Here's a nice story and some great photos related to the historic small-boat voyage.

Article at www.cleveland.com. Photo by Norbert J. Yassanye, The Plain Dealer

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We've noticed over the years that a remarkable number of our readers seem to share passions or professions, things that—on the surface anyway—seem unrelated to sailing and boats.

Early on we noticed a high percentage of our contributors were teachers or professors. We can see how teaching and small-boat sailing might complement each other. Sailors and teachers probably share a love of learning. Teachers have summer breaks for trailersailing and probably don't make enough to own a mega-yacht, even if they wanted one.

A lot of you are pilots and engineers, and with the similarity in physics and the challenges involved this didn't surprise us. You're also a bright bunch.

What did surprise us a bit was discovering how many of you ride motorcycles. More than a few of you have mentioned a two-wheeled passion. Is it the freedom? The sensation of flying—the wind in your hair? As motorcycle legend Walt Healy is supposed to have said, "Only a biker knows why a dog sticks his head out the car window." Maybe sailors know too?

Is it a coincidence that Bob Hicks, publisher of Messing About in Boats, is a die-hard bike racer who used to publish motorcycle magazines, and Bob Bitchin', publisher of Lats & Atts, former life involved bikes and bikers that ran the gamut? We think not. So we shouldn't have been surprised when regular contributor and Editor-at-Large, Larry Brown sent us excerpts from a new book he's working on about the advantages and allure of motorcycles.

When we discussed all of this with Larry, he mentioned a related editorial he'd written for his regional newspaper column. We've pasted it below.—Eds

Something too huge to explain and too small to comment on…

A good life is full of passions.  I’ve been blessed with more passions than hours to pursue them all, which makes me a very lucky man.  Then, to balance the passions, you need quiet for reflection.  The shower is perfect for this… the heat pounds into your back;  a persistent hiss sets up a meditative dial-tone to blur the passing time.  I get at least half my newspaper columns right there where ideas rise up like steam into a mind blank from sleep.

So with summer coming up fast, this morning’s steam whispered of motorcycles and sailboats.  As passions go, these seem about as divergent as they can be, so I meditated on that… first alone, now with you.

If you want to grow up to be an old biker, the secret is to never let something even begin to happen that you don’t want.  I particularly don’t want to be run flat by some idiot driving an SUV while talking on the phone.  Black may project menace and gravitas but yellow gets seen, so I ride something red and wear something yellow. The reward for all this prudence is the sensation of flying in two dimensions.  And since there’s nothing dreamy about it, you’re absolutely present in the moment, which is another reward.

Whereas you drive the bike, in sailing, the boat takes you.  That doesn’t mean you’re not at the helm, but you can walk around in a boat, even lie down.  The first time I crossed Buzzard’s Bay almost 30 years ago, it was March… cold and blustery.  But I’d just gotten this 14 foot cabin sloop with a reputation for long passages. So I put some tea to boil on the gimbaled stove and snuggled into the windward berth for a nap, leaving Puffin (that was her name) to sail on her own with a balanced trim and a lashed tiller.  Tea takes a while with a can of Sterno beneath it, and I fell asleep before the whistle woke me up.  Sitting up, I watched the waves roll by my window and was happier than I’d been in a long time.

On a bike, you’re a hawk… on a boat, you’re a dolphin.  Big bike – or big boat –probably you can only afford to be one of these.  Small bike… small boat… and you get both.   Since I get over 80 miles per gallon on my bike, I fill up for about three bucks.  I’ve figured out how to ride through most of the winter (scooters are drier and warmer than cycles are) so now my primary vehicle has only two wheels.  Once I used to drive to work; now I fly.

When you’ve ridden to your destination, you get off.  When you’ve sailed to your destination, you just might want to stay right where you are – wherever that is.  You cook a dinner that would barely please a cub scout on land, but it’s delicious in a cockpit while the sun goes down.  If you’re lucky, your bladder gets you up in the middle of the night when the wind is still. The moon lays down a platinum trail across the water that a spirit could walk upon but not a man.  This, you realize, is what God is doing with the world when no one is looking.

If you’re lucky, someone you love is next to you and your two heads are sticking out the hatch to see it.  Either way, you take a deep breath and when you let it out, your whole soul pours out like smoke, across water, up the slopes of distant hills and away.  Then, in an instant, it snaps back inside your body like a rubber band, leaving you stunned and silent – knowing something too huge to explain and too small to mention has just happened to you, and changed you for the better.
 
Lawrence Brown of Hyannis teaches humanities at Cape Cod Academy in Osterville.  His column appears every Friday.  Reach him at 508-771-5096.

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We're excited to be carrying this book after a bit of searching. It's Shantyboat Journal from University Press of Kentucky. The 1930s journal of a couple truly living the small-boat lifestyle.

From the dust jacket:

"Harlan and Annna Hubbard, newly married in middle age, build the boat of their dreams and drift down the Ohio and Mississippi rivers. For seven years the Hubbards make their home on their little boat, drifting with the river, camping on the land."

The book is a 378-page collectible hardback with dust jacket and map on inside covers. If you're interested in ordering a copy click here. 

One of Harlan's paintings. From the Harlan Hubbard website: www.harlanhubbard.com

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Two weeks ago 'Jo, I, and Bosun traveled over to Channel Islands Harbor to sail with Captain Howie and his group, The Socal Potters. It's a seven hour trip for us to get over there with Dauntless in tow but it's a trip we've made every year for the last four years. In fact, it was the first place and time that we actually launched Dauntless after acquiring her and having to do major repair work. So, it's kind of like an anniversary every time we go.

We usually stay for 3 or 4 days and the group either sails out to Anacapa Island or up to Ventura, or both. Well, this year the wind just didn't cooperate. A high pressure system set-up right over us. Temps soared (for the coast anyway) and winds dropped. On Saturday morning the group assembled to head the 11 or 12 miles offshore to Anacapa. There was no wind.....none. Hoping that as we got offshore the breezes would pick up, off we went under motor. Jo and I weren't planning on going the whole way, anyway, but we were hoping to head out with the group and find some sailing. It wasn't to be had.

We were trailing behind the main group that was pushing to make time for the trip out to the island. A couple of other boats were in the vicintiy of us. Suddenly we were surrounded by a pod of dolphins. Not 5 or 10, or even 15 or 25, but lots of them. They were everywhere. We circled around to stay in the area. As I turned the boat the dolphins that were riding our bow turned with us. I looked over at Howie's boat, Sweet Thing II, and the same thing was happening to them. Craig in his P-19 was experiencing the same thing.



We played with these guys for well over an hour, circling around they would jump from our boat to Howie's, then Craig's, then back to ours. They'd split up and give us all a group of our own and then all converge into one group again. As they would swim alongside the boat you could literally see them looking at you. You could see them switch their gaze from me in the cockpit to 'Jo on the bow. It was amazing. I've seen it before, but never for such a prolonged time. Their motion through the water was effortless and they could speed away from us at will....but then they'd come back! Occasionally you could even hear their high pitched sonar sounds they make.

The entire episode lasted well over an hour. Eventually we turned for home as the pod started moving on.

Motoring back to the harbor was a time of reflection for me. In my everyday life I sometimes find myself so caught up in things. Like so many of folks out there, recent times at work have involved budget cuts, manpower shortages, and leadership that at times seems so out of touch with reality that it's hard to believe. Power struggles within the organization disgust me, especially when they lead to decisions the are made for entirely the wrong reasons. I came looking to find a get away from the whole situation and turn my brain off for a while. I knew a good stiff ocean breeze would distract me, at least for the short time that we'd be there.

 I didn't find that breeze......
 
What I found was better. That pod of dolphins opened my eyes. My focus has been on such a microcosm that my viewpoint has been skewed. All these people that I have been so frustrated with, the ones that are the "movers and shakers" (at least in their eyes), the ones that make the decisions based on personal motivations rather than the good of all, the ones that abuse their power to attack anyone that challeges their motivations, regardless of the damage it may do...they are only kidding themselves. They are big fish in a very little pond. Yes, in this little town of 50,000 people they have the power to do what they do....but in the overall picture they are little people and inconsequential. There is a great big world out there that moves along whether we know it or not. That pod of dolphins is somewhere out there in the Pacific, right now as I type this. They are hunting for food, giving birth to and raising their young, and playing on someone else's bow wake. The pod lives on with no ill will towards anything. Their motivations are pure. Acquire what is neccessary to support their own. Period. They don't destroy their own environment. They don't seek to acquire perceived wealth or worry about their own self-importance. It makes me think that maybe they look at us (humans) in amazement...of our ingnorance as a race. It made me wish that my world was more like theirs.

We returned to the dock early. Most of the group had gone the whole way out to the island. With no wind, and our four legger (Bosun) aboard, we figured we'd head back, get some lunch, and let him make a pit stop.

As afternoon moved into evening the boats began returning. Everyone arrived back in the harbor and smiles and laughter soon filled the docks. An impromptu dock party began. Someone decided we needed pizza and soon six or seven pizzas were being devoured by the group. The finger dock between Dauntless' starboard side and Sweet Thing's port side became "The Spot".

People were sitting on the boats, on the dock, in beach chairs, or just milling around the group. Open pizza boxes covered the concrete dock. Multiple conversations could be heard at any one time, all interspersed with laughter and joy.

 

Pizza boxes on the ground, chips and salsa on the cabin tops, drinks for everyone......soon crews from other boats nearby, not even associated with our group  began to mosey over. They were welcomed with open arms and joined in on the the feeding frenzy.

As darkness set in, Bosun indicated it was time for a walk. He and I took a little stroll up the dock and through the park like surroundings of the harbor area. The whole time we were walking my mind was thinking about the dolphins. We walked for about 20 minutes before returning to the docks. The tide was out making the docks quite a bit lower than the walkway above. As we came down the gangway to the dock I could see the whole scene from above. All the crews were there in the dim rays provided by the dock lights. There were so many conversations going on that it was difficult to pick out just one from a distance. Someone had turned some music on in the background. Every body was eating, laughing, and moving about. One second there would be a group by Dauntless' bow and Sweet Thing's stern, then as the laughter continued the group mingled around and reformed on Sweet Thing's bow and Dauntless' stern. Then everyone momentarily got on the same conversation and an uproarious laughter was heard before they broke up into indiscernable conversation and reformed their groups again.

Right then it hit me: I'd seen this before—I'd found my Pod ;-)

Thanks gang I needed that.


Casting off

—Sean Mulligan

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Interesting character living on a canoe. Check out his rebar anchor. —Eds

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