Monday, June 13, 2016

The Thunder Rolls and NNECS Sails Out

...intermittent thunder
Lets us know

The gods are arriving,
One valley over.

(from the poem "New Hampshire", by Howard Moss)

The Summer Triangle is back in the sky and the Northern New England Circumnavigation Society meets again and rides forth into Maine's blue water and June fogs.  The inland storms do battle in their high aeries and we watch from our fortress island.  It's good to be back on the water for real.

Oh, we go to ERICA'S again, which means lobster heaven.  Scallop heaven.  Fried Oysters, anyone? How about the CRABSTER? 3oz of Lobster, 1oz of Crab, 4oz of Perfection.  One of the very best lobster shacks in Maine. ERICA'S is small boat friendly!  Cash only.  

GreenMountain John is now CHEF JUAN

For the weak of remembering NNECS is:
Sea Pearl 21 SCOUT
Sea Pearl 21 INDIGO
Fran├žois Vivier Ilur WAXWING
Herreshoff Coquina SLIFPER


WE MEET

I AM A CRABBY RULER OF THIS ISLAND

WE MEET AGAIN

THE COMMODORE JUMPS WAVES FOR BREAKFAST

CHEF JUAN SAILS INTO THE FOG
THE COMMODORE SAILS INTO THE FOG


I don't sail into the fog and get a nice tan

Chef Juan took this picture


We raft to converse, eat, and drink.
MERRINESS TOO.
I take SLIFPER ouf for a ride and the Commodore
foints the way so I don't hif rocks
 
FRIENDS

CHEF JUAN COOKS ANOTHER MEAN MEAL FOR US
TWO-BURNER STYLE
LIKE A BOSS


DAY TWO

CHEF JUAN and WAXWING under the mackerel sky

The Commodore rolls in NOT-SO-HOT

BREAKFAST TIME, WHERE'S THE SUN?!

Drying clothes can only mean one thing:
IT RAINED A LOT

ERICA'S SEAFOOD
The one, the only.

HEADING TO JEWELL

THE THUNDER ROLLS IN

NNECS rows into Jewell for exploration

IN WHICH CHEF JUAN SETS UP AN OUTHAUL WITH MUCH SUCCESS

Partnership and community building

Setting the anchor

The Commodore and Chef Juan work together while
Cap'n Jon wanders off at a critical time
I think he's looking at rocks.

SUCCESS

CHEF JUAN walks through the birch grove of his distant dreams
while birdsong pulls him onwards into the forest
with the crashing sea around and the thunder above
we all walk the lonely paths through our forests of birch and fern

The next valley over

The Commodore just really needs to get it together

I (author) use my new precision engineered German umbrella while everyone
laughs at me from their tents. Some buddies these guys are! Jeez-O.
The umbrella was great, though.

DAY THREE

Intrepid Readers may remember my fondness for SOFT-BOILED EGGS
I believe the art of cooking the perfect soft-boiled egg has skipped a generation.
As it is with many things, I remain an anomaly to my age group.
I cook damn good soft-boiled eggs. Ignore the sand that got into it.

NNECS rides out of Jewell and for home

Chef Juan took this picture

Cap'n Jon took this picture of SCOUT CRUSHING IT 
SCOUT jumps waves for breakfast too!
Chef Juan took this picture


INDIGO CRUSHING IT

WAXWING CRUSHING IT

Kinda-lunch on Whaleboat Island
We should have had lunch but didn't
Stupid.

The most heroic picture of Cap'n Jon EVAR.
I mean, c'mon guys, is he not being SUPER MANLY right now, or what?
He's like a steel-worker.
We towed the two other boats back up the Royal River to the ramp due to a 20kt+ wind blowing straight down the river, and a contrary tide.  The water looks smooth because there is no fetch.  It was blowing hard here. We could have easily spent the night at the mouth but some of us (me) had to go home, so we fired up the Iron Mizzens. 

I tow the Commodore.
I will say, his sailing into my precarious position close to the shore combined with
my tow-line throwing were so perfect, it was like we were sailors, or something.
Had to see it. Seamanship pays off.
THE END FOR NOW, THE SUMMER IS YOUNG

Thursday, June 9, 2016

The Seal Says, "ART-ART"

GIS Amateur Style loves to follow the wonderfully chill blog of Trevor over at "eh...whatever." It's a beguiling compendium of middle-America rustica swarming with boats, bikes, pipes, guns, camping, leathercraft, other miscellany, and finally-- art.

Recently, I participated in a call-to-action by Trevor and donated money to a local family near him that was dealing with tragedy. To spur interest for this local cause, he offered a coffee related painting.  I asked for one of Cap'n Jon and his Phoenix III, TWO HEARTED-- but painted out of coffee-- which is something that Trevor is famous for! Very, very groovy.

Cap'n Jon sailing through the Milky Way of his caffeine-fueled dreams.
Free parking to those that correctly deduce the location on the map!


Additionally, and without request...!!!
Woah, Trevor, Woah!

SCOUT in all her glory charging hard,
who is that nobleman at the helm?

Absolutely slamming job, I say, slamming.

THANK YOU TO TREVOR from the entire staff here at GIS Amateur Style & tSP21T

Wednesday, May 18, 2016

Duckpunting HO! MRS MUMBLES on the loose again!

This is going to be very straightforward.  Any Intrepid Reader knows exactly how this is probably going to go, and I assure you that this crazy blog won't disappoint. I KNOW you've been waiting all year with heart-in-throat and I have pictures of sure proof that all is still right with the world: The sun still shines in your portion of the cerulean sky and we are not part of an extraterrestrial hologram.  Breathe that sigh of relief, Intrepid Reader, tuck your children into bed with joy, enjoy that whiskey by the evening fire, and rejoice! The Cold War is over!

And Dory Dan's duckpunt still leaks!

We gather to sail south, towards the Clamming Grounds.
This year, I brought my hypothermia kit.
Winds were honking when we got to the ramp, I'd say gusting to 20kts, a little more than we were expecting or asked for.  However, champs like us see this as an opportunity to test our mettle against the elements.  What are a couple of New Englanders like us afraid of?  We are sailors and gritty, and like it cold and wet. Our ancestors had it worse. Full speed ahead!  I brought my hypothermia dry bag in case I dumped it and went into the drink.  I'm glad, because I forgot my drysuit at home.  Dory Dan forgot his bailing bucket at home.  This induced a moment of extreme incredulous in me for as we may remember... the first sail of the season for his duckpunt usually means she has to "take-up" a bit.

He looked at me, I looked at him, and I promptly poured the rest of the contents of a windshield-wiper fluid bottle into a spare nalgene rolling around in my car (I'm not going to waste wiper fluid, I come from a long line of frugal Yankees) and then I cut the bottom off.  While doing this, Dan told me about the slick-seaming he did and how he left the punt outside this winter so it shouldn't be AS BAD AS LAST YEAR, etc., and then added: I have my clamming bucket, but it has holes in it, and other such gems of conversation. Anyway, I made the Instant Bailer, boom! This saved the expedition from more lateness to the Clamming Grounds, as the tide was about to turn in but a few moments and we had little to lose.

I sped off, making good time. The punt is exhilarating downwind! There was a small mudflat to my starboard and I put in briefly to re-arrange my living situation.  Dory Dan was close behind, charging hard.

Why so stern heavy Dan?

SAY IT AIN'T SO, DORY DAN! SAY IT AIN'T SO!
check out bailer in aft cabin

YES! The picture that begins the season for realz! DORY DAN BAILING HIS PUNT!
History! Intrepid Readers rejoice!
"I can see it coming in through the planks," he says!
Tumultuous crowds line the banks of the marsh to ogle!
Mayor proclaims May 17 as Dory Dan Bailing Day!
"It's coming in as fast as I can bail it out!" he mutters to himself!

Dory Dan finally southbound--
...still bailing...
Chasing Dory Dan downind. What a day! What weather! 

I hug a mud flat at machspeed-loony and watch the bottom go by, scant inches away.
This is sailing a duckpunt, in all it's glory. What fun!
For the record, this was a very difficult picture to take.
We arrived at the Clamming Grounds just as the other clammer-types were cleaning up their gear and heading home.  Dan anchored his punt and starting clawing away at the mud, making excellent time and many large holes.  This guy is Mr. Muscles, fo' sho'.  We had to quickly retreat into the middle of the flat as Dan was forced by the tide to leave behind one hole after another. Three holes he dug, in quick succession, throwing clams into his bucket. I watched the boats, now in the distance, slowly float and then become isolated beings in a sea of water.  As the tides closed over the mudflat, I looked around myself in a sweeping circle while standing in ankle-deep water, thousands of feet from the nearest shore and surrounded by the broad blue expanse.  The sun began to set beyond the clouds with golden fingers flecking the virgin green grass on the marshes.  Silence except for the wind washing across the sound.  This was certainly a moment of reckoning, of isolation, of mortality, as the water rose to my boot tops.  The siren song of the sea, I suppose, or something else.  So close to humanity and yet in that moment so far, far away.  'Twas a beautiful moment.

Back to the boats, and the long slog upwind to the ramp.


Dory Dan clams in the distance

MRS MUMBLES and Dan's Punt get cozy. They make a good punting team!

HUMOR!
HAHAHA!




New England Sea Captain to his bones.


Dory Dan leaves the punt to take up over the week.

What joy, this duckpunting.
And, may I say with some humbleness, A GREAT LUNCH THE NEXT DAY!

New England Life 4EVAH