• The Wicca Chronicles"

• "The Yelling Machine"

• "IBM...where Yuppies fear to tread."

• "Dancing with Arthur"

The Wicca Chronicles"

“pass the cream please”

by Jill Brown

vid readers of this column have been demanding photos of our heroine, the "SS Wicca". The only photo I have available is one of her wearing a chic black tarpaulin, otherwise known as The Gull Hat. This photo leads me to deep thoughts on the problem of seagull excreta.

Anyone who has canvas knows that seagulls are a constant threat to both the canvas and the sanity of the boatowner. It took us only a few days of powerboat ownership to discover that gulls love to perch on any kind of canvas boattop, and that brown canvas is their particular favorite. (Of course, we all know that the seagull-perching is not the real problem here, but delicacy forbids my mentioning the other word in print.)

In any case, after several hours of scrubbing the canvas, which produced less than satisfactory cleaning results but did a good job of removing the waterproofing, we began to investigate various seagull deterrents. You know what folks? There aren’t any. Yup, we might be higher up on the food chain, but the gulls have a more highly developed nervous system. After much research in boating catalogs and conversations with similarly afflicted boaters, we faced the awful truth: nothing scares the common seagull - not plastic owls, not bright-colored windsocks, not those fancy rotating-rod thingamies.

Captain Bill lay awake nights planning wondrous inventions to do the job (and possibly make a buck in the process). He conjured up wire grids to give them electric shocks when they landed on the boat and elaborate alarm systems to frighten them away. Visions of quick-fried seagulls and irate neighbors rose in my head and these plans were reluctantly shelved. The word shotgun was mentioned but only once or twice.

We finally settled on the tarpaulin solution, which is cumbersome and messy but effective. Here’s how it works: when it’s time to go boating, the tarp is removed and gingerly dunked in the lake to remove the gull droppings. It’s then thrown into the dingy to wait for our return. Upon returning from our cruise, we retrieve the damp, crumpled tarp and with great effort and much cursing manage to drape it over the boat canvas and hook it to various points with bungees. This is almost impossible to do at night, or in a high wind, by the way.

With luck and not too much wind from the south, the tarp will still be in place when we check it a week later. This is a clumsy solution, but it’s better than ruined canvas and gull doo-doo in your breakfast coffee. Trust me on this.

WICCA PROUDLY ANNOUNCES: The photos of Captain Bill in his bottom-painting outfit (Harborwatch, May 30 - June 5) are finally available. Please call for copies and to arrange for a personal signing.

"The Yelling Machine"

“OK, OK don’t have a spass.”

by Bretton Gardner

Age 9 Grade 4

Boom!
“Ow!”
“What happend now?” my dad said.
“I hit my head.”
Are you all right?”
“I think so.” I said wearily.
“Why don’t you come up?”
“OK.”

OK, let’s get to business. The place where I bumped my head was the downstairs of our sailboat, while I’m supposed to get my raingear on for the race, and... Bang!! Ten minute gun. Sorry, can’t talk any more. Bang!! Five minute gun. “Get on the starting line!! Bretton, get in the back”,my dad said.

“OK, OK don’t have a spass.”
Ah, you, go, tack, cross, and on and on, and on.
Sailors were yelling like crazy. Bang!! “Good start, guys.”
“Heat it up, Harold. Tilt is on your tail”, my dad said to our steerer.
“Demon went,”
“Let him, it’s the wrong way,” Bill said. “Bretton, be ready on the pole,”
“I will, Bill.”
“Puff in three, two, one, You’re in it.”
“Mark, if we tack w”...
“Bill, concentrate on your job, not mine.” (By the way Mark is my dad.)
“OK, we’re going to round the mark.”
“Bill, Bill, Bill!! Look where you are!”
“Oh, Bretton, pole up.”
“I’m on it.”
“Halyard #*&!2 I put it on the wrong side $&*#@!”
“Tilt is rolling us.”
“* up.”
“We got the chute up. Now we got to get our time back on Tilt, so jibe, Bill, Bill, Bill!!!”
“What?”
“Gybe!”
“Oh #*!.”
“Get in his wind Harold. You can do that.”
“No, we can’t do that.”
“* up and look for puffs, Bill.”
“Tack, Harold, you got Tilt in bad wind and you don’t want to get in that wind too.”
“We’re almost to the finish line so head to it.”
Bang!!
“Yahoo! We won!”
“World record, I didn’t yell that much,” my dad exclaimed.
You didn’t?” I yelled.
I didn’t!”
“You didn’t?”
“I didn’t!.”
“Ya, if you think when people in China can hear you is not yelling.”

OK, now that you heard my story I bet you know what happens on our boat. Bretton Gardner has raced with his dad since he was five. He is in seventh grade at Colchester Middle School and is enrolled in the Malletts Bay Boat Club junior sailing program as an intermediate sailor. Recently, after reading this story he said, “When I wrote this story I didn’t know what it all meant, but now I do!”

"IBM...where Yuppies fear to tread."

“The Return of the Floating Gourmet”
Indian Bay Marina

omewhere over Saudi Arabia while counting the oil wells my associates and I have invested in an uncontrollable desire came over me to visit the family camp on Lake Champlain. Calling ahead I instructed our chief of staff to open the camp for the summer.

After clearing customs at Kennedy, Biff and I fired up the Otter and proceeded straight to camp. We enjoy our visits to the north country bearing in mind the reduction of staff gives us only the basics. As we pulled up to the dock we were greeted by the lonesome sound of a loon while it swam toward the cove. It felt good to be back on the lake.

Saturday morning Biff and I arose to a beautiful northcountry sunrise and began charting our day. One of the activities we enjoy most about coming to camp is planning or culinary visits. With the reduction of staff Biff and I are relegated to eating out, a task we eagerly peruse.

Our first stop was an old favorite, Indian Bay Marina Restaurant. The staff had done an excellent job of sprucing up the boats, so we choose the classic 1926 runabout “Natalie”. Although she lacks some of the creature comforts we expect in a yacht, she makes up for these short comings with her style.

As we approached Pumpkin Reef on the east side of Willsboro Point our handheld GPS notified us that we getting close to our destination. Biff took over the helm and guided us around the point and headed southwest towards Indian Bay Marina. The GPS confirmed we had arrived at our destination. (44o 25' 50" N, 73o 23' 45" W.) After securing “Natalie” to the dock and topping off the fuel tank we proceeded toward the restaurant. It was good to see that little has changed at one of our favorite waterside eateries. Inside the restaurant we were greeted with a warm hell-o by our waitress Natalie, (good omen) we knew our visit was going to be enjoyable.

To my surprise, hung on the south wall was a copy of Harborwatch and the article Biff and I wrote in 1992. You remember, the year Ross Perot couldn’t make up his mind whether he was a candidate or not. Biff thinks he had it out for President Bush, but I disagree, I just think he likes to stand up, point at charts and tell funny stories. I guess we will find out soon enough!

The Indian Bay Marina Restaurant offers a casual setting where after a long day on the water you can feel at home. The “upstate New York” atmosphere lingers, giving the sensation from a different era where Yuppies fear to tread. Shorts, T-shirts and sandals are the excepted attire so Biff and I felt a little out of place in our ascots.

The menu features, fish, shrimp, steak and pasta along with an excellent selection of salads. As a treat, Biff and I ordered cheese burgers. I remember the one I had on my previously visit and to my satisfaction this one lived up to my expectations. Served with fries I ordered a small salad to balance out the meal. In true upstate New York fashion I sampled a local beer, Genesse. To my surprise and might I say delight, Genesse is a smooth and mellow beer, served frosty cold right out of the bottle. It is the right beer for a burger and fries.

After the main course Natalie tempted us with an excellent dessert selection but as both Biff and I are somewhat conscious of our calorie intake, we declined. I must confess, I did order another Genesse after dinner. Both Biff and I enjoyed our visit to Indian Bay and recommend it to any yacht looking for a casual meal served it that famous upstate New York fashion. Forget that local home brew they serve in the big city, slide on up to the bar and order a Genny.

"Dancing with Arthur"

"Suddenly, the SSB became more popular than the CD and the barometer watched more closely than the clock."

by Captain Tom Carr

“Well, we may have some bad weather coming.”

hese are not words any seaman likes to hear, and when they are uttered by the captain of a 120 foot schooner that is 500 miles offshore they tend to increase your pulse rate substantially! The tropical depression that had boiled out of the Gulf of Mexico in mid June this year had intensified to Tropical Storm Arthur, and was heading NE from the Carolina coast. A quick look at the plotting sheets showed a potential for a mid ocean meeting between Arthur and our ship sometime in the next two days. We were making our passage from St. Maarten in the eastern Caribbean to New Brunswick and had enjoyed fine wind and weather for the past 1000 miles, rolling along at 8 and 9 knots on a beam reach. However, the recent weather forecast seemed to herald the end of those pleasant days.

The “Regina Chatarina” is a steel hulled 120 foot topsail schooner that was completely rebuilt in 1992 by her owner/captain Anton Jacobsen. The ship is truly a thing of beauty: the salon has four octagon tables with plush bench seats surrounding them, and fine woodwork abounds. A spiral staircase (!) leads below decks to eight private cabins that have either two or three berths, ample closet space, a wash basin with HOT and cold fresh water, and they are either heated or air conditioned as required. The head, located at the end of the below decks passageway, is better than those found on some ocean liners, with four roomy showers, two sinks with good lighting and mirrors, four stools, and tile floors. Above deck there is the usual mass of rigging associated with a two masted schooner, and a compass and steering station aft on the poop deck. However, the real beauty of the ship is its wheelhouse, located just aft of the mainmast. Here you find all the electronics, steering station, helmsman’s chair, radar and radios, chart table and a CD player! After standing watch in this environment you would find it hard to go back to the more common arrangements that put you so close to the elements! The ship is well found, and meets all requirements for a safe passage with two SOLAS approved rafts in containers, two EPIRBS, SSB, two GPS units, and a 300 hp Cummings diesel with sufficient fuel to carry it almost 1000 miles. Nine tons of fresh water are carried, and ample refrigeration complements a well stocked galley. The ship sets a gaff-rigged fore and main as well as a club-footed staysail, three headsails, topsails for the fore and main, and a single squaresail carried on a yard mounted on the fore.

Our departure from St. Maarten had been seven days before, and we had passed some 40 miles east of Bermuda the previous day. Although the GPS was the prime navigational tool, I religiously took my sextant sights and was pleased to see that the GPS was not that inaccurate! We stood three hour watches, two people to a watch, with the next six hours off. Sail handling was minimal, and consisted mostly of setting and striking the topsails, depending on the wind velocity. Topsails usually came down at nightfall, as did the flying jib, as squalls did blow up from time to time and they were impossible to see as there was no moon. It had been a wonderful trip so far, with sunny days and clear nights, and steady east winds that ranged from 10 to 30 knots. However, the word from Herb Hilgenberg (southbound Two) and the High Seas broadcast from November Mike November threatened an end to the good weather. Suddenly, the SSB became more popular than the CD and the barometer watched more closely than the clock.

With the storm center approaching from the SW, we watched our winds back to the ENE and then to NE by E. As gaff rigs do not go well to the wind, our speed dropped from 8 knots to 7 and then to 6. I kept remembering Satchel Paige’s remark: “don’t look back, somethin’ might be gainin’”.

However, luck and good seamanship by Captain Jacobsen saved the day. We bore off slightly and called the big Cummings from its slumber and scampered north at a respectable speed and watched Arthur slip behind us enroute to the Grand Banks off Newfoundland. We continued on in fog, growly seas, and chill temperatures to St. Andrew, New Brunswick where we anchored safely after a fast 11 day, 1700 mile passage.

Tom Carr lives in Burlington and teaches celestial navigation.