Greatest Father's Day Gift

Two times in the last week my wife has uttered three sacred words in reference to sailing, "I had fun." Once out with baby Quinn, and out today on our own. The grandparents tended Quinn while Deanna and I took out The Quinn Anne's Revenge, for a little afternoon spin.

Light winds, which Deanna likes, gave way to no wind, which are hard for anyone to like when it's 88 degrees. Undaunted, we motored out of the harbor, anchored up, and floated astern, beers in hand. Deanna offered, "sailing can be fun." As if it were a huge surprise. Maybe it is a surprise.

Sailing... In teaching others, I'm forced to think of what it means. We did sail today, after floating. The wind came up, leading a line of thunder storms that failed to truly materialize. We sailed back into the harbor under unsteady winds that couldn't quite decide where they wanted to originate. Dead down wind--of course.

Deanna was unruffled. We jibed pretty cleanly cruising into the harbor, headed up, dropped the sails, and motored in. It could have gone one hundred different ways though; more floating and pleasantries, or more violent and punctual thunder storms. How does one decide that either way it's worth the effort?

I wonder why that is for me. I've had as many pleasant, as unpleasant experiences in boats. I don't think it's an equation thing--more good times than bad. I think there is something more. Either the water grabs you, as something bigger than you and worth understanding, or as something unpredictable, and better left alone. Maybe it's like any relationship. Sometimes it works out, and other times it doesn't, and nobody really knows why.

A Shad Boat

I had a meeting this weekend that has solidified an idea in my mind. That idea is of a boat. And it is keeping me up.

The basic problems which Creef tried to cope with were the extent of shallow water, which necessitated a shallow draft boat, and the extreme and rapid changes in wind velocity in the sounds, which called for the use of a large amount of sail during calm periods and of practically none when squalls came up. Creef designed a round-bottom boat with a square stern, a sharply pointed bow, and a shallow keel. He fitted it with a large sprit mainsail and a jib, not an unusual rig in those days-and then added a topsail which could be raised and lowered independently of the others. (From The Outer Banks of North Carolina , David Stick 1958)

I've been contemplating building a boat for months now - ever since I started sailing the Quinn Anne's Revenge . Sailing created a relationship with the water not too distant from human interaction on land. The boat is the vehicle that shapes that relationship. And the capability of the vessel determines the tone. The Quinn Anne's Revenge is a home made pocket cruiser. A toy, and a whimsically born one. She is well suited for warm summer days, and pleasant breezes, and for heading in when these are in short supply. Diversion.

The shad boat can be something completely different. It's a traditional boat, and it could open up an opportunity for a more traditional relationship to my local waters.

The shad boat seems to me a tool that I could use to pull a living from the sounds and rivers around my home - and not a living that reduces the local fishes to a commodity of protein. A boat like this could open up a new way to see the area. A way that might be worth sharing in print.

My meeting Sunday could have been held in 1910 as easily a 2010. The scene may have been slightly different, but the discussion might have sounded similar. There's a replica of a shad boat in the Manteo Harbor, but that won't do exactly. Boats are testaments and engines of innovation. Cold molding - by no means an innovative technology today - is like the shad boat, tried and tested. And plans of shad boats are available, but they are approximations. The boats were built in backyards, to specifications of necessity. I have my own, and the discussion of these elements with a craftsman that can realize, and guide, them marks the birth of the boat. The actual craft may not see water until next summer, but the boat already exists.

In two minds, two images of the same boat are taking shape. One mind sees the design elements in terms of structure, aesthetics, and form. The other sees function, shape and purpose. The craft taking shape will not be a replica. It will be a purpose driven boat, taking cues from a classic design. Improving safety, performance and longevity through the use of modern materials, and modifications aimed at specific performance goals. A cabin or canvas canopy will be necessary to protect Quinn from the sun and facilitate camping. The cockpit will be self-bailing. The sprit main sail will be replaced with a gaff-rigged main. Weight saved by cold molding will be replaced lower to stabilize and increase performance to windward. The centerboard is still up in the air, or rather up in the minds.

Maybe I'll be able to write about the experience and help pay for the boat. Maybe not. Maybe I'll simply learn how to build a boat, and show my daughter her home from a different angle. Either option or a combination the the two seems worthwhile.

I'm Missing Something

I hate to get back to the oil spill, but, as a coast dweller and a new father, I can't think about much else. I take my daughter sailing, because I believe there is something sacred on the water that cannot be explained, and must be experienced. I find it morally reprehensible that BP is ruining oceans, lives, and futures, and bumbling to find a solution.

But I don't want complain in hyperbole, or appeal to emotion. BP's third quarter earnings for 2009 were around 4.67 billion dollars.
http://www.nytimes.com/2009/10/28/business/global/28bp.html

I've heard varying accounts, mostly from BP, about how they are spending som 20 million a day on clean-up.

Sources are saying that the spill clean-up and associated liability could top 53 billion.
http://www.reuters.com/article/idUSN0216823020100602

And, shockingly, that BP could survive this.

I hope they don't.

Simple math: aprox 4.5 billion per quarter is aprox 18 billion a year.

35 billion divided by 18 billion puts the recovery time at about 1.9 years.

Great, by the time my daughter is three. BP will have completely recovered from losses associated with this unnecessary manmade disaster. If gas prices continue to rise, it will probably take less time. I'll wager this though. Louisiana's wetlands and Mississippi's beaches probably won't be worth visiting in two years, accept as an object lesson. The bills will be payed, BP's CEO will have, "his life back," as he so eloquently put it, and life will go on.

I read that BP's stock slipped 2.something percent yesterday, and then rebounded. Shame on us for betting with our wallets. They will survive, and so, it's probably wise to hold onto their stock. I'm sure the mutual funds in my retirement account own some BP. Shame on us. If a 35 billion dollar clean-up doesn't put them out of business, our consciences should.

My dad is pretty damn conservative. Not an activist by any means. But, he reads National Geographic from cover to cover every month. He hasn't bought a drop of Exxon gas since 1989, and he will shame anyone who does. If the cost of this clean-up doesn't put BP out of business, we should.