Another important skill for the coastal pilot is seeing. Well, yeah,
not many blind people in the game. But seeing is not just watching the
pictures your eyes throw up on the screen of your consciousness and
waiting for things to jump out at you. The signals your brain sends
back to your eyes are at least as important as what your eyes send
upstairs.

I often used to sail back into Boston late at night. This was in the
very simply equipped Pearson 26's. They had navigation lights but not
even a compass light. I rigged up my own portable one that I moved
from boat to boat. Chart, watch, compass, pencil and parallel rule.
That was the full navigation outfit.

I was usually cold and in a hurry by that time so I would take the
short cut between Lower Middle shoals and Governors Island Flats
rather than loop around the main channel. There was never much traffic
in there which was a plus but there isn't much margin to either side
for a deep keeled boat.

I'd swing close around Deer Island Light, check the compass course on
the chart and that was about the last I would see of the chart until
the next time I went sailing. There was too much going on in the
harbor to spend any time looking at it and I didn't want to lose a bit
of my night vision anyway.

The first thing I had to find was the C "1". They were black in those
days and just as dark as the night. I seldom actually saw the can.
Instead, I would sail intentionally a bit off course and watch the
solid mass of city lights behind until I saw one wink off. When a
blink caught my eye, I would watch to see if there was a progression
of lights winking off. When I found a steady progress of lights
disappearing, I would then sail straight towards the spot while
watching for the lights on either side to go out briefly. Cross
referencing with the compass course to be sure I wasn't chasing
something else would bring me right up to the can. The distance I
could actually see it was short enough that I could have hunted for it
all night looking directly. (Binoculars would have helped but I had
good eyes and it hadn't occurred to me to buy a pair.)

I would then head up towards the N "4", pick up the C "3" the same
way and head directly towards it when I found it. Then straight up the
channel again which would give me the bias to move the C "5" against
the lights. Once past this, I was home free.

Obviously this isn't a technique that will work most places but is
shows the difference between just staring off into the dark waiting
for the little guy in your brain to yell "Buoy!" and looking with
strategy and planning at the full picture in front of you.

The brain is capable of some very complex processing when given a
chance. I used to read about grizzled old salts being able to read the
current in the waves and wrote it off as folklore. How can you
determine the speed and direction of the current without a reference
point? One day, I looked at the water and realized that young salts
can do it too if they just learn how to see.

After you have looked at waves for a while, you develop a feel for the
relationship of speed to length (there is an exact relationship) and
the direction is, of course, fairly easy to determine. When you look
"through" the waves to the surface of the water the right way, your
brain can actually synthesize a stationary reference by subtracting
the wave motion. You can then see the bubbles and bits of flotsam
clearly moving very separately from it. I don't know how this can be
taught or even if everyone can do it. Once you've seen it, it's very
striking. It's a very Zen like realization to discover that it was
always there but you couldn't see it.

You obviously wouldn't want to thread a very fine piloting needle
using this as a current correction but it's very useful in an area
where current direction is not obvious and to alert you to the
direction and rough strength of the set.

These are narrow examples of a way of using your brain that should
permeate all your piloting, whether simple clock and compass or the
fully outfitted bridge of a major ship. Everything is just little
pieces for an internal mental model of your situation that you
maneuver within. As soon as you start just pushing a pencil dot across
a piece of paper or a cursor across a GPS screen, you may be standing
into trouble.

--

Roger Long

Very good post! Mentally model the conditions..and see what
computes, and what doesn't. Probably explains why I've never
had an auto accident (66 years old), a sailing accident, nor a
flying accident.
Norm B


On Thu, 27 Jan 2005 01:31:16 GMT, "Roger Long" wrote:

Another important skill for the coastal pilot is seeing. Well, yeah,
not many blind people in the game. But seeing is not just watching the
pictures your eyes throw up on the screen of your consciousness and
waiting for things to jump out at you. The signals your brain sends
back to your eyes are at least as important as what your eyes send
upstairs.

I often used to sail back into Boston late at night. This was in the
very simply equipped Pearson 26's. They had navigation lights but not
even a compass light. I rigged up my own portable one that I moved
from boat to boat. Chart, watch, compass, pencil and parallel rule.
That was the full navigation outfit.

I was usually cold and in a hurry by that time so I would take the
short cut between Lower Middle shoals and Governors Island Flats
rather than loop around the main channel. There was never much traffic
in there which was a plus but there isn't much margin to either side
for a deep keeled boat.

I'd swing close around Deer Island Light, check the compass course on
the chart and that was about the last I would see of the chart until
the next time I went sailing. There was too much going on in the
harbor to spend any time looking at it and I didn't want to lose a bit
of my night vision anyway.

The first thing I had to find was the C "1". They were black in those
days and just as dark as the night. I seldom actually saw the can.
Instead, I would sail intentionally a bit off course and watch the
solid mass of city lights behind until I saw one wink off. When a
blink caught my eye, I would watch to see if there was a progression
of lights winking off. When I found a steady progress of lights
disappearing, I would then sail straight towards the spot while
watching for the lights on either side to go out briefly. Cross
referencing with the compass course to be sure I wasn't chasing
something else would bring me right up to the can. The distance I
could actually see it was short enough that I could have hunted for it
all night looking directly. (Binoculars would have helped but I had
good eyes and it hadn't occurred to me to buy a pair.)

I would then head up towards the N "4", pick up the C "3" the same
way and head directly towards it when I found it. Then straight up the
channel again which would give me the bias to move the C "5" against
the lights. Once past this, I was home free.

Obviously this isn't a technique that will work most places but is
shows the difference between just staring off into the dark waiting
for the little guy in your brain to yell "Buoy!" and looking with
strategy and planning at the full picture in front of you.

The brain is capable of some very complex processing when given a
chance. I used to read about grizzled old salts being able to read the
current in the waves and wrote it off as folklore. How can you
determine the speed and direction of the current without a reference
point? One day, I looked at the water and realized that young salts
can do it too if they just learn how to see.

After you have looked at waves for a while, you develop a feel for the
relationship of speed to length (there is an exact relationship) and
the direction is, of course, fairly easy to determine. When you look
"through" the waves to the surface of the water the right way, your
brain can actually synthesize a stationary reference by subtracting
the wave motion. You can then see the bubbles and bits of flotsam
clearly moving very separately from it. I don't know how this can be
taught or even if everyone can do it. Once you've seen it, it's very
striking. It's a very Zen like realization to discover that it was
always there but you couldn't see it.

You obviously wouldn't want to thread a very fine piloting needle
using this as a current correction but it's very useful in an area
where current direction is not obvious and to alert you to the
direction and rough strength of the set.

These are narrow examples of a way of using your brain that should
permeate all your piloting, whether simple clock and compass or the
fully outfitted bridge of a major ship. Everything is just little
pieces for an internal mental model of your situation that you
maneuver within. As soon as you start just pushing a pencil dot across
a piece of paper or a cursor across a GPS screen, you may be standing
into trouble.

In article ,
"Roger Long" wrote:

Another important skill for the coastal pilot is seeing. Well, yeah,
not many blind people in the game. But seeing is not just watching the
pictures your eyes throw up on the screen of your consciousness and
waiting for things to jump out at you. The signals your brain sends
back to your eyes are at least as important as what your eyes send
upstairs.

Nice series.

Another part of seeing is to listen to your "inner voice". All too
often, when something doesn't seem just right, it's time to look around
for why. A couple of times, that's interrupted a rollicking raft-up just
in time for us to split up and get separate anchors down before a
squall.

Minor little thing that came to mind as I was reading: Every once in
awhile, I'll notice I'm "accidently" steering off course, the bow up to
20 degrees off of intended course, then find I'm correcting for a
current I wasn't consciously aware of. I'm probably automatically
"ranging" whatever's in the water against the shoreline.

After a dozen years in this boat and 600+ daytrips in the area, quite a
few of the tricks like that I'd learned over the years have gone into
"autopilot". Makes life easy for me, but hell on my wife as I try to
improve her skills. When she asks why I would tell her to point a bit to
port and I can only say "because it feels right", she gets
understandably testy.

It's nice to see someone else's explanations. Might help my instruction
next season.

--
Jere Lull
Xan-a-Deux ('73 Tanzer 28 #4 out of Tolchester, MD)
Xan's Pages: http://members.dca.net/jerelull/X-Main.html
Our BVI FAQs (290+ pics) http://homepage.mac.com/jerelull/BVI/

Since you mention flying:

When I was learning how to land, I would squint down the glide path
trying to remember all the things my instructor told me.

"Watch the VASI and keep it just a little pink."
"Keep the touchdown point so it doesn't move against the bugs and
scratches on the windshield."

The break through came when I learned to take a few moments on final
to shake my head, look to the left, look to the right, look at the
crossing runways (a good safety procedure anyway), run my eyes all
around the perimeter of the airport.

The brief eye and brain exercise would pop the whole scene from being
a 2D representation, in which I was I was trying to keep a few points
lined up like my computer flight simulator, into a three dimensional
world. Suddenly, I was spatially oriented and actually in that world.
My whole brain was suddenly engaged and the task of staying on the
flight path dramatically easier. The guide points my CFI was trying
to drill into my head suddenly became secondary references and I could
just make the plane go where it was suppose to.

I still remember to do this whenever faced with a tough approach due
to winds or a short field. It never fails to dramatically increase my
focus and performance.

--

Roger Long



"engsol" wrote in message
...
Very good post! Mentally model the conditions..and see what
computes, and what doesn't. Probably explains why I've never
had an auto accident (66 years old), a sailing accident, nor a
flying accident.
Norm B


On Thu, 27 Jan 2005 01:31:16 GMT, "Roger Long"
wrote:

Another important skill for the coastal pilot is seeing. Well, yeah,
not many blind people in the game. But seeing is not just watching
the
pictures your eyes throw up on the screen of your consciousness and
waiting for things to jump out at you. The signals your brain sends
back to your eyes are at least as important as what your eyes send
upstairs.

I often used to sail back into Boston late at night. This was in the
very simply equipped Pearson 26's. They had navigation lights but
not
even a compass light. I rigged up my own portable one that I moved
from boat to boat. Chart, watch, compass, pencil and parallel rule.
That was the full navigation outfit.

I was usually cold and in a hurry by that time so I would take the
short cut between Lower Middle shoals and Governors Island Flats
rather than loop around the main channel. There was never much
traffic
in there which was a plus but there isn't much margin to either side
for a deep keeled boat.

I'd swing close around Deer Island Light, check the compass course
on
the chart and that was about the last I would see of the chart until
the next time I went sailing. There was too much going on in the
harbor to spend any time looking at it and I didn't want to lose a
bit
of my night vision anyway.

The first thing I had to find was the C "1". They were black in
those
days and just as dark as the night. I seldom actually saw the can.
Instead, I would sail intentionally a bit off course and watch the
solid mass of city lights behind until I saw one wink off. When a
blink caught my eye, I would watch to see if there was a progression
of lights winking off. When I found a steady progress of lights
disappearing, I would then sail straight towards the spot while
watching for the lights on either side to go out briefly. Cross
referencing with the compass course to be sure I wasn't chasing
something else would bring me right up to the can. The distance I
could actually see it was short enough that I could have hunted for
it
all night looking directly. (Binoculars would have helped but I had
good eyes and it hadn't occurred to me to buy a pair.)

I would then head up towards the N "4", pick up the C "3" the same
way and head directly towards it when I found it. Then straight up
the
channel again which would give me the bias to move the C "5" against
the lights. Once past this, I was home free.

Obviously this isn't a technique that will work most places but is
shows the difference between just staring off into the dark waiting
for the little guy in your brain to yell "Buoy!" and looking with
strategy and planning at the full picture in front of you.

The brain is capable of some very complex processing when given a
chance. I used to read about grizzled old salts being able to read
the
current in the waves and wrote it off as folklore. How can you
determine the speed and direction of the current without a reference
point? One day, I looked at the water and realized that young salts
can do it too if they just learn how to see.

After you have looked at waves for a while, you develop a feel for
the
relationship of speed to length (there is an exact relationship) and
the direction is, of course, fairly easy to determine. When you look
"through" the waves to the surface of the water the right way, your
brain can actually synthesize a stationary reference by subtracting
the wave motion. You can then see the bubbles and bits of flotsam
clearly moving very separately from it. I don't know how this can be
taught or even if everyone can do it. Once you've seen it, it's very
striking. It's a very Zen like realization to discover that it was
always there but you couldn't see it.

You obviously wouldn't want to thread a very fine piloting needle
using this as a current correction but it's very useful in an area
where current direction is not obvious and to alert you to the
direction and rough strength of the set.

These are narrow examples of a way of using your brain that should
permeate all your piloting, whether simple clock and compass or the
fully outfitted bridge of a major ship. Everything is just little
pieces for an internal mental model of your situation that you
maneuver within. As soon as you start just pushing a pencil dot
across
a piece of paper or a cursor across a GPS screen, you may be
standing
into trouble.

I went out to fly one day. The weather was perfect, absolutely clear,
no wind. I got the plane preflighted and ready to start. A little
voice kept saying, "Don't fly." I'm not at all prone to such things
but a multi thousand hour instructor once told me that the most
important instrument in the airplane is behind the pilot's belt
buckle. I decided to sacrifice the day to the air gods in honor of
that advice.

The next pilot to fly the plane had the engine fail and deadsticked it
to a landing. I certainly didn't have the experience at that point to
have pulled that maneuver off successfully.

--

Roger Long



"Jere Lull" wrote in message
...
In article ,
"Roger Long" wrote:

Another important skill for the coastal pilot is seeing. Well,
yeah,
not many blind people in the game. But seeing is not just watching
the
pictures your eyes throw up on the screen of your consciousness and
waiting for things to jump out at you. The signals your brain sends
back to your eyes are at least as important as what your eyes send
upstairs.

Nice series.

Another part of seeing is to listen to your "inner voice". All too
often, when something doesn't seem just right, it's time to look
around
for why. A couple of times, that's interrupted a rollicking raft-up
just
in time for us to split up and get separate anchors down before a
squall.

Minor little thing that came to mind as I was reading: Every once in
awhile, I'll notice I'm "accidently" steering off course, the bow up
to
20 degrees off of intended course, then find I'm correcting for a
current I wasn't consciously aware of. I'm probably automatically
"ranging" whatever's in the water against the shoreline.

After a dozen years in this boat and 600+ daytrips in the area,
quite a
few of the tricks like that I'd learned over the years have gone
into
"autopilot". Makes life easy for me, but hell on my wife as I try to
improve her skills. When she asks why I would tell her to point a
bit to
port and I can only say "because it feels right", she gets
understandably testy.

It's nice to see someone else's explanations. Might help my
instruction
next season.

--
Jere Lull
Xan-a-Deux ('73 Tanzer 28 #4 out of Tolchester, MD)
Xan's Pages: http://members.dca.net/jerelull/X-Main.html
Our BVI FAQs (290+ pics) http://homepage.mac.com/jerelull/BVI/

On Thu, 27 Jan 2005 04:53:53 GMT, Jere Lull wrote:

Every once in
awhile, I'll notice I'm "accidently" steering off course, the bow up to
20 degrees off of intended course, then find I'm correcting for a
current I wasn't consciously aware of. I'm probably automatically
"ranging" whatever's in the water against the shoreline.

That happens to me too! Heh. Here in Lake Ontario on a light air day,
you can "find" fairly substantial currents of 1-1 1/2 knots. They are
local and wander due to the interaction of river outflows and the odd
features around Toronto. We use 'em when we race, but if you are
making a lazy four knots under a full hoist, a tied off tiller and
three degrees of heel (due to the case of beer), it's a shock to do
that "ranging" thing and find you've drifting several hundred metres
to the south! Same course, same bearing, but the boat's quietly
crabbed.

There's a lot of chimneys and isolated tall buildings to act as range
finders. Another tip for getting a dead-ahead bearing is to put a
litle tape or a few inches of streamer on the pulpit on either side so
that it lines up with your seating position looking dead forward. The
distance to the pulpit from the cockpit (about 27 feet in my case)
makes for even greater accuracy.

Other people use the trick of holding a thumb at arm's length, and
sighting the thumb to the high side of the forestay. That should
correct about 2.5 degrees. It's an old astronomer's trick I learned as
a kid.

R.