The Curve of Time

I feel like a high school student writing a book report. Back then, the objective was to please the teacher and get a good grade. But now, my objective is for this to inspire you to find a copy of this book and to read it.  I don't know if I can make that transition...

The book is The Curve of Time, by M. Wylie Blanchet (ISBN 1-58005-072-7). If you cruise the Pacific Northwest waters on your own boat, or if you do it vicariously from your armchair, or if you would just like to look thru a window into this region as it existed in the 1920's and 1930's, you want this book.

The book is autobiographical; it describes the adventures Ms. Blanchet (Capi) experienced while cruising with her 5 children and a dog aboard Caprice, their 26 foot powerboat.  That is it, in brief.  It is a lyrical and yet detailed view of a storyland world.

But that is too succinct.  I mentioned lyrical - here is a short quote from the forward to tempt you:

"Time did not exist; or if it did it did not matter.  Our world then was both wide and narrow - wide in the immensity of the sea and mountain; narrow in that the boat was very small, and we lived and camped, explored and swam in a little realm of our own making..."

In 1926, Capi's husband, Geoffrey Blanchet, went out on a day trip on the boat.  He did not return.  Caprice was later recovered. But rather than sell the boat, which had to be a constant reminder of the tragedy, Capi instead made it her summer residence.  That says a lot about the woman.  She was courageous, with a will of iron.  Those would lead you to picture a "Rosie the riviter" kind of woman - and you would be wrong.   Capi was not by any means "rough"  -  instead she was by many measures a most civilized person.  She brought an artist's eye to what she did, how she viewed it, and how she recorded it.

The Curve of Time was recommended to us by David and Linda aboard Northern Explorer.  They had a dog-eared copy aboard that they pulled out when they were cruising up north in Desolation Sound, reading from it to each other the passages and chapters relevant to their current locale.

You would not think that a woman who would repair a broken distributor with a hairpin would write like this (randomly chosen passage from page 54, writing about an abandoned Indian village):

We stayed three days in that village; anchored three nights beneath the trees-of-the-dead.  After all, if it were the whispers and echoes of the past we wanted - here they were.

But we left on the fourth day on account of a dog - or rather a kind of dog.  There is always the same kind of peculiar silence about all these old villages - it is hard to explain unless you have felt it.  After wandering and sketching there for three days, without seeing a sign of anything living except the ravens and owls, a little brown dog suddently and silently appeared at my feet.  There is only one way of getting into the village - from the water by the beach.  The forest behind has no trails and is practically impenetrable.  Yet, one minute the dog was not, and then, there it was.  I blinked several times and looked awkwardly the other way...  but when I looked back it was still there.

I spoke to it - but not a sound or movement did it make - it was just softly there.  I coaxed, but there was no sign that it had heard.  I had a feeling that if I tried to touch it, my hand might pass right through.

Finally, with a horrible prickling sensation in my spine, I left it and went down to the beach.  As I reached the dinghy, I glanced over my shoulder to where I had left the dog - it was gone!  But as I turned to undo the rope, it was on the beach beside me.
[...]
Later in the morning I said to John [her young son] - John had been waiting for me in the dinghy at the time -

"John, about that dog..."
"What dog?" interrupted John, busy with a fish-hook.
"That little brown dog that was on the beach."
"Oh that!" said John, still very busy.  "That wasn't a usual dog."

I left it at that - that was what I had wanted to know.

OK, I admit that choosing that one passage cost me a lot of time - I might have read a quarter of the book in doing so.  It really pulls you in.

I will leave you with one final passage to savor - the first words of the first chapter.  Get the book.  It is wonderful. Reading a chapter out loud, at anchor, in the evening is like a dessert - rich and fulfilling. Get the book.

On board our boat one summer we had a book by Maurice Maeterlinck called The Fourth Dimension, the fourth dimension being Time - which, according to Dunne, doesn't exist in itself, but is always relative to a person who has the idea of Time.  Maeterlinck used a curve to illustrate Dunne's theory.  Standing in the Present, on the highest point of the curve, you can look back and see the Past, or forward and see the Future, all in the same instant.  Or, if you stand off to one side of the curve, as I am doing, your eye wanders from one to the other without any distinction.

The Curve of Time

Colorful Holiday Cheer

Walking down the dock yesterday morning, we saw that Dan on Daydream has hung this beautiful wreath on his bow... The bright orange decorations are marina "red tags".

Dan, how long have you been saving up all those tags?

Colorful Holiday Cheer

Lighted Dinghy Parade

In a tradition started by Scott & Angela of Ghost, F and G docks got together for a lighted dinghy parade on Friday nite.  After a day of calm, dry, reasonably warm weather, we gathered off the stern of Reflections down at the head of G dock.  Unfortunately, then it started to rain, but it didn't dampen our spirits any!

So we formed into a train with Nat & Linda from Reflections at the head, and providing the motive power for the seven dinghies.  We were near the end of the train, so it was absolutely quiet back there - the only thing you could hear was the singing.  Oh, the singing.  What it lacked in pitch, cadence and harmony, it certainly made up in enthusiasm.

We had a good time snaking our way down the waterways from F/G all the way to A dock, and then back, caroling (more or less), and wishing a merry Christmas to one and all along the way.

Finally, Nat and Linda hosted us all for Christmas cheer and Nat's special hot buttered rum afterwards.  Yum!

Lighted Dinghy Parade

I learned about sailing from that: Bitter End of the Anchor Rode

We haven't always had Eolian. Before her, we had Deja Vu III, an O'Day 25, a perfect family boat, and a great platform for learning. And boy, did she teach us. Here is one lesson:

The city of Coeur d' Alene, Idaho puts on a fireworks display on Independence Day, over the waters of Lake Coeur d' Alene (for those of you not from the area, that is pronounced "core duh LANE", and means Heart of the Awl). We, along with about a billion other boaters liked to view the display from our boat, out on the water. So that we could focus on the display and not have to worry about the boat drifting into other boats, we wanted to anchor. But the lake is deep, and we carried only 100 feet of rode, just enough to reach the bottom, You know that means we weren't really anchored, but it did slow the drift enough so that we weren't starting the engine every 5 minutes.

As usual, it was a great display. And as usual for the beginning of July in the Inland Northwest, it was cold. When the fireworks were over, I went forward to release the rode from the bow cleat and retrieve the anchor (no windlass here, and the rope rode was fed out a Nicro ventilator on the bow). But my hands were cold and stiff, and when the rode came off the cleat, it slid thru my unresponsive fingers. Since we had it all out, it was only an instant later when the bitter end zipped over the side.

Learnings:

• Anchors are expensive
• Have enough rode to properly anchor
• Always, ALWAYS attach the bitter end of the rode to the boat

Applying these learnings when we became Eolian's owners, we spooled out all the rode (300' of 3/8" chain on the starboard side, 300' of 1" nylon on the port side) to inspect it. Sure enough, neither rode was attached to the boat.

Eolian's chain locker is divided by a partition, separating the port side from the starboard side. I drilled a 1 1/4" hole in the partition and planned to put the bitter end of the nylon thru it and tie a stopper knot.

But how to attach the chain? And with chain rode there is another consideration. If it were necessary to cut the rode and run (the origin of that expression), how might that be done, in a hurry, and under bad circumstances? Here's what I came up with:

• Pull enough nylon rode thru the hole in the partition to reach all the way out the deck pipe on the chain side, and out onto the bow roller.
• Tie stopper knots in the nylon on both sides of the partition
• Make a rope/chain splice, attaching the bitter ends together

In this way, when all the chain is out, there is a rope pendant on its bitter end which could be cut with a knife, in a convenient location out on the bowsprit.

Thankfully, we've never needed it.

---

Years ago when I was a kid, I used to read Flying magazine. I particularly enjoyed a long-running series of articles entitled "I Learned About Flying From That." Each article was written by a pilot, who humbly admitted to having made a mistake, and then having lived, told about it in the hopes that others would not have to make the same mistake. I thought then that it was a good format, and I still think that now. This series of postings is my attempt to recreate that article series with a new subject and new technology.


(If you would like to help others to learn from your mistakes, please send your article to: WindborneInPugetSound at gmail dot com)

I learned about sailing from that: Bitter End of the Anchor Rode