Ready to Float By Michael

It is kind of an arcane reference, but it keeps occurring to me, so I'm sharing it here: 

Eleanor looking forward to the ride

At Disneyland last month, after waiting in line for the Pirates of the Caribbean ride, we stepped aboard our “boat.” Of course, it didn’t rock or anything as we boarded, it’s on tracks after all, a big roller coaster car in very shallow water. Then, when the operator pushed the right button, there was a bit of a jerk and we rattled forward on the tracks until…that feeling, when that big roller coaster car becomes a boat, driven off the end of the rigid tracks, sinking down a couple inches as it finds its waterline, bobbing just a bit, the unmistakable sensation of floating.

In addition to being an obvious metaphor for our big, pending life change, that Disneyland transition to floating reminds me of a real world transition: of the moment you get offshore in a sailboat and shut off the auxiliary. You know: the sails are up, you are underway with water moving past, heeled a bit, little bubbles left behind in the wake. But your ears and body tuned out the noise and vibration of the diesel 15 minutes ago. It’s only when someone cuts off the fuel, and the oil pressure alarm squawks, and the key is turned off, that it then really feels right, pulled and pushed along by unseen forces, only sailing sounds remaining....ahhhh.

The crews of other boats in Mexico are now writing interesting posts about their final preparations for South Pacific voyages, their fascination with the culture and food that surrounds them, and even the real stresses of family life afloat. In that context, it is pretty pathetic that I am easily stirred by the sensation of floating on a Disneyland ride. But that is an indication of how eager I am to get underway.

Sara of s/v Wondertime just wrote an excellent, manic piece on the stresses of preparing to cast off, to break the ties of land life. She’s got 104 days left on her counter and I’m with her every sentence, feeling the anxiety. In 40 days, our house goes on the market and there is so much to do between now and then...

But I know that when we drive away from it all, enroute to PV, I’ll feel our Ford, with a trailer in tow, jerk a bit as we rattle forward until…that feeling…finding a smooth road, swaying just a bit, the unmistakable sensation of floating…away.

--MR

Inspiration By Windy



Paul and Oli at Koh Samui

My brother just sent this picture from Thailand of himself and my nephew Oliver playing in the water in Koh Samui. Paul and his wife Pao are there now visiting family and showing off Oliver and Pao's belly bulge. They lived on the island for years and still own a home there. They've since moved back to the Bay Area.

Our cruising plans have never been about a circumnavigation, maybe because I insert my fingers in my ears and sing "la la la la" as soon as the subject arises. It's just so far from where I am right now--literally sitting in our house in Washington, DC looking out at the gray trees and piles of dirty snow. Still, seeing this photo I admit to a tickle of inspiration and, for a moment, sailing half way around the world to play on the beach with family seems like a completely reasonable, obvious thing to do. Who knows, maybe that tickle will someday grow enough to propel us around the globe.

--WR

Channelling Baja By Windy

Eleanor's painting reminds me so much of the Sea of Cortez--the red-gold earth against the bluest blue sea and sky. I'm eager to share the magic of the Sea with my girls. --WR  

"This is the best picture I ever painted."



The Gem By Michael



"The Drafting Table, Fuji 40 Review"
Bob Perry, Castoff magazine
September 1978

Okay, I didn’t really swoon (nor tremble) over the paper Windy brought back from Mexico (though I do have strong positive associations with that distinctive saltwater/diesel/boat smell). But I did get excited about a real gem I found among all that paper: a 1978 review of the Fuji 40 that appeared in Seattle’s former Castoff magazine. This is a real treasure. Renowned naval architect Robert Perry (Valiant 40, Tayana 40, Nordic 40, and many more) wrote the review shortly after the first Fuji 40 was launched.

Before we bought our Fuji 40, I looked at all 86 trillion sites on the Internet trying to find information about the boat. I contacted S&S in New York and four Fuji 40 owners registered in the U.S. to learn all I could. For all of that searching and inquiring, I never uncovered a reference to this review. Apparently, Castoff magazine is long gone.

Fortunately for future folks interested in the Fuji 40, the article is now accessible from The Fuji 40 tab on this blog. This is important. After Cruising World published my review of the Newport 27, I wrote here about documenting what little information exists about many older fiberglass sailboats, and contributing to the body of knowledge.

Another curious aspect of this Castoff review is the pictures, or rather, the guy who took them. I’ve seen these same pictures of the Fuji 40 all over the place (online and in the original brochures, available here on this blog), but always without attribution. Here, they are clearly labeled as the work of Stanley Rosenfeld.

So?



Flying Spinnakers, by Stanley Rosenfeld, 1938
http://www.rosenfeldcollection.com/



Stanley Rosenfeld
http://www.rosenfeldcollection.com/

So this guys is cool, or was cool. He died at age 89 in 2002. Apparently, he was a renowned photographer of boats, as was his dad before him. His New York Times obituary included a quote: “He was the dean of American yachting. He was the person who photographers today aspired to be.” He is credited with taking perhaps the most iconic photograph in all of sailing: his 1938 photo of two 12-meter yachts, "Flying Spinnakers."

He was a sailors’ photographer who photographed the America’s Cup for 65 years before finally abandoning the event he loved in 1995. Apparently, his remarkable decision was rooted in his love of the vessels and disdain for the advertising that by then covered them:

“It hurts me to look at them. I understand that the boats cost a great deal of money, and that the teams are very serious. But you shouldn't do that to a yacht.”

--MR

The Great Inkslinger By Michael

Captain Fatty aboard Wild Card
http://fattygoodlander.com/beauty

I’ve made reference to Fatty Goodlander a few times on this blog and his name is probably well-known to most folks who have more than a passing interest in sailboat cruising. He has a column in Cruising World magazine and did a stint on NPR during the summer of 2008. He’s written a few autobiographical cruising books and does a radio show for a Caribbean station.

While I enjoy reading Captain Fatty’s column each month, what makes him important to me is the role he’s played in my writing life.

It has always seemed to me that writers—people we know as writers because they are successfully writing, it’s their identity—just are. That is to say they don’t seem to have a genesis. Sure, you can read writer’s biographies, but I’ve never read one (and admittedly I’ve not read many) that really details the transformation from the person who wanted to write, to the person who wrote successfully—until I read this essay by Fatty Goodlander.

I encourage anyone interested in writing to read it. It is a joy, a real pleasure to read. It is honest and funny.

This essay did two things for me:

Harry Crews
http://harrycrews.org/

First, it inspired me. I read this before we hatched our 5-year plan and it has served since as part of the foundation for my belief that I will be able to earn an income, however meager, selling my words while we are out there. Second, reading this essay gave me cause to explore on the same site the list of writers that inspired Captain Fatty. This was my introduction to Harry Crews, now one of my favorite writers and the one who paved the path for me down a years-long exploration of southern fiction that I had thought ended with Carson McCullers and Flannery O’Connor.

Thank you Fatty.

--MR