On Sun, 22 Jan 2006 01:56:05 GMT, "John Cairns"
wrote:

http://tinylink.com/?uvfnK9CZdI

I think I've told the story before of the tragic figure of Marsha. Of
course, John always asks crew to fill out a sailing resume. Marsha had come
down to Lauderdale several days early to look at offshore boats, I believe
she mentioned looking at a boat that John had written a "Used Boat Notebook"
column on, quoting the owner as part of the article. Marsha had traveled
extensively during her lifetime, courtesy of a handsome divorce settlement
with her ex, and she had done some sailing, was heavily involved-at least on
the social end-with one of the clubs in Chicago, she had hosted the Pardeys,
blah, blah. She had a lot of stories to tell, but the truth of the matter
came out when we left Miami for San Sal-if she ever had done any sailing, it
wasn't recently, and possibly never offshore, maybe not even coastal. She
disappeared into her cabin, basically didn't stand any of her watches. At
San Sal, we had to drag the boat right to next to the dock so that she could
debark, the swell making it imprudent to tie the boat snug to the dock. And
of course, when we left San Sal to return to Lauderdale and ran into the big
wind and swells, she disappeared entirely, not appearing until well into the
following day when the seas and wind had subsided. She mentioned that she
was again planning on doing the rounds in Lauderdale-a great place to shop
boats, BTW. Couldn't help but thinking at the time, what an asshole. I know
firsthand what a pita it can be to sell a boat that you own or are selling
for a living, this lady was looking at boats that she would never be buying,
wasting everyone's time. I think on some level she honestly believed that
she was legitimately shopping for a boat that she intended to buy. Oh well,
takes all kinds.

John Cairns


On the flip side of Marsha is Blake H.

I was recruited for the Jacksonville to Key West leg of a trip to move
a friends 44' partially finished pilothouse ketch from the Chesapeake
to Pensacola. There were six of us on the crew and I was paired with
the only novice, Blake H., a young guy in his early twenties. We were
watch teams of two, four on eight off around the clock.

Weather was terrible from Jacksonville to about Miami and Blake, who
had never sailed before was prone to violent sea sickness. Our night
watch was eight to midnight and we devided the four hours into
alternating 30 minutes of helm duty. Owner/Captains watch procedure
had the senior guy on watch (me in this case) go below immediately
after helm duty and plot a position on the chart so we were never more
than thirty minutes from knowing where we were.

Blake spent every minute of the watch that he wasn't on the helm
hanging over the rail, puking. Each time before I went below, I asked
if he could just give me five minutes to get the plot and then I'd
come back up and take the helm back. He refused to do that and stood
every minute of his helm time although sick as a dog. And it was
rough helm time, the boat, a custom ferro cement, had a serious design
flaw that resulted in the worst weather helm I had ever experienced
sailing. He also responded to any and all trim commands when not on
the helm.

Fortunately, things got better for Blake when we got in Hawks Channel.
Conditions improved and he mostly got over his seasickness. But I
have great admiration for the guy for going through several days of
hell to live up to the responsibility he signed up for.

Every once in a while I lift one to Blake.

Frank