Recovering a lost anchor

15.14 in a, about, anchor, Boat Plans, lost, offshore, out, recovering, sailing, sorting, the, truth, urethanes

IF YOU WANT to call yourself a sailor, you really should know how to recover a lost anchor. Luckily for you, I know how. I found the instructions among a bunch of old magazine clippings that had fallen down behind my desk. So here, in the words of a very old salt, is the way they used to do it in the days before you could effect a quick and painless anchor replacement by flashing a credit card in a West Marine store:

“You will need two boats, an oarsman in each. Fasten a weight to the middle of a long, heavy line to keep it down; also, position weights about 10 feet from the middle.

“Fasten the ends of the line to the two boats, coiling it loosely in each. Row to windward of the estimated position of the anchor, then row the boats away from each other to run out the line so it will be stretched just off the bottom. Row the boats down toward the estimated position of the anchor.

“When the bight of the line catches on the anchor’s fluke, cross the boats to take a round turn around the fluke. Make a running bowline at the end of another line, around the drag line, weight it so it sinks, and slip it down. When the bowline is fast to the fluke, pull up the anchor.”

Yeah. Okay. Thanks a lot, old-timer. So where did I put that credit card?

Today’s Thought

The wonder is always new that any sane man can be a sailor.

— Emerson, English Traits

Tailpiece

“How much is a bottle of brandy? It’s my nephew’s birthday and he likes brandy.”
“Well, madam, it depends on the age. Seven-year-old is quite reasonably priced. Ten-year-old costs a bit more. Twelve-year-old can be quite expensive.”
“Gee, that’s terrible. My nephew is 25.”

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Falling down below

06.53 in a, anchor, below, Boat Plans, deck, down, epoxy, falling, lost, my, on, recovering, warfare

THE ESTEEMED early-20th-century boat designer William Atkin once designed for himself a 29-foot wooden sloop that was remarkable in my eyes for one particular thing — she had no companionway steps.

“If you drop down into the cabin of Ben Bow (and you will have to drop down because there is no companion ladder) you will find the bunks aft, then the galley, then two pipe berths, with a water closet near the foot of the mast,” Atkin wrote in his book Of Yachts and Men.

“As I have just mentioned, in Ben Bow we do not have a companion ladder. Sort of a man’s boat she is. We are not yet so old or stiff as to be unequal to scrambling in or out her cabin.

“Just two steps does it, one being a projection shod with a bit of brass on the bulkhead, the second being a corner of the starboard locker top. And so we are rid of a ladder, a piece of furniture which is always, I feel, too much in the way.

“The ladies? Well, God bless ’em, we might lower them away on the end of a rope. Somehow women generally do not love boats. Think they are a little jealous of them, just a little. Or perhaps their natures are too much alike . . . uncertain sort’a, and feminine, and — well I suppose I shall have to admit it — lovely.

“The cabin has among other features, one wide berth on the port side set high from the floor and with large lockers underneath. Even our old friend Abel Brown, who tells racy tales about berths, cannot quarrel much with the dimensions of this one; ‘big enough for perfect comfort under any situation,’ he might have remarked.”

It was surely a strange aberration that made Atkin omit a companionway ladder on his own boat. It wasn’t something he normally did on the hundreds of other boats he designed. It’s true that the darned ladder does take up precious space on a small boat, but if you’re a man who wants to share the pleasure of sailing with a wife or lady friend it is surely an act of gallantry to provide decent access from the cabin to the cockpit. Sort of like flinging your cloak into a puddle, so Her Majesty can keep her dainty slippers dry. Only more permanent. And a definite investment in marital bliss.

Today’s Thought

The hardest step is that over the threshold.

— James Howell,  Proverbs. No. 7

Tailpiece

Groucho Marx once opened a drawer by mistake in a friend’s home. He found a Colt automatic pistol surrounded by several small pearl-handled revolvers.

“My God,” he said, “This gat has had gittens.”

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Wheres the promised paradise

08.29 in a, anchor, boat, Boat Plans, christmas, for, lost, paradise, presents, promised, recovering, the, wheres, your

GLOBAL WARMING can’t be all that bad, can it? Can you imagine what Puget Sound, the San Juans, and the Canadian Gulf Islands would be like if we suddenly inherited the climate now enjoyed by Southern California? Sunshine, warm winds, and warm seas are the only ingredients missing from this paradise for cruising boaters.

A little global warming around here would transform our lives. Boating people from all over the world would flock to our palm-fringed shores, white beaches, and warm turquoise water.

Women would be dressing in skimpy sun dresses and displaying those long tanned legs so beloved in California,  and I’d be able to trade in my fur-lined underpants for snazzy new Hawaiian bathing drawers.

The yacht charter business would boom beyond belief, creating jobs and prosperity that would surge right through our economy. Western Washington’s families would flourish in a brand-new American dream. The color would return to children’s faces. Their little bellies would be full, and their happy laughter would become a hallmark of the new, beloved global warming. Tourist dollars would overflow our coffers, and no longer would our poor State Governor have to sob his eyes out over drastic cuts in essential services.

So c’mon you guys, pony up. You promised us global warming. All we’ve got so far is gale-force winds and buckets of freezing rain. Where the hell is global warming?

Today’s Thought

Global warming — at least the modern nightmare vision — is a myth. I am sure of it and so are a growing number of scientists. But what is really worrying is that the worlds politicians and policy makers are not.

— Professor David Bellamy, environmentalist

Tailpiece

Don’t worry if your job is small

And your successes few . . .                                        

Remember that the mighty oak

Was once a nut like you.

(Drop by every Monday, Wednesday, Friday, for a new Mainly about Boats column.)

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