Hey Thom,

How have you been up there in the North West?

Eggs seems to sit pretty well for me most of the day,
and unlike high carb diets, I'm not hungry again at
noon. I'm going to have to experiment some more
with these in rough weather.

Bart


On Sun, 9 Nov 2003 08:36:51 -0800 (PST), (Thom
Stewart) wrote:

Doug,

My favorite Rough weather breakfast is the simple fried egg sandwich.
Really rough, "Sailors Eggs." Eggs fried in a piece of Bread with the
center removed, Fried over hard. And; as Scotty say, A good cup of
Instant Coffee!

Ole Thom

DSK wrote , etc etc.

Great story, Bart. How come you didn't keep the off watch below tending a kettle of hot
chocolate or soup? Anything without caffeine... although caffeine can be a Godsend, it makes
seasickness worse IMHO and definitely tends to increase the risk of dehydration.

The boat was not ready for it's upcoming passage. I spent a
little time in the galley looking for food earlier and could
not find anything I wanted to mess with. Nothing was stowed
well, and I figured it would be hard to find anything. I later
found out where some cold cuts were. There were lots of things
that I know were intended for the upcoming ocean passage, so I
was a bit reluctant to start in on "their" supplies. Since I
could do without easily enough, while those supplies might become
lifesafers for the delivery crew later.

In the future, I'll pack my own food supplies. Especially things
that keep well in a seabag like cup-o-soup. I lived on cup-o-soup
during last Decembers delivery up the New Jersey coast last and
it was wonderful in cold weather. In fact, I'd have to say that
it made that portion of the passage fun, and a happy memory.

During 2 on / 2 off watches I think I had a cup of soup on five
consecutive night watches. It helped me keep warm in 41-42 deg
F weather and was not so filling I didn't want more two hours
later. Also, after making it, it took a while to soften up the
noodles. I used the cup for a hand warmer as long as possible
and sipped it very slowly. That soup, checking the radar, and
logging our position, and so forth, took up the first 45 minutes.
I looked forward to soup each watch and was dissapointed when I
finished it.

I like hot chocolate also. Sailing to Hawaii in '97, our
cook would make one huge thermos of it that would last the whole
crew all night, although we ran out after the first week or so.
The substitute, some sort of lame herb tea was unpopular with
everyone, and hardly was touched all night.

I like a diet coke on watch to help stay awake also. I always
carried two cans of soda in my lifejacket cargo pockets. On
that trip, one old salt asked me about all the crap I had
hanging off my lifejacket. The strobe, whistle, compass, knife
and such, did not make nearly as much impression on him as my
carrying a source of water--which was voted the most important
item needed in a liferaft, by those who have been stranded in one.
He had just read a book on the subject, and here I was putting
it into practice, albeit for other reasons.

Also, as a dinghy sailor you know that if you fall in the water
with a water bottle, it doesn't weigh anything, so I think making
a habit of carrying water or something like that, especially in a
resealable container is a smart move.

UNLESS you have a full bladder like I did tonight watching Master
and Commander. I didn't want to miss a minute of the movie and
I'm grateful I'm not now in the hospital with a burst bladder.
The movie was fabulous and very realistic, although I found it
was based on one of the later books, not volume I.

Bart

Maybe I missed it, but, where did you shove off from?

Scotty

"Bart Senior" bartsenior wrote in message
...
Here is a forecast from a few days back:

Forecast as of 9:00 PM EST on November 2, 2003

snip

Mon Night... SW wind 10 to 15 kt becoming variable around 10 kt. Seas
1 to 2 ft.
Tue... Variable wind around 10 kt. Seas around 1 ft. ====This one!
Tue Night... S wind 10 to 15 kt. Seas around 1 ft.
Wed... S wind 10 to 15 kt...becoming SW and increasing to 15 to 20 kt
in the afternoon. Seas building to 2 to 3 ft. Chance of showers and
fog with vsby 1 to 3 nm at times.
snip

Here is the forecast posted some hours after we ducking into Milford
Harbor.

Forecast as of 9:10 PM EST on November 4, 2003

Small Craft Advisory

Overnight Tuesday... E wind around 20 kt...diminishing to around 15
kt. Seas 2 to 4 ft...subsiding to around 2 ft late. Chance of drizzle
or rain along with areas of fog reducing vsby to 1 to 3 nm at times.
Wed... Se wind around 15 kt...becoming SW 15 to 20 kt during the
afternoon. Seas around 2 ft. Chance of rain or drizzle in the
morning...then occasional showers reducing vsby to 1 to 3 nm at times.
Wed Night... SW wind around 20 kt early on...becoming W around 15 kt.
Seas 1 to 2 ft. Fog and showers lowering vsby to 1 to 3 nm at times.
snip

************************************************** *******
My story.

I had volunteered to fix a friends weather fax--a preamplifer in the
antenna needed it's antenna feedline soldered back on, and also agreed
to help move this 44' sloop up to Old Saybrooke, at the mouth of the
Connecticut River. It seemed like a good idea since the weather was
warm and winds were predicted to be light 10 knots 1' seas, and
westerly. So I was looking forward to a warm day's sail, with the wind
behind us the whole way, and a chance of showers late in the day.
Nothing could have been farther from the truth.

The idea was to give the boat a head start on it's annual trip to te
islands. When I arrived at the boat, the winds were from the east and
strong. It was overcast and drizzling. I started having doubts about
going, but didn't want to let my friends down, and it looked like a
day where experienced crew would be in demand. I fixed the weather
fax, checked the receiver, and went to check the weather forecast. It
was the local weather than made me think I should flake out.
Ulitimately, I decided I would go along because I felt that the other
two, one experience, and one inexperienced, really needed another hand
along.

The skipper, a fellow named Tim, was a fine sailor. The other crew
Cecil, was a rookie. Cecil got seasick before we left the harbor, but
was helpful getting the main up.

What was predicted to be a 10 knot westerly turned into a 30-35 knot
easterly. I've never before seen Long Island Sound look like the
Atlantic.

Tim took the helm out of the harbor. Inside the protection of the
islands, the wind felt like about 20 knots. At first we just motored,
and going straight into the waves which kept getting bigger and
bigger. The current was running counter to the wind and we were
looking forward the the change over--thinking this would stop
compressing the waves. Motoring was nearly useless as the boat made
poor forward progress. Once we were in Long Island Sound, with 100
miles of fetch to the east, the seas became very big--at times 10-12
feet, breaking and square, and about 35' apart or less. Soon Tim,
without a foul weather jacket, was getting soaked at the helm.
Buckets of water in the face. I donned my foul weather jacket,
knowing he'd want to put his jacket on and would need to be relieved
soon.

I pointed out that if heeled the boat would not pound so much, and Tim
must have been thiking the same thing. he decided to motor sail and
Cecil and I hoisted the main with a single reef. The boat took off on
a port tack steering between 120 and 135, and motion was somewhat
better.

Tim was good and soaked and became very cold. He was not prepared for
such wind and cold weather, and had not brought enough warm cloths. I
soon found out that while working on deck hoisting sails made me hot,
and at the helm doping less strenuous work, I began to get cold.

Now that we were in the center of Long Island Sound, the winds were
stronger than ever. We still took breaking waves over the bow that
cleared the dodger, every few minutes. I took my eye-glasses off
since I could not see anything with them covered with salt water.
Apparent wind speeds were in the 34-36 knot range. Salt spray stung my
face. The wind and wave continued to build to a maximum of about 35
knots, and then tapered off to about 30 knots again. We were making
about 5 knots way.

I should have put on the autopilot and gotten out of the wind. Frankly
it was fun driving, and I did not realize at the time, how the
combination of the wind and the cold was affecting me. The water was
not terribly cold, but after being relieved from watch, I found my
fingers were stiff and barely functional.

After a long two hour watch, I was very cold. Tim took over again,
since Cecil was sick. I didn't have my hat, which I'm convinced has a
signficant effect on my heat retention. I needed a few minutes
flexing my fingers before I trusted my grip to climb up to the dodger
to get out of the weather.

Off watch and inactive I found I became even colder, and started to
feel slight nausea. I was debating going below to catch a knap or
staying on deck to fight the nausea.

Now I had a good view of the Apparent Wind gauge. It topped out at
39.5 knots apparent. Typically it was 34-36 knots apparent wind speed
depending on how who well the boat was steered. I think the winds
were pretty consistent, it was the boat speed varied the apparent wind
and depended on the size of the waves that hit us and our heading,
which varied substantially. Driving while ducking bucket sized face
shots of seawater was not the best. I was disappointed we didn't hit
40 knots. I wished we were sailing downwind, we could have made it to
NYC in the same time it took to beat this short distance to weather.

I later learned some front that was expected to pass to the north came
more southerly and that is was clobbered us. None of the weather web
sites predicted what actually happened until after the event. None
of them that I could find recorded the winds we saw. Temprature at
6pm was 48 degree F.

Anyway, we began talking about bail out options and Tim revisted his
bail out destination to New Haven. We were adjacent to Stratford, but
our draft would be a problem there. We talked about Milford also.
Milfords Gulf is a nice protected "outer harbor", if we wanted to
proceed, but docking and warm food appealed to all of us.

I ducked down below to try and clean up the mess the cabin was in and
and to fetch a chart. I managed to do that, but that time spent below
turned my stomach, and some time later I discovered that barfed up my
6 hour old breakfast of eggs and toast. Those eggs stuck like glue to
the deck, and added a little color to what had become a dreary day!
Later, I had some dry heaves and Cecil decided to help me sing a duet
in parallel. Hehehe! I feel bad that being sick made him sick, but I
laugh about it now.

Knowing we had to decide quickly if we wanted to make port in
daylight, and with one person very sea sick, and another (me) somewhat
seasick, but functional, and all three of us cold--especially Tim, Tim
bumped up our target to Milford Harbor, and I agreed as I was thinking
along those lines myself. Cecil was beyond caring, unable to comment,
but at least he was warm with a nice knit hat and protection from the
dodger..

I eased the main as we reached off and the boat became more
comfortable. Once we hit the lee of Milford, the sea calmed, even
Cecil felt better.

Later we saw a fireboat, blasting through the waves, completely
obscured as it punched through each wave. One crewman saw us heading
for Milford, and later stopped by at our berth to chat about the
weather when we got in. Every yard worker came out in the drizzle to
ask us about the conditions. Tim and I both told the same story, it
was the worst sea's we had ever seen Long Island Sound, and the 100
mile fetch made it seem like we were in the Atlantic.

Somewhere during the day I decided to haul my boat out for the season.
I don't care how nice the forecasters say it will be this weekend, it
is time to quit for the season.

My brother drove over to Milford and met us, drove us to dinner, paid
for by "glad to be alive" Cecil, and later gave us all a ride back to
our cars.

After going through this with Tim, I feel like I've made a friend for
life. Neither of us had ever seen Long Island Sound that rough. And
we talked about the event. I told him before we left I was considering
"not going out" and he told me he would have gone out, but surely have
turned back sooner without me. Knowing when to quit is good.
Perhaps knowing when not to start is even better. Still, I would not
have given up the experience, because I made two good friends, and
spent and enjoyable dinner with them and my brother Dwight who went
out of his way to help us all out.

In the mean time another more serious story was playing out which we
discussed over dinner...

Another friend of ours, who shall remain nameless, wearing only
shorts, a shirt and foul weather jacket, left about the same time to
pick up a "free" Sabre 28 near Liberty Landing. He planned to pick it
up with a whaler w/40HP motor. He had recently done a quick and dirty
patch to the hole in the boat that sunk it originally. So that is how
he got such a good deal. The motor did not work because it had sunk,
and at this point the mast was not stepped.

He motored to Jersey City in the whaler, then hip towed the Sabre
using the outboard for propulsion and the Sabre's wheel for steering,
which allowed him to duck behind the coaming for some protection.
I've towed like this, it is very tough steering and requires lots of
helm to stay on course. Soon he was past Hell Gate and starting to
feel the wind, and waves. He spent the whole trip worried about
whether his patch would hold or not.

He nearly bailed out at City Island, but instead contacted a buddy of
ours at Mamaronek, using the last of his cell phone battery, and
ducked into his yacht club.

This second guy could not stop laughing. I'm laughing right now,
thinking about this unbelievable day he had, that made mine seem tame.

We were about to call the Coast Guard for him since we lost
communication with him at 3pm, and we knew he was cold, had a dead
cell phone, and no radio. But at this point, he managed to make it
into port in the dark to everyones relief. "Balls the size of
coconuts" was one of the phrases used to decribe this trip. Only a
very competent seaman, or crazy seaman, could have or would have
attempted to do what he did, and made it as far as he did. Still, I'm
simply glad he bailed out and I'm glad is alive to laugh at. The
patch could have failed, the motor could have died, and he might have
been stuck anchored somewhere overnight with inadequate clothing.

Bart Senior

"Scott Vernon" wrote

Maybe I missed it, but, where did you shove off from?

Scotty

Oops. 1 Lash for me. I didn't mention it. It was Norwalk.

To continue the story. After that rough day, I decided it
was time to pull HOOT's mast, and put it up for the season
before the weather got really bad. So I spent the next few
days doing that. Tim, the skipper on the trip I just wrote
about, wanted to thank me for helping move the boat and
agreed to help me haul 200 lbs of shrink wrap up around the
big boat and after he and I drapped it over the boat, I shrunk
wrapped the bottom and tied it down with strapping.

I spent the next few days hoping for a calm day to finish
shrinking the plastic--the top portion from the inside and
this had to be done when there was no wind pressure on the
plastic.

After waiting three days for some light wind, I finished the
big boat and then I did the little boat.

This was my first time using my new $500 shrink wrap torch and
did the nearly the entire job by myself. It was not easy, but
in the future, it will only cost material to do these jobs.

A few days later we got even worse weather. You must have
seen some of that. We had winds with 40 mph steady and gusts,
I've been told, up to 60 mph--for two days! I've never seen
anything like that. I'm so glad I hauled the little boat,
which was using the winter docks at the yacht club, to avoid
hoisting it in and out, and could only be reached by kayak,
since the ladder to the dock was pulled. If I'd left it in
the water, who knows what would have happened.

The first day of the wind storm, I went down to the big boat
worried that my shrink wrap would not hold up. My frame,
built of conduit, was permanently bent over 1 foot to leeward.
I was worried it would be carried away and tightened up every
nut and bolt and screw. At one point at the peak of the winds,
I leaned against the frame to help support it. It felt like
being hit my a 250 lbs man on the gusts. I resigned myself that
I might have to do the whole job again, and prayed it would
hold together since I'd done everything I could do.

I taped up every spot that looked weak and did my best to plug
any place wind could get in. I was lucky, my shink wrap held up
the next 36 hours.

The fellow next to me, lost his shrink wrap completely. It all
started with a small hole and got bigger and then exploded. My
buddy on the other side who had only one minor hole in one tarp
on the first day, had every tarp he had shredded like lettuce
on the second day. I think my theory of taping every hole made
good sense.

You may have heard about the Italians crew who were rescued in
the Atlantic by the Coast Guard at about the same time. It must
have been hell for them offshore. I'd like to hear their story.

It was very nasty in the boat yard, and the marina. The sailing
schools dock, like every sailing school I've ever seen were
in the most exposed part of the marina--which explains the damage.

My buddy with the Sabre 28, whose boat I helped move, left his big
boat in Bermuda (St Thomas had 40 knot winds and nearly a foot of
rain), delayed the second part of the trip, and flew back for a
few days. He nearly lost his new (used) Sabre at the dock, and his
whaler was swamped in the marina and barely manged to get the Sabre
hauled before his patch, which was leaking, failed completely.

I took a student out sailing today for a few hours, and found most
of the heavy dock lines for the sailing school's smaller boats had
parted or were chafted to ruin. The ones that had not, had obviously
been added later. If they hadn't been doubled up, the boats would
have been trashed.

Bart

Bart Senior bartsenior wrote in message . ..

Hey Bart,ie: Captain Ron

Sounded like a memoriable trip. Bet you did not check the weather did you?

Go ahead admit it.

I like trips with a little challenge myself.

Sailing in perfect conditions is boring.

Joe
MSV RedCloud











Here is a forecast from a few days back:

Forecast as of 9:00 PM EST on November 2, 2003

snip

Mon Night... SW wind 10 to 15 kt becoming variable around 10 kt. Seas
1 to 2 ft.
Tue... Variable wind around 10 kt. Seas around 1 ft. ====This one!
Tue Night... S wind 10 to 15 kt. Seas around 1 ft.
Wed... S wind 10 to 15 kt...becoming SW and increasing to 15 to 20 kt
in the afternoon. Seas building to 2 to 3 ft. Chance of showers and
fog with vsby 1 to 3 nm at times.
snip

Here is the forecast posted some hours after we ducking into Milford
Harbor.

Forecast as of 9:10 PM EST on November 4, 2003

Small Craft Advisory

Overnight Tuesday... E wind around 20 kt...diminishing to around 15
kt. Seas 2 to 4 ft...subsiding to around 2 ft late. Chance of drizzle
or rain along with areas of fog reducing vsby to 1 to 3 nm at times.
Wed... Se wind around 15 kt...becoming SW 15 to 20 kt during the
afternoon. Seas around 2 ft. Chance of rain or drizzle in the
morning...then occasional showers reducing vsby to 1 to 3 nm at times.
Wed Night... SW wind around 20 kt early on...becoming W around 15 kt.
Seas 1 to 2 ft. Fog and showers lowering vsby to 1 to 3 nm at times.
snip

************************************************** *******
My story.

I had volunteered to fix a friends weather fax--a preamplifer in the
antenna needed it's antenna feedline soldered back on, and also agreed
to help move this 44' sloop up to Old Saybrooke, at the mouth of the
Connecticut River. It seemed like a good idea since the weather was
warm and winds were predicted to be light 10 knots 1' seas, and
westerly. So I was looking forward to a warm day's sail, with the wind
behind us the whole way, and a chance of showers late in the day.
Nothing could have been farther from the truth.

The idea was to give the boat a head start on it's annual trip to te
islands. When I arrived at the boat, the winds were from the east and
strong. It was overcast and drizzling. I started having doubts about
going, but didn't want to let my friends down, and it looked like a
day where experienced crew would be in demand. I fixed the weather
fax, checked the receiver, and went to check the weather forecast. It
was the local weather than made me think I should flake out.
Ulitimately, I decided I would go along because I felt that the other
two, one experience, and one inexperienced, really needed another hand
along.

The skipper, a fellow named Tim, was a fine sailor. The other crew
Cecil, was a rookie. Cecil got seasick before we left the harbor, but
was helpful getting the main up.

What was predicted to be a 10 knot westerly turned into a 30-35 knot
easterly. I've never before seen Long Island Sound look like the
Atlantic.

Tim took the helm out of the harbor. Inside the protection of the
islands, the wind felt like about 20 knots. At first we just motored,
and going straight into the waves which kept getting bigger and
bigger. The current was running counter to the wind and we were
looking forward the the change over--thinking this would stop
compressing the waves. Motoring was nearly useless as the boat made
poor forward progress. Once we were in Long Island Sound, with 100
miles of fetch to the east, the seas became very big--at times 10-12
feet, breaking and square, and about 35' apart or less. Soon Tim,
without a foul weather jacket, was getting soaked at the helm.
Buckets of water in the face. I donned my foul weather jacket,
knowing he'd want to put his jacket on and would need to be relieved
soon.

I pointed out that if heeled the boat would not pound so much, and Tim
must have been thiking the same thing. he decided to motor sail and
Cecil and I hoisted the main with a single reef. The boat took off on
a port tack steering between 120 and 135, and motion was somewhat
better.

Tim was good and soaked and became very cold. He was not prepared for
such wind and cold weather, and had not brought enough warm cloths. I
soon found out that while working on deck hoisting sails made me hot,
and at the helm doping less strenuous work, I began to get cold.

Now that we were in the center of Long Island Sound, the winds were
stronger than ever. We still took breaking waves over the bow that
cleared the dodger, every few minutes. I took my eye-glasses off
since I could not see anything with them covered with salt water.
Apparent wind speeds were in the 34-36 knot range. Salt spray stung my
face. The wind and wave continued to build to a maximum of about 35
knots, and then tapered off to about 30 knots again. We were making
about 5 knots way.

I should have put on the autopilot and gotten out of the wind. Frankly
it was fun driving, and I did not realize at the time, how the
combination of the wind and the cold was affecting me. The water was
not terribly cold, but after being relieved from watch, I found my
fingers were stiff and barely functional.

After a long two hour watch, I was very cold. Tim took over again,
since Cecil was sick. I didn't have my hat, which I'm convinced has a
signficant effect on my heat retention. I needed a few minutes
flexing my fingers before I trusted my grip to climb up to the dodger
to get out of the weather.

Off watch and inactive I found I became even colder, and started to
feel slight nausea. I was debating going below to catch a knap or
staying on deck to fight the nausea.

Now I had a good view of the Apparent Wind gauge. It topped out at
39.5 knots apparent. Typically it was 34-36 knots apparent wind speed
depending on how who well the boat was steered. I think the winds
were pretty consistent, it was the boat speed varied the apparent wind
and depended on the size of the waves that hit us and our heading,
which varied substantially. Driving while ducking bucket sized face
shots of seawater was not the best. I was disappointed we didn't hit
40 knots. I wished we were sailing downwind, we could have made it to
NYC in the same time it took to beat this short distance to weather.

I later learned some front that was expected to pass to the north came
more southerly and that is was clobbered us. None of the weather web
sites predicted what actually happened until after the event. None
of them that I could find recorded the winds we saw. Temprature at
6pm was 48 degree F.

Anyway, we began talking about bail out options and Tim revisted his
bail out destination to New Haven. We were adjacent to Stratford, but
our draft would be a problem there. We talked about Milford also.
Milfords Gulf is a nice protected "outer harbor", if we wanted to
proceed, but docking and warm food appealed to all of us.

I ducked down below to try and clean up the mess the cabin was in and
and to fetch a chart. I managed to do that, but that time spent below
turned my stomach, and some time later I discovered that barfed up my
6 hour old breakfast of eggs and toast. Those eggs stuck like glue to
the deck, and added a little color to what had become a dreary day!
Later, I had some dry heaves and Cecil decided to help me sing a duet
in parallel. Hehehe! I feel bad that being sick made him sick, but I
laugh about it now.

Knowing we had to decide quickly if we wanted to make port in
daylight, and with one person very sea sick, and another (me) somewhat
seasick, but functional, and all three of us cold--especially Tim, Tim
bumped up our target to Milford Harbor, and I agreed as I was thinking
along those lines myself. Cecil was beyond caring, unable to comment,
but at least he was warm with a nice knit hat and protection from the
dodger..

I eased the main as we reached off and the boat became more
comfortable. Once we hit the lee of Milford, the sea calmed, even
Cecil felt better.

Later we saw a fireboat, blasting through the waves, completely
obscured as it punched through each wave. One crewman saw us heading
for Milford, and later stopped by at our berth to chat about the
weather when we got in. Every yard worker came out in the drizzle to
ask us about the conditions. Tim and I both told the same story, it
was the worst sea's we had ever seen Long Island Sound, and the 100
mile fetch made it seem like we were in the Atlantic.

Somewhere during the day I decided to haul my boat out for the season.
I don't care how nice the forecasters say it will be this weekend, it
is time to quit for the season.

My brother drove over to Milford and met us, drove us to dinner, paid
for by "glad to be alive" Cecil, and later gave us all a ride back to
our cars.

After going through this with Tim, I feel like I've made a friend for
life. Neither of us had ever seen Long Island Sound that rough. And
we talked about the event. I told him before we left I was considering
"not going out" and he told me he would have gone out, but surely have
turned back sooner without me. Knowing when to quit is good.
Perhaps knowing when not to start is even better. Still, I would not
have given up the experience, because I made two good friends, and
spent and enjoyable dinner with them and my brother Dwight who went
out of his way to help us all out.

In the mean time another more serious story was playing out which we
discussed over dinner...

Another friend of ours, who shall remain nameless, wearing only
shorts, a shirt and foul weather jacket, left about the same time to
pick up a "free" Sabre 28 near Liberty Landing. He planned to pick it
up with a whaler w/40HP motor. He had recently done a quick and dirty
patch to the hole in the boat that sunk it originally. So that is how
he got such a good deal. The motor did not work because it had sunk,
and at this point the mast was not stepped.

He motored to Jersey City in the whaler, then hip towed the Sabre
using the outboard for propulsion and the Sabre's wheel for steering,
which allowed him to duck behind the coaming for some protection.
I've towed like this, it is very tough steering and requires lots of
helm to stay on course. Soon he was past Hell Gate and starting to
feel the wind, and waves. He spent the whole trip worried about
whether his patch would hold or not.

He nearly bailed out at City Island, but instead contacted a buddy of
ours at Mamaronek, using the last of his cell phone battery, and
ducked into his yacht club.

This second guy could not stop laughing. I'm laughing right now,
thinking about this unbelievable day he had, that made mine seem tame.

We were about to call the Coast Guard for him since we lost
communication with him at 3pm, and we knew he was cold, had a dead
cell phone, and no radio. But at this point, he managed to make it
into port in the dark to everyones relief. "Balls the size of
coconuts" was one of the phrases used to decribe this trip. Only a
very competent seaman, or crazy seaman, could have or would have
attempted to do what he did, and made it as far as he did. Still, I'm
simply glad he bailed out and I'm glad is alive to laugh at. The
patch could have failed, the motor could have died, and he might have
been stuck anchored somewhere overnight with inadequate clothing.

Bart Senior

(Joe) wrote

Hey Bart,ie: Captain Ron

Sounded like a memoriable trip. Bet you did not check the weather did you?

Go ahead admit it.

I sure did. In fact I almost bailed on the trip. I decided
not to go after seeing the weather first hand.

I did check the weather, although I spent more time checking
the offshore forcast to see what my friends were to expect.
Their was a hurricane to the North. Anyway, it turned out
they had a nice passage with lots of surfing at 15 knots.

I changed my mind again because I didn't want to see Tim go
out with only one rookie for help, which for him would have
been singled handed sailing with someone in the way.

Bart