Tracks
Alluring Ilur
On Sunday morning, many with long drives hauled out. A few of us, locals or those staying over, headed out to take advantage of the great weather with another sail. Chris H came all the way from Pittsburg, so he was staying another day to make it worth the trip. He invited me to join him on his Vivier Ilur Clarissa. Dennis K got a ride on Randy C’s William Garden designed Eel, Winkle. Harris and Barbara led the way in their new catboat, Mariah, just delivered mid-summer.
It was a real treat for me to be able to lay in the boat and let Chris do all the work, while I enjoyed the view. It let me keep both hands on the camera for a change. And what a great day for it. Beautiful boats and beautiful weather.
All three boats danced around each other all afternoon. Sometimes coming together close enough to chat, then veering off to points on the horizon. With the chuckle of water on a lapstrake hull tapping time.
As usual, most of our views of Harris were of his transom. He can’t bear to slow down enough for us to get close.
I shot a lot of video. Something to savor over the coming winter.
Sunset Sail on a Sakonnet 23
Between the cookout and campfires, Jim A took four of us for a sunset sail on his family’s Sakonnet 23. What a sweet boat, a real thoroughbred designed by Joel White.
We motored out the little harbor, through a neck of rock jetties, just as the sun went down. Clear of the channel, we quickly raised sail and cut off the clattering outboard. Suddenly silence like a sigh of relief as she eased into a light breeze. We sauntered across the water in the twilight, taking turns at the tiller, laughing and telling stories.
With the last light fading, we reluctantly turned back, only to discover the outboard motor had other ideas. Wouldn’t catch no matter how hard we yanked on it, not even a cough. It was like some jokester had poured a couple to shots of scotch in the tank. Matt tossed out the anchor so we wouldn’t drift into trouble, while we sought the magic combination of curses and hand waving to break the evil spell. This whole episode followed a dozen shared stories of near disasters, all because a motor had failed. Maybe this motor was listening and thought this was a great opportunity to tell its own story. The idea of waiting for a tow, anchored in the channel in the dark, but not our idea of humor. Motors are why we’re sailors, after all.
Eventually, jiggling the choke and throttle, it caught. Relief, anchor weighed, sails dropped, and we motored back down the channel by the light from our phones. No harm no foul, and another story to tell later.
A short video from inside the boat that evening. Lots of laughter and ribbing. A great evening. Hope we get to ride on her again, soon.
Hoisting the Blue Peter
There’s a signal flag that ships hoist in harbor when it’s time for crew to return to the ship. A blue field with a white square in the center, like a cloud in a clear blue sky. For generations it’s been known as the “Blue Peter”, and those who know it by name know it means it’s time to say your goodbyes, time to depart.
We waved farewell to one of our brothers recently. Captain Kirk tacked suddenly away downwind and crossed the bar. He was a generous friend, funny, and thoughtful. We’ll miss him much. He loved our merry band of misfit sailors, and wanted us to remember him with another sail together – at his favorite spot among fast friends on lovely boats. We were happy to oblige.
Around two dozen of us gathered on a beach where the Chickahominy meets the James. We sent some of Kirk’s ashes off on the sea in a little boat of his own, viking style, and went for a sail ourselves
One of my Melonseeds, Aeon, got splashed for the first time this year.
After a big cookout on the beach, many of us returned to campfires and tents to sleep under the trees along the shore of the Chickahominy. Perfect weather, with cool breezes and calls of owls and whippoorwills for lullabies.
Water Music
It’s hit 100 degrees here past several days. And no significant rain for over a month. Everything brown and dry. Worse elsewhere, but not good.
Good time to spend in the river.
Art at Altitude
We recently made a short trip to New Mexico for a family event. I’ll post photos and backstory about that soon, was a great trip. I took a little travel kit of sketchbook and watercolor markers to have something to do during the downtime. A big chunk of downtime is just flights and layovers. Jammed into a tiny seat on a tiny table at 30,000 feet above Louisiana, it had time to do a little study of a winter cattail.
Working from memory is oddly easier than working from a photo. The thing about watercolor is it has a mind of its own and may not want to cooperate. Especially true when you’re still a newbie and don’t know how to predict what will happen, or coerce it to do what you had in mind. But working from memory, you get into a sort of feedback loop with the paint and water and paper. Instead of trying to force it to look like the photo, you get into a conversation with it. Dabble a little pigment and water on the paper, then respond to whatever happens, play off the result and add to that.
Sometimes an accident results in an interesting effect that’s worth amplifying, then following to see where it goes. When you try to reproduce a photo, you can get caught into a frustrating loop, trying to recreate one visual medium with another – but the results are not comparable. It’s a sort of dead end with no exit and no way to backtrack.
I may unhitch my intentions from that mooring and just follow where the wind blows, see where we end up.
Day 5 Watercolor Self-tutoring
Out of order, but time is a construct. Sketchbook study.