We're outta here... soon.

It's as good a time as any for our 23 year-old aluminum fuel tank to develop a tiny pinhole leak. The nerve! But it's much better to have it here before we leave for the wilds of western Canada. So, another delay which we hope will be over soon. The new tank will be ready in a day or so and we'll install it, adjust the engine and then go. Our original departure date of May 15 was delayed by the last of Karen's physical therapy for a painful frozen shoulder. Delay is a word we should probably become more comfortable with, especially us Ancient Mariners. Nearly two months in the wilderness is another thing we plan to become comfortable with as soon as possible. We'll be back in late July. The new solar panel and inverter makes us energy-independent and free from the need to run the diesel on our 24-foot boat unless we need to. That feels very, very good.

That name! Sockdolager (sock DOLL-ajur) is an old 1800s word no longer in popular use, so Jim decided to bring it back. It means something outstanding, a knockout. People used to say, "That was a real sockdolager!" It's also the name of a set of rapids in the Grand Canyon's section of the Colorado River. Jim, being an experienced whitewater boatman, found the name irresistible. Some find it incomprehensible--at first. Now you know.

Forewordplay Redux: For new readers, there was a post about this a year ago, but it's worth repeating. We didn't really set out on this blog to advertise a certain, um, "aspect" of our adventure, but there it is, writ large in every email: SEXCELLENT. Well, okay then. A new voyaging concept! Once we got over the astonishment that Google Blogspot would take out all the apostrophes and Spaces of Purity in the title (how dare they!) and make that our email address (shocking!) and once we landed in people's spam files and they had to click to confirm we weren't scumbag spammers and to allow us into their emails, and once Karen realized that not only would it be noticed, it would be VERY noticed (nyuk, nyuk) then we settled down to enjoying the arched eyebrows and winks.

But just so you know, this is still a two-person boat.

A Tsunami of Questions

Minstrel is sold and Sockdolager sports lots of improvements as we ready her for cruising. This was taken by Hasse sailmakers off Port Townsend.

A Good Old Boater. Karen here: Good Old Boat Editor Karen Larson’s 4-page article with photos in the May-June issue features Moi, with a few details about the boat—a slight departure for a sailing magazine, but it has been fun. I’ve been getting some great emails from near-flung and far-flung places. This email, from a medium-flung place, is a favorite:

“That I don't know where to start! I read Good Old Boat, you sail my favorite boat! Mrs. Larson mentions your ditch bag, but there was no mention of what items (she said you have the best equipped ditch bag around), I was wondering if a pro would be willing to share? List essentials for the ditch bag, for cruising onboard items, etc? And where can I get more info and boat pics from Dana 24s? What other boats did you consider, or was it love at first sight? What about your first mate? What else did he consider or was there no comparison (boat-wise - I'm sure few women compare to you)? Any hints about changes or updates or additions that should be made to the Dana 24 prior to cruising? How about cold weather cruising (tropical born and raised here and interested in heading north at the end of plan, or should I say beginning?), any tips? Same for your partner since you share the boats, is it fit for two? I've yet to find my first mate, but one should leave options opened by having some room on the boat, right? Spread some of that wisdom - I'm working on a 20 year plan and then I read an article about you doing exactly what I hope to do, you guys even picked the same boat I have my heart set on!
Signed, Jealous”

Dear Jealous,
Well, sheeyoot! Would someone get me a bigger hat? Let’s take these questions in illogical order. First, where to learn everything about the kind of boat we sail, a Pacific Seacraft Dana 24. Go straight to http://groups.yahoo.com/group/Dana_Owners/
for Dana info or to http://groups.yahoo.com/group/Flicka20/ for Flicka (Dana’s little sister) info. You’ll find a large group of enthusiastic owners of these boats happily sharing an encyclopedic amount of information and hundreds of photos on them.

Next, join the Northwest Pacific Seacraft Owners Association, http://groups.yahoo.com/group/NWSeacraft/ which is the fun-loving group in Puget Sound now chaired by…Ta-Daaaaa! Jim Heumann! We have 4 rendezvous per year in different locations around Puget Sound, and you are welcome even if you don’t have a Dana or other Pacific Seacraft or don’t live in the northwest, but want one or want to see one, or couldn’t sail there but can drive there. Yes, join us. And if you’re looking for a new or used Dana, Tom and Max at Seacraft Yacht Sales in Seattle do a fine job. They’re also now the builders of the new Dana 24. http://www.seacraft.com/ There's a new video tour of the new Dana on the Seacraft site. If you’re around Port Townsend from August 6-8, they are also hosting the Pacific Seacraft national rendezvous here, which promises to be mucho fun. Contact them via their web site if you decide to come.

Sockdolager's new dodger and stainless arch, which supports her new solar panel.

Next question: is the boat big enough for two and does it have enough room? Well heck, a double kayak is big enough for two. It’s a state of mind: how well do you get along, are you both roughly equal in skill and confidence, or is one of you over-challenged? We find the Dana to be just big enough to cruise seriously in and still take all the food, water, wine, beer and books we need, yet small enough to fit almost anywhere and very, very fun to sail. If it was a smidge bigger we’d like it, but it’s enough. A lot of people think they need much larger boats so they buy too much boat and then the sheer size of the maintenance and sail handling scares and defeats them. Lin and Larry Pardey's advice still stands after all these years: Go simple. Go small. Go now. I'd add Go quality. Simple is in the eye of the owner, but small means lower dockage and haulout fees, smaller sails, engine, everything. But cheaply built boats are never cheap. Well-built small boats with proper seagoing design can take you anywhere.

Who's the captain? Well, neither of us is the first mate-- we feel equal in skill and knowledge, which means at sea, we trust each other with our lives. And we share responsibilities equally, except for a few areas in which one tends to excel. For example, when it comes to mechanical or electrical there’s very little Jim can’t fix or figure out—he’s fearless. So I’m happy that he has the lead there. Thrilled, in fact. I’ve done celestial navigation and am probably more comfortable with piloting than he is. He’s happy that we have that kind of backup to GPS. I’ve taken meteorology and navigation courses, and he’s taken sail repair and rigging courses. I thought I was pretty good at tying knots, but Jim has long surpassed me. I’ve had more offshore experience than him, so that was helpful in setting up watchkeeping duties. Trusting your lives to each other is no small thing, but you can get there with practice and diligence and alertness. And patience. Lots of patience. Good Old Boat will be publishing a comedy piece by me on the subject of gender communications on a small boat in November.

Next: What updates have been done? Jim will tell you all about that. But to put things in perspective, take the advice of long-term sailors Lin and Larry Pardey: 1) Keep the water out of the boat; 2) Keep yourselves ON the boat; and 3) Keep the boat moving. Cover those basics first: good maintenance, safety gear, ground tackle, and a sailboat’s “engines”--you need good sails in decent condition—this means storm sails (for offshore) as well as light air sails. A light air sail is not a luxury, it’s a necessity (see the upcoming July issue of Good Old Boat for reasons.) If I sound like I’m shilling for GOB it’s because they dish out loads of practical advice rather than shiny reviews of shiny boats no normal person can afford.

Cold-weather cruising: I had a Webasto diesel forced-air heater (about $1500) installed under the starboard coaming in Minstrel and loved it for Alaskan cruising, but in Sockdolager we have a portable propane heater and don’t intend to install a permanent one because we’re heading south next year.

One of Sockdolager's new Turkish rugs.

Other boats under consideration when buying the Dana included the Flicka; both Jim and I independently considered Flickas, but found them just a bit too small for what we wanted. I considered a Cape Dory 27 (nice, but not Va-Voom), and a Cape George 31 (gorgeous but too expensive.) I also love Bristol Channel Cutters, but felt that the long bowsprit might be a lonely place out in the Gulf of Alaska; also, they’re very expensive unless you get lucky. But I still love them. After Jim bought his Dana (now our Dana), he also noticed the Shannon 28 and the Baba 30, but was very satisfied with his choice. The Dana is to pocket cruisers what a little Mercedes is to cars. Every boat's a trade-off. For other “comparables,” a good starting point is marine architect Ted Brewer’s comparisons of similar boats to the Dana in the May-June issue of Good Old Boat. He goes into detail about stability and sailing characteristics. See, you’re just gonna hafta go get that magazine. West Marine and lots of marina stores sell them.

And finally, the ditch bags. Karen Larson has asked me to write an article for Good Old Boat on this, so you’ll have to wait. Except for Jealous, that is. I’ll send him photos and a writeup of the contents because he asked first.

We hosted a rendezvous in April. On the way to a used bookstore on Bainbridge Island, Karen and her friend Patti (co-owner of the Dana Tonic) let things get a little out of control at a Turkish rug shop. They never made it to the bookstore.

Karen is a sucker for a good Turkish rug.

THAT was one big fish...

You are probably not going to believe this, but it's true. Readers of this blog know all about our fishing prowess, which went from zippo to adequate last summer only after herculean efforts that would rival walking on the moon, which some still question. Perhaps you could say this is one giant fish for man and one giant fish story for mankind.

There we were early yesterday morning watching the sun rise over the Cascades and going along all tickety-boo in Minstrel, headed for her new home in Sequim… but first a rendezvous with the fishin' hole in the Strait of Juan de Fuca, the one where the Ultra Top Secret Map said the halibut would be, the one we can't tell you about. We just wanted a small halibut, enough for dinner. Two hours of jigging, nuthin’. Then...

Codzilla took the double-hook herring bait on 40-lb test line, and--I swear I am not making this up—we, meaning our 8500-lb boat, did not move with the tide for 40 minutes. Seaweed passed us--backwards. The fish tussled minimally, which halibut do, so we knew we weren't snagged on the bottom and were probably hooked onto a lunker. I once caught a 100 pounder in Alaska, and this one was behaving the same way. Jim hung on with every ounce of strength. The photo doesn’t half tell the struggle, but Jim’s new nickname is “Dances With Halibuts.” His hands were aching. He couldn’t turn the reel at all, in fact the drag was overwhelmed and he had to hold it back. He didn’t dare move or else he’d lose the whole rig, that’s how hard and steady the fish was pulling.

Every once in awhile it would struggle, so we knew it was a fish and not the bottom. The brand-new rod bent waaaaay over, almost to the water. We thought it might break. We were amazed that the line held, but we had 150 feet out so it was a bit stretchy. I lifted the rod tip because Jim couldn't, and then I’d lower it fast and he'd crank in a few inches every couple of minutes. We managed to wind in 50 feet over 40 minutes, with 100 feet still out and bar-taut. I mean, it was playable like a guitar string. We knew we couldn’t boat such a fish, but we hoped to get a look at it and perhaps cut the wire leader. Lift, crank… lift, crank. 100 feet to go. Then the line broke. Dang! That was one big fish! What kind of fish will do that? An Ohio-class submarine? We’re taking guesses. Fisherpersons, do some math. How big do you think the one that got away was? We haven't figured out how to make the comments section user-friendly, but if you can, leave a comment.

UPDATE: late May--Jim has bought a bigger rod and reel. 130-pound test fishing line. Heeeeere, fishy fishy fishy....

Photo caption: Sunrise over the Cascades from Port Townsend, WA

Welcome Good Old Boat Readers!

We hope you enjoy this blog. More adventuring will begin in May. If you'd like to be on the updates list, email us at karenandjimsexcellentadventure followed by the symbol for "at" followed by gmail dot com.

An update... since March 2009 when Good Old Boat editors Karen Larson and Jerry Powlas came out to Port Townsend to do the interview and Minstrel photo shoot (not to mention all of us having an utter blast,) it will be obvious from reading this blog that of our two Danas, Minstrel was not the boat we sailed last summer. We sailed Sockdolager, and have decided to put our limited funds into upgrading her for more offshore voyaging. It makes no sense to keep two identical boats in good condition and pay all that dockage and insurance. You probably know where this is leading. But wait! There's a surprise! After agonizing for a long time over what's the best thing to do, I decided that letting Minstrel go would be best. Putting a boat in long-term storage is not a healthy option for the boat. So, I am in the process of selling her, but here's the surprise: three separate people asked me earlier this year, "If you ever decide to sell her, let us know." They were all aware of our double Dana dilemma. The first person on the list said yes when I offered her for sale. And that person is none other than Michael! If you read the GOB article, you know who he is. Minstrel will stay in the Puget Sound area as his home away from Alaska, and Jim and I will become co-owners of Sockdolager. Jim will tell you about all the upgrades, additions, gadgets and gilhickies that Sockdolager now sports.

Sockdolager and Minstrel hauled out together at Sea Marine in Port Townsend. The yard crew thought this was so cute they renamed our row "Lover's Lane."

The Crew, The Boat, The Voyage

It’s autumn now and we’re back from this Summer of 2009 Excellent Adventure, but there will be more.  Meanwhile, an introduction for anyone who has just stumbled upon this blog…

The Crew:  Jim Heumann and Karen Sullivan are a couple of recent retirees (him: IBM; her: US Fish and Wildlife Service) who met at a sailing rendezvous and discovered they each owned identical sailboats, loved rowing, loved folk music, loved casseroles, and had enough yadda yadda yadda in common to make Match Dot Com belch.  But there are plenty of differences, too.  For example, they don’t always agree on when to reef.  He likes sci-fi and beer.  She likes literature and Bordeaux.  There is enough room on the boat for lots of beer, or lots of Bordeaux, or lots of books, but not lots of beer, Bordeaux and books.  

The Boat:  Pacific Seacraft Dana 24.  Two of them, his and hers.  Uh-oh.  For specs and descriptions, Google it or start at: http://www.48north.com/mar_2004/dana24.htm  and http://www.seacraft.com/Dana24.htm  Karen bought her Dana, Minstrel, in 2001, after test-sailing one to see if anything that cute could actually sail out of its own way.  She was shocked to find that it was faster than a 21-foot waterline had any right to be, beating out boats with waterlines 5-10 feet longer.  She promptly sailed it up to Prince Wiliam Sound and Seward, Alaska, where she cruised it for 5 years.  In 2005, Jim researched the market thoroughly, looking for the highest quality boat that was easy for a novice to sail and maneuver.  He found his Dana (now named Sockdolager) on the Great Lakes and had her shipped to Puget Sound.  He’s a novice no more, but he’s more convinced than ever that the Dana is the right boat.  Sockdolager was the boat that made the voyage this summer.

The Voyage:  We sailed more than 1600 miles and now we are readjusting to land life. This is a photo of Jim on the first day back. To see a route map, scroll down.  

The Song:  We sailed away from Port Townsend on a four-month cruise,

Out the Strait of Juan de Fuca to the ocean blue,

Up the Island of Vancouver’s fabled western coast,

To the Queen Charlotte Islands, and now we can boast,

We sailed, we fished, we laughed, we wished, we had more time,

But this must rhyme, so… we’ve been everywhere, man, we’ve been everywhere!

This little ditty is the intro to a 5-verse song we wrote about our voyage, to the tune of Johnny Cash’s “I Been Everywhere,” with profuse, abject apologies to Mr. Cash.  We promise to sing our song upon request, and to record it and place the recording on this blog when we can find the time.

Some good links: 

Queen Charlotte Islands Visitor Centre:  http://www.qcinfo.ca/

Parks Canada web site on Gwaii Haanas National Park: http://www.pc.gc.ca/pn-np/bc/gwaiihaanas/index_e.asp

The Council of the Haida Nation:  http://www.haidanation.ca/

(This is the symbol of Gwaii Haanas)

Cruising permit:  You will need to get a permit to cruise Gwaii Haanas National Park, but it's worthwhile because of the "Watchmen" interpretive program at various historic sites, and because visitors really do need a solid orientation before they go.  Most boats travel north and then cross Hecate Strait from the north tip of Banks Island (only 60 miles of open water) and go through the orientation at Skidegate or Sandspit.  We were allowed to do the orientation remotely because we were entering Gwaii Haanas from the south.  They were very helpful and courteous, and sent us a DVD and booklets.  For information, contact them at:

Gwaii Haanas National Park Reserve & Haida Heritage Site of Canada

P.O. Box 37
Queen Charlotte, B.C., Canada V0T 1S0 
(250) 559-8818 
www.pc.gc.ca/gwaiihaanas

Got updates?  If you would like to be added to our email updates list for future adventures, or you just want to get in touch with us, you can use this address:  karenandjimsexcellentadventure followed by the symbol for "at" followed by gmail dot com.  

Final route map

Post Card from the Ocean Road - Home at Last

Home are the sailors, home from the sea, but still feeling the gentle rock and sway of swell that finds its way around corners into snug anchorages, and we’re planning for the next trip. 101 days, wow. You’d think they’d all blur together, so many good ones crowded into a bright blue and sunny summer, but they don’t blur because we wrote down the stories. In a while we’ll post a final route map, some links to good web sites in case you are planning to visit the Queen Charlottes/Haida Gwaii, and other information. And, for all the requests (!!) we’ll put a slide show together.

Photo: Port Townsend waterfront.

Meanwhile, here’s an account of the home stretch: From Comox we sailed to Lasqueti Island and anchored in False Bay. Karen wanted to meet the in-laws of an Australian friend of hers, and we had a nice time with Kath at the pub. (Vic was recovering from a painful hip surgery and couldn’t come.) The winds have been southeasterly since we started trying to go in that direction, but that’s nothing new to the doughty Sockdolagerians, so off we went into the teeth of a nose wind (well what do you call the opposite of a tail wind, anyway?) We made it to Nanaimo, where, with Jim’s old college roommate Bo and his wife Devi, we enjoyed a fun evening at the famous Dinghy Dock Pub. More on that later.

Photo: The welcoming sign at False Bay, Lasqueti Island.



That night about three am, a line squall blew in with winds of 30-35 knots. We knew Sockdolager was securely anchored, but Nanaimo Harbour is a rather open roadstead, with a lot of boats anchored nearby. Like, several dozen boats. Suddenly Karen heard voices (not just the ones in her head) and arose to check it out. “Get up!” she said to Jim, “There’s a boat right in front of us!” And there we were, fending off a 33 foot sailboat T-boned sideways on our bow. It was dragging its anchor merrily through the harbor, and threatening to catch its rudder or propeller on our anchor rode. The panicked owner tried to put his boat in gear just as it came to rest on our rode, and Karen figured this was probably not the best time to tell him not to do that because he wasn’t listening anyway. So we held them off, prayed that this boat had a full keel that would prevent its propeller from turning into a high-speed rope winch, and our prayers were answered. The boat slithered nicely down our starboard side without bumping our hull, and was easy to fend off. Then off they went into the night and the next victim. Soon they got it under control, came back and anchored right next to us—so close that we had to adjust our anchor rode a couple hours later, but hey, who was sleeping anyway? Dennis the Menace was gone by first light--we hope to a marina. Our varnished bow platform and green topsides were unsullied.

While we were whiling away the remainder of the night, Jim said, “Do you realize that the whole time we four people fended each other’s boats off, that not a single word was spoken?”

Karen replied, “Do you suppose it may have had something to do with the fact that you were stick stark naked in a 35 knot gale?”

“But I didn’t have time to get dressed!” he protested. We decided that we may have accidentally discovered a new shock (and awe) technique to cut down on all the yelling and blaming that goes on when a boat drags into you in the middle of the night.


Photo: A schooner broad reaching under foresail and jib, Strait of Georgia.

From Nanaimo we traversed the whirlpools of Dodd Narrows. Hey! Did you hear about the time when the Canadians were going to put a dam across Dodd Narrows, but gave it up because they didn’t want to live with the name Dodd Dam? Us neither, but it was too bad a pun not to include.

Anyway, a howling gale met us in Stuart Channel so we ducked into a small cove to wait out the blow and visit with a couple who are planning to sail their J-36 to Mexico. Because of strong southerly winds forecast, we changed our own plans, and instead of sailing across the Strait of Georgia for the third time to check into US Customs at Point Roberts and meet a friend at Sucia Island, we sailed down the west side of Saltspring Island and spent two days waiting for better weather at Musgrave Landing, once home to Brigadier Miles and Beryl Smeeton and their famous ketch Tzu Hang. The Smeetons, though long gone now, are two of Karen’s sailing heroes. They sailed around Cape Horn twice, and wrote humorously and well of their adventures and misadventures. We hiked trails and roads all around Musgrave Landing, but most traces of the Smeetons seem to have been ploughed under the expensive new homes and older logging roads. However, the best dock party of the summer materialized the minute we got back to the boat. Three very friendly Canadian couples on cruising powerboats invited us to share appetizers with them, and by the end of the evening we were swapping zingers and laughs, singing songs, and keeping up a lot of people in those expensive waterfront homes. The Smeetons would have approved, we think.

Photo: Impromptu dock parties are always the best.

We crossed Haro Strait in gale force nose winds, because we wanted to be out there. Roche Harbor on San Juan Island was a wind-hole as we tied up at the Customs dock, but we found a sheltered spot to anchor for the night. The next day we caught the tides perfectly (for once!) and made it across a flat calm Strait of Juan de Fuca to anchor off Port Townsend in mid-afternoon. Not 15 minutes went by before Jim’s phone rang. We’d been spotted! Holy halibut! The reunions have been joyful, and we’ve missed all our friends.

Now that we’re home and looking forward to the Wooden Boat Festival, we’d like to share some of the best of a best summer with you.

THE VERY BEST STUFF:

Photo: Jim with his best catch. This one took awhile to eat.

Best Sounds: The sound of a large whale breathing. It is, well, breathtaking. Also, the sound of several thousand seabirds waking up hungry in the morning.

Best Tides: Canada wins. 24 feet is a lotta water to move every 6 hours (Skidegate Channel.) Unless you go all the way to Alaska’s Cook Inlet, where you get 34 feet plus tidal bores, which are anything but boring.

Best Stories from Other Cruising Boats: Just after we crossed Hecate Strait back to the mainland from the Queen Charlotte Islands, we met a lone Frenchman in Spicer Island anchorage. He bought his boat, a sturdy steel cutter, in Singapore, and sailed it from there to the northern BC coast. He went via the Great Circle Route, past Japan and through the Aleutians. It took him 122 days, nonstop.

The Hats Off prize goes to Foxglove, a 40 foot sloop owned by Yoshi and Fumiko, from Japan. Actually, the prize is Fumiko’s, because the 72-day crossing of the Pacific (for which they’d only put 65 days worth of food aboard) was her FIRST sail. That woman has chutzpah.

Best Pub: We doubt anyone can beat the floating Dinghy Dock Pub at Protection Island in Nanaimo Harbour, where the “parking” signs say ‘Bow in, please,’ the Friday night race fleet sails within ten feet of the pub’s deck, which rocks and rolls in ferry wakes, and the bartender calls the race (which goes through the anchorage) play-by-play in a most racy manner over the pub’s sound system. All this and excellent food and grog, too!

Best Beer--Canadian or American? Are you kidding? You think we want to start a war or something? The only thing we’ll say about it is Jim’s quote: “Cheap beer tastes the same the world around.” But we have to give the Most Original Packaging Award to Canada, whose Pacific brand comes with a sailboat on every can and an insulated backpack for each case. We kid you not. A real beer backpack.

Cutest Sign Ever: We nominate Meeghan’s General Store in Queen Charlotte City as the winner. The photo shows their business hours. Meeghan’s, which sells fishing tackle as well as hardware, bills itself as “The best little lurehouse in Queen Charlotte City.” That’s our story and we’re sticking to it.

Best So-Called Food: Cuisines are fairly similar, but some things stand out. Potato chips: No one beats Miss Vickie’s Canadian chips. Grab every bag you can get your greasy little fingers on. Cheerios: Do the Canadians like them mushy? American version is better. Ketchup: Canada’s is zingier and we like it better. Baked beans: Definitely American, Canadians don’t understand the recipe. Sliced, individually wrapped sandwich cheese: The Canadian stuff melts in the ice box and tastes weird. Buy real cheese. Candy: Malteasers vs Whoppers: Malteasers don’t even tease. Buy Whoppers.

Photo: Karen cooks fresh-caught Salmon a la Sockdolager. Mae and Marty from Prince Rupert were our guests that night. Marty Bowles photo.

Other foodstuffs: Lest you think we ate nothing but junk food washed down with beer, we found Canadian fresh produce to be locally grown more often than you see in the States unless you go to a food co-op. Their meats are comparable in price and quality except in remote areas, where it’s all frozen and very, very expensive. Learn to fish. For some strange reason we don’t get, Wonder Bread dominated the bread shelves while multi-grain bread was scarce. Learn to bake bread. We did both, ate like kings, and even managed to lose weight.

Best New Words in Sockdolagerese: One thing we learned from this trip is that there are not enough words to describe some of the things we encountered. For example, what do you call it when the water is so roiled with little whirlpools that it knocks the boat’s bow off course? That word is “currentiferous.” A companion adjective describes the situation when you encounter the engine-stopping qualities of narrow, kelp-clogged channels.

Karen: “The port side of the channel is rather kelpaceous.”

Jim: “I’m steering around it.”

You know how it can be blowing really hard but it’s sunny, so you go sailing anyway, but if it was blowing the same amount with dark clouds you’d stay in port? Jim invented a word for the visual degree of dark rainy threat from the sky.

Jim, looking out a porthole: “The ominiscity’s way up.”

Karen: “Let’s stay in port.”

We invite you to help come up with a word for when the GPS course on an electronic chart tries to take you over dry land. Winner will be announced right here.

Photo: Jim & Karen enjoying a night of cribbage with Mae and Marty aboard Wild Abandon. Marty/Jim vs Mae/Karen. Is the winner obvious, or what? Marty Bowles photo.

AND FINALLY… Best Boat Names with Unintended Meanings: Earlier in this blog you read about boat names such as “Rita’s Mink” and “Passing Wind,” which tend to elicit speculation on the owner’s judgment for inflicting them on others over the radio. Try to imagine the reaction in a hardworking Coast Guard rescue office:

Coast Guard: “Vessel Requesting Assistance, this is the United States Coast Guard. Can you say again your name and the nature of your distress?”

Vessel Requesting Assistance: “Passing Wind! We’re Passing Wind!”

Coast Guard (stifled laughter): “Er, is that your name, sir, or the nature of your distress?”

Some name-karma is self-inflicted. For example, never name your boat “Payday” unless you want strong, vigorous responses every time you use the radio. Ditto for “Bon Bon.” Of course, with a name like Sockdolager, Jim was just asking to spend an inordinate amount of time explaining its meaning and pronunciation to passers-by, so we should talk, huh? But while we’re at it, boat names like “Post Card” or “Ghost Bard” are probably ill-advised, too. There is one name, however, that we would absolutely LOVE to see. Would someone please name their boat “Spartacus”? Oh, we hope so, it would be such fun on the radio:

First Boat: “Spartacus, Spartacus, Spartacus, this is Sockdolager.”

Second Boat: “I AM SPARTACUS! Go to Channel 68.”

Third Boat: “I AM SPARTACUS! Channel 9!”

Fourth Boat: “I AM SPARTACUS!” etcetera. Fun, huh?

But we started this little rant talking about unintended meanings. Sometimes it happens by accident. For example, one of the boats in the Nanaimo Dinghy Dock Pub racing fleet was a sleek, black-hulled racing machine named “Blackadder,” and it had this problem. Just below the outboard mount, the letters “ck” were nearly chafed off, so that from a short distance away you’d read the boat’s name as the “Blaadder.” Considering this particular boat’s beer-loving crew, the new name kind of works.

There are two boats cruising in Canada that we know of named “Kafka.” On the first, crewed by a nice couple of deep thinkers, the name is clearly visible on their gleaming transom. On the second, the letter “f” is blocked from view by their outboard rudder. Maybe they have more time to think deeply because they get so few radio calls.

Finally, there’s a powerboat on Puget Sound called the “Salty Lass,” but when they swing their transom gate open, the “y” in Salty and the “L” in Lass disappear. Makes you wonder…

Photo: Happiness is a good day sailing...