to its title, Three Men In a Boat introduces the reader to three remarkable characters, to boating, and to a small vessel they call home.

As the book is no longer copyright protected in the US, I will take the liberty of presenting several of my favorite portions of the story for your enjoyment. While sharing these passages may appear to some as potentially diminishing the reading experience, trust me. There is much more to laugh at and to appreciate. What follows below will do nothing more than whet your appetite for great reading.

Jerome on a boating vacation:

“I objected to the sea trip strongly. A sea trip does you good when you are going to have a couple of months of it, but, for a week, it is wicked. You start on Monday with the idea implanted in your bosom that you are going to enjoy yourself. You wave an airy adieu to the boys on shore, light your biggest pipe, and swagger about the deck as if you were Captain Cook, Sir Francis Drake, and Christopher Columbus all rolled into one. On Tuesday, you wish you hadn’t come. On Wednesday, Thursday, and Friday, you wish you were dead. On Saturday, you are able to swallow a little beef tea, and to sit up on deck, and answer with a wan, sweet smile when kind-hearted people ask you how you feel now. On Sunday, you begin to walk about again, and take solid food. And on Monday morning, as, with your bag and umbrella in your hand, you stand by the gunwale, waiting to step ashore, you begin to thoroughly like it.”

Jerome on provisioning:

“Throw the lumber over, man! Let your boat of life be light, packed with only what you need – a homely home and simple pleasures, one or two friends, worth the name, someone to love and someone to love you, a cat, a dog, and a pipe or two, enough to eat and enough to wear, and a little more than enough to drink; for thirst is a dangerous thing.”

Jerome on pets, particularly a dog named Montmorency:

“Montmorency was in it all, of course. Montmorency’s ambition in life, is to get in the way and be sworn at. If he can squirm in anywhere where he particularly is not wanted, and be a perfect nuisance, and make people mad, and have things thrown at his head, then he feels his day has not been wasted.

To get somebody to stumble over him, and curse him steadily for an hour, is his highest aim and object; and, when he has succeeded in accomplishing this, his conceit becomes quite unbearable.”

Jerome on riparian rights:

“The selfishness of the riparian proprietor grows with every year. If these men had their way they would close the river Thames altogether. They actually do this along the minor tributary streams and in the backwaters. They drive posts into the bed of the stream, and draw chains across from bank to bank, and nail huge notice-boards on every tree. The sight of those notice-boards rouses every evil instinct in my nature. I feel I want to tear each one down, and hammer it over the head of the man who put it up, until I have killed him, and then I would bury him, and put the board up over the grave as a tombstone.

I mentioned these feelings of mine to Harris, and he said he had them worse than that. He said he not only felt he wanted to kill the man who caused the board to be put up, but that he should like to slaughter the whole of his family and all his friends and relations, and then burn down his house. This seemed to me to be going too far, and I said so to Harris; but he answered:

“Not a bit of it. Serve `em all jolly well right, and I’d go and sing comic songs on the ruins.”

I was vexed to hear Harris go on in this blood-thirsty strain. We never ought to allow our instincts of justice to degenerate.”

Jerome on misleading charts (and the frustration of a non-existent waterway lock):

“Wallingford lock!” they answered. “Lor’ love you, sir, that’s been done away with for over a year. There ain’t no Wallingford lock now, sir. You’re close to Cleeve now. Blow me tight if `ere ain’t a gentleman been looking for Wallingford lock, Bill!”

I had never thought of that. I wanted to fall upon all their necks and bless them; but the stream was running too strong just there to allow of this, so I had to content myself with mere cold-sounding words of gratitude.

We thanked them over and over again, and we said it was a lovely night, and we wished them a pleasant trip, and, I think, I invited them all to come and spend a week with me, and my cousin said her mother would be so pleased to see them. And we sang the soldiers’ chorus out of FAUST, and got home in time for supper, after all.”

Jerome on assembling a canvas canopy:

“We took up the hoops, and began to drop them into the sockets placed for them. You would not imagine this to be dangerous work; but, looking back now, the wonder to me is that any of us are alive to tell the tale. They were not hoops, they were demons. First they would not fit into their sockets at all, and we had to jump on them, and kick them, and hammer at them with the boat-hook; and, when they were in, it turned out that they were the wrong hoops for those particular sockets, and they had to come out again.

But they would not come out, until two of us had gone and struggled with them for five minutes, when they would jump up suddenly, and try and throw us into the water and drown us. They had hinges in the middle, and, when we were not looking, they nipped us with these hinges in delicate parts of the body; and, while we were wrestling with one side of the hoop, and endeavouring to persuade it to do its duty, the other side would come behind us in a cowardly manner, and hit us over the head.”

Jerome on observing stars from the water:

“It was a glorious night. The moon had sunk, and left the quiet earth alone with the stars. It seemed as if, in the silence and the hush, while we her children slept, they were talking with her, their sister – conversing of mighty mysteries in voices too vast and deep for childish human ears to catch the sound.

They awe us, these strange stars, so cold, so clear. We are as children whose small feet have strayed into some dim-lit temple of the god they have been taught to worship but know not; and, standing where the echoing dome spans the long vista of the shadowy light, glance up, half hoping, half afraid to see some awful vision hovering there.

And yet it seems so full of comfort and of strength, the night. In its great presence, our small sorrows creep away, ashamed. The day has been so full of fret and care, and our hearts have been so full of evil and of bitter thoughts, and the world has seemed so hard and wrong to us. Then Night, like some great loving mother, gently lays her hand upon our fevered head, and turns our little tear-stained faces up to hers, and smiles; and, though she does not speak, we know what she would say, and lay our hot flushed cheek against her bosom, and the pain is gone.”

Jerome on early morning swimming:

“Then we pulled up the canvas, and all four of us poked our heads out over the off-side, and looked down at the water and shivered. The idea, overnight, had been that we should get up early in the morning, fling off our rugs and shawls, and, throwing back the canvas, spring into the river with a joyous shout, and revel in a long delicious swim. Somehow, now the morning had come, the notion seemed less tempting. The water looked damp and chilly: the wind felt cold.

“Well, who’s going to be first in?” said Harris at last.

There was no rush for precedence. George settled the matter so far as he was concerned by retiring into the boat and pulling on his socks.”

Jerome on sailing, and wind:

“A stiffish breeze had sprung up – in our favour, for a wonder; for, as a rule on the river, the wind is always dead against you whatever way you go. It is against you in the morning, when you start for a day’s trip, and you pull a long distance, thinking how easy it will be to come back with the sail. Then, after tea, the wind veers round, and you have to pull hard in its teeth all the way home.

When you forget to take the sail at all, then the wind is consistently in your favour both ways. But there! this world is only a probation, and man was born to trouble as the sparks fly upward.

This evening, however, they had evidently made a mistake, and had put the wind round at our back instead of in our face. We kept very quiet about it, and got the sail up quickly before they found it out, and then we spread ourselves about the boat in thoughtful attitudes, and the sail bellied out, and strained, and grumbled at the mast, and the boat flew.

There is no more thrilling sensation I know of than sailing. It comes as near to flying as man has got to yet – except in dreams. The wings of the rushing wind seem to be bearing you onward, you know not where. You are no longer the slow, plodding, puny thing of clay, creeping tortuously upon the ground; you are a part of Nature! Your heart is throbbing against hers! Her glorious arms are round you, raising you up against her heart! Your spirit is at one with hers; your limbs grow light! The voices of the air are singing to you. The earth seems far away and little; and the clouds, so close above your head, are brothers, and you stretch your arms to them.”

Jerome, again, on riparian rights:

“Of course, its entrance is studded with posts and chains, and surrounded with notice boards, menacing all kinds of torture, imprisonment, and death to everyone who dares set scull upon its waters – I wonder some of these riparian boors don’t claim the air of the river and threaten everyone with forty shillings fine who breathes it – but the posts and chains a little skill will easily avoid; and as for the boards, you might, if you have five minutes to spare, and there is nobody about, take one or two of them down and throw them into the river.”

Jerome on searching for an anchored boat on a nasty night:

“It was a dismal night, coldish, with a thin rain falling; and as we trudged through the dark, silent fields, talking low to each other, and wondering if we were going right or not, we thought of the cosy boat, with the bright light streaming through the tight-drawn canvas; of Harris and Montmorency, and the whisky, and wished that we were there.

We conjured up the picture of ourselves inside, tired and a little hungry; of the gloomy river and the shapeless trees; and, like a giant glow-worm underneath them, our dear old boat, so snug and warm and cheerful. We could see ourselves at supper there, pecking away at cold meat, and passing each other chunks of bread; we could hear the cheery clatter of our knives, the laughing voices, filling all the space, and overflowing through the opening out into the night. And we hurried on to realize the vision.”

Jerome on “experienced” boaters, and boating stories:

“I notice that most of the old river hands are similarly retiring, whenever there is any stiff pulling to be done. You can always tell the old river hand by the way in which he stretches himself out upon the cushions at the bottom of the boat, and encourages the rowers by telling them anecdotes about the marvellous feats he performed last season.”

Summary:

This book is a timeless, delightful read for any boater in any season of life. You may want to read it at times when laughter will not bother others. If the test of time has value to you, then I recommend you download Three Men in a Boat and join the crew of a small sailing skiff on their trip up the river.

Hope on the Horizon for a Safe Raw Bar

Hope on the Horizon for a Safe Raw Bar

 

Raw Bar deliveries offer both delight and risk for anchored boaters

If you don’t enjoy raw oysters or clams, then you’ve at least been tempted to try some while cruising. Floating raw bars are notoriously available up and down the coasts, and boaters often enjoy these delicacies at anchor. Unfortunately, some of those taking part will inevitably become ill from a ubiquitous virus that was first discovered in Connecticut shellfish in 1977. Norwalk virus was initially associated only with raw oysters and clams, but soon became famous as a cause of illness aboard cruise ships. Now it is understood that Norwalk virus infection is a leading cause of foodborne illness in the US.

People contract Norwalk virus infection by swallowing food or water that has been contaminated from an infected person. Shellfish become contaminated via stool from sick food handlers, or when shellfish beds are exposed to raw sewage. Contaminated water, ice, eggs, salad ingredients, and ready-to-eat foods are all potential sources of infection.

The signs and symptoms of Norwalk Virus infection include nausea, vomiting, diarrhea, and stomach cramping. The illness is usually limited to 2-3 days, however severe illness requiring hospitalization can occur.

The only way to avoid Norwalk virus related illness is to avoid raw or undercooked shellfish, to thoroughly wash all food during preparation, and to avoid restaurants or prepared meals…not easy to do. Many of us settle for avoiding raw shellfish.

For raw bar lovers, help may be on the way. Recent tests at the Baylor College of Medicine in Houston, reported in the December 8, 2011 New England Journal of Medicine, suggest that a new Norwalk virus vaccine:

• Reduces the number of people who become ill by 20%
• Reduces gastroenteritis (diarrhea and nausea) by half

The effectiveness of the vaccine, its duration of protection, the ideal dosage, the number of doses required, and other aspects of a practical vaccine are still being studied.

Until an effective Norwalk virus vaccine becomes available we recommend that readers understand the risks of eating raw shellfish. Up to 10% of commercial shellfish beds are reported to be infected with the virus, so the risk is significant. Thoroughly cooking shellfish destroys the virus. As for the risk of infection aboard cruise ships and in restaurants, we are left to rely on the consciences of kitchen chefs and managers, and to local departments of health, to keep us safe.

If you have questions regarding Norwalk virus you are invited to contact Dr. Stuart Hochron at (732) 636-6622, or visit his medical website at www.StuartHochronMD.com.

No Moorings at Cuttyhunk

No Moorings at Cuttyhunk

“Wait, what did you say?” queried the voice at the other end of the phone. “Did you say someone is anchored at Cuttyhunk now? It’s winter!” So began my explanation of the photos.

Chris Melo, marine architect, NFTB reader and contributor, and liveaboard boater, sent the accompanying photos during his December 2011 cruise to Cutttyhunk, MA.

On the phone with me was Paul Grecay, Ph.D., professor of marine sciences and NFTB advisor, about to answer my question regarding Chris’ subjects. Pictured in the photos were rather large grey and black marine mammals, obviously enjoying Cuttyhunk Harbor off-season.

“Without looking at the photos I can say with 99% certainty that they are Harbor Seals” Paul declared. As our expert was so certain I’ll leave it to him to correct his conclusion with a post-publication comment, if necessary.

Those strange, tall, looped, steel moorings are nowhere to be found. The harbor has reverted to a pristine condition.

We appreciate the opportunity to visit Cuttyhunk, one of our favorite cruising destinations, as it lies in wait for spring. Thanks Chris.

The entrance to Cuttyhunk Harbor off-season

The guardians of Cuttyhunk Harbor, Winter 2011

A single cruiser at anchor, off-season, in Cuttyhunk, MA

Winter Beckons By Renee Manahan

Winter Beckons

By Renee Manahan

Photo by Glen Huszar, New Jersey

Her January cocoon

Drew us from the path

Easily travelled

.

Straining at her lines

Winter’s icy breath

Lashed our faces

.

Nearly alone amid darkening days

Her light warmed

Our frigid night

.

Her gangway beckoned

An offer of refuge and restoration

Her stem unbowed

.

Searching for a reason to go aboard

Knowing well that could change

Everything

.

Struggling with faith’s leap

My gaze returned to her side

A moment, and an eternity, away