Boat Farts: Being a Treatise on the Role of the Passive Senses in Seamanship

I recently viewed a humorous U-tube spot on the role of gaseous effluvia as an indication of relationship phase. Goofy- yes, but much truth is spoke in jest.

This got me thinking about how similar one’s relationship with the boat-home is to a human relationship. There is, in fact, a branch of marine services known as ship husbandry. It has nothing to do with marriage, except that it is about an individual getting to know a ship as well as if it were a spouse. I sometimes muse on this field when I hear of places where living aboard a boat full time is restricted or outright banned. There was a not distant time when constant human presence was required on many commercial vessels.

But I digress. The topic at hand is that of how time and familiarity grant a subconscious monitoring system of our vessels through the passive senses of sound and smell. Feel is an equally valid sense, though probably too broadly defined for me to cover here.

I will start with smell. I do this at least in part as a result of a very “fresh” experience with an O.P.B. (other person’s boat.)

There is no more potent player in the olfactory indicator game than the black water or sanitary system on a boat. On a recent delivery, a failed hose connection in this system resulted in a nose-hair searing night before the bilges could be opened and the defect repaired. This would be on the “why my composting toilet is my friend” list. In a less “in your face” example, the exhalation of the holding tank vent can indicate to the experienced nose, exactly how close one is to a pump-out need. The compost head equivalent is that the more one feels in proximity to a newly plowed field on approach to the vent, the nearer it is time to empty the chamber into the post-composter and start a new batch.

Stepping up a half notch from the gutter, the gray or waste wash water system is next in line as a nasal assault weapon. I use the leg from a pair of nylons as a filter on each of the drain inlets to my waste water sump tank. I can’t quantify, but I know it’s an effective way to catch most of the run off that my pump would choke on, and consequently, most of the nitrogen source that would grow into odoriferous sludge in the tank. But over time, the filters get clogged and need to be replaced. When the water pumped out has any detectable odor, I can be sure the “filters” are full and it’s time to put on a good disguise and hit the ladies’ lingerie section at Wallyworld.

And now, exiting the poop-deck, I will bring the discussion into more civilized surroundings. Almost. The bilge is a great receiver of smell sources known and unknown. I once did battle for months with a bilge sludge that looked and smelled like petroleum slime. It was a classic case of mistaken identity, false prosecution, and the domino effect all in one. I scrubbed and vacuumed countless times. I wrapped the engine in diapers like a new born’s bottom. Not a drip could be found, but still the stinky sludge grew like a Purdue chicken on double steroids. The problem persisted until one morning in Marigot, St. Martin, I discovered numerous empty Coke cans in the bottom tier of the drink mixers locker. These, in turn were corroded through by pinhole a leak in the anchor washdown hose running through that locker. The sludge-like goo was growing on the Coke-a-Cola syrup. So you see, my friends, what mixeth well with rum makes for nasty bilge stink too. For the sake of my personal bilges, I’ve switched my staple sundowner from the Cuba-Libre to rum and tonic. The quinine helps keep the malaria at bay too.

Engine antifreeze is environmentally bad stuff. Even the Low and non-tox stuff has a very distinct sweet smell. This is good in that it makes itself known quickly when it is not where it’s supposed to be. It’s bad when you tear apart your cooling system looking for the leak only to discover it’s a pin-hole in the spare jug in the sail locker. Incidentally, that one has caused me to pack all my bottles of spare fluids and spray cans in ziplocks with absorptive material in the bag.

Finally, the galley has it’s own passive indicator. I cook with propane. Yes- it can be dangerous. Yes- I have an electronic sniffer gadget to make noise if it leaks. And yes, I do occasionally test said gadget with butane lighter gas to make sure it’s working. But on a more routine basis, I have become sensitized to the smell of burned propane to the point that I can detect the end of the one cylinder in my system a day or two in advance. For some reason, the odor making component added to propane is most concentrated just before the tank is empty. The burned gas odor is noticeably stronger with this last blast of gas.

Sound is my other favorite passive sense onboard. In fact, I will often make a game of guessing exactly what a sound is for a while before I actively go hunt it down. I also believe that the premonition of impending danger that so often warns sailors before a collision has to do with sound transferred into the drum-like interior of the boat through the water. I have known this experience and would almost classify the prop noise as felt more than heard as it was more a pressure pulse felt in the ear.

Engine monitoring is a good example. The ear desensitizes to white noise after a while, but can remain quite alert to changes in that noise even in sleep. Once on a delivery I awoke after sensing a change in engine RPM and went on deck to see if there was a problem. I was assured no one had touched the throttle. I was just voicing a thought about checking the fuel filter vacuum gauges when the engine slowed and stopped. Clogged fuel filter. On Charis, I do not have fuel filter gauges, but I know at the first drop in RPM that it’s time to switch filters.

My mainsail cover is old and the snaps are getting loose. In strong wind it flaps a bit, but if I listen carefully, I can tell when that flapping includes a snap that has released. This vigilance comes from the hard lesson of sanding and varnishing on the boom after the loose snap ends gouged it badly.

Sometimes they stump you for days. A loose headsail sheet got me this way recently. It was just loose enough to flap its turning block from side to side, yet smart enough to cease to do so every time I put my kindle down to go find the noise source. I was no speed reader that day.

I have a fail safe in my anchor roller system based on noise. If it starts to blow hard enough to decrease the anchor or mooring line catenary’s angle, the line will begin to snag on the big plow. The clanging noise below is impossible to sleep through and can only be cured by properly inverting the anchors to prevent chafe.

Halyard clanging is a hot topic of contention. I do my best to control it, but with external halyards, it seems it can never be entirely eliminated. The game, though, is to get to where you can tell which halyard is in motion, and by that and the frequency, from which quarter the wind is blowing and how hard.

The wind turbine is another audible wind indicator. I wish it were silent, but since it is not, I have simply learned to associate noise amplitude and pitch with a wind speed and power production level. Must be time to replace it soon and try to learn this trick all over again.

That’s what happened with the old Jabsco reciprocating water pump. I swear I could just about predict when the tanks were about to run dry based on a subconscious counter of the number of pump pulses heard or seen by the flicker of the cabin lights. My new variable speed wobbler-plate pump is far to stealthy for me to have any premonition of empty tanks.

And could someone please tell me why mooring pick up floats are always cylindrical? Flat sided ones would float just as well and would not roll side to side on the deck just above my head in strong winds. Come to think of it, I might just market such a thing myself. It would certainly be nice to eliminate that particular "thunk, thunk" wake up call.

I realize that some of this might come across as impossible sounding (pun intended.) But the thing to remember is that Charis and I have been fairly inseparable for 20 years now. This, in a boat as in a relationship, must have evolved my involuntary senses along pathways that even I can’t understand. It’s scary in a way, but comforting in many ways. More than anything, this is the reason I advocate cruising in a familiar boat over a big or new boat. Obviously this idea carries further limitations, but all things within reason.

As a teaser to a later treatise on the role of the sense of feel in seamanship, I will mention 2 examples. First, noted expert on primitive navigation techniques, David Lewis, reported that Polynesian pilots would sit astride the cross beams of their catamarans to sense the ocean swell motion with their most sensitive parts. True or false I cannot confirm, except to say that they were invariably male. And lastly in an unabashed brag, I once steered a heavy displacement sloop on a reach with hull speed in excess of apparent wind speed for over an hour in my sleep. My watch mate will swear to it without coercion. Wind on my cheeks and wheel against my hand were my only conscious functions, apparently. But then that’s my favorite state awake too, so no surprise there.

Take the time to develop your instincts, then let instinct be your most valuable seamanship skill.

Trying to Maintain Reason in Hurricane Season….

The best way to learn something is to explain it. Several times. To that end, here’s a first draft of my storm preparation plan, a.k.a., “the drill.” To date it has existed only in my head and been performed in a state of manic frenzy.

For the simple reason that most dock owners will not allow boats on their docks in extreme conditions, this assumes your boat is on a mooring.

This is by no means an absolute or complete list. In fact, this is the blog entry I hope to expand most by viewer comment, so please feel free to add and modify my ideas with yours!

Phase I: Given likely time constraints, this is generally done at the first indication of potential weather exceeding normal storm intensity.
1. Get all seasonal toys that would otherwise soon be removed anyway off the boat. Kayaksand awnings on deck, as well as seasonal toys in the lockers are included.
2. Inspect the mooring top to bottom. It doesn’t matter if someone else just did this. It’s your boat not theirs. Leave nothing as is if it causes doubt. Never, ever rely on a single attachment to your primary mooring chain. I consider 2 lines to be the minimum. Obviously this requires vigilance to prevent twisting and therefore chafe of the lines on each other. Extra length in one of the two lines is helpful. See below for thoughts on line stretch snubbers.

Phase II: This stage kicks in for me when Tropical storm conditions become likely and Hurricane conditions become maybe.
1. Strip headsails from their furlers and stow. Furling gear is often overwhelmed in high winds, and even a tiny patch of sail will increase the amount of mooring sailing your boat does. That in turn results in acceleration loads on your mooring gear, and acceleration loads are what break gear, unless chafe gets it first.
2. Flip your anchors or take them out of the roller. Whatever angle your mooring lines make under normal conditions, it will be less of an angle under extreme load. Anchors love to chafe through mooring lines that saw over them.

3. Haul out extra dinghies or other toys. You can put them back in later. The idea is to get them out of your field of focus until the weather is past. For me, this means simplifying down to my most utilitarian work skiff.
4. Get the rest of the stuff you don’t absolutely need off the deck. Grill, Solar panels, radar reflector, wind vane removable parts, etc.
5. Cover the woodstove or heater pipe.
6. Prepare storm anchors but don’t set them until the last minute to reduce fouling with the primary mooring.
7. Gather bags or boxes for later use in offloading boat gear should the threat increase.
8. Gather tires and or fenders to set down both sides of the hull if deemed necessary. Remember to strap them under the hull as the wind will lift them otherwise.

Phase III: Depending on track and intensity, but almost for certain with any hurricane watch issued…
1. Strip the deck completely. As in everything not bolted down. The sailing dinghy, liferaft, all canvas, wind turbine, liferings, cockpit table, and cushions are on my list.
2. Remove the boom and mainsail. Sails don’t have to be raised to create sail area. In strong winds, even a bare boom can generate a startling amount of force.
3. Offload electronics and personal gear. In the event of the worse case scenario, best not to rely on human nature to prevent this stuff from being stolen.
4. Remove and cap cowl vents.
5. Set storm anchors. Allow plenty of extra scope so they do not foul the main mooring lines. Fouled lines will cut each other under a load. A triangle pattern is considered best, but only if you can be relatively sure they won’t twist together. Some prefer a shackled connection underwater with a swivel and single lead up to the bow. I personally have seen too many failed swivels and will never trust one. To allow plenty of slack in the storm anchor rodes, I favor flaking out extra line and chain on deck and securing it down with breakable light lashings. The theory here is that in the event of the boat dropping back on the storm anchors, the load would pull out more scope, resulting in better holding power. I know this could result in overlap with another boat, but I consider the storm anchors to be absolute last resort anyway. At that point in a failure scenario, it would simply be about staying off the beach.
(Charis's 200 lb Danforth storm anchor)
6. If possible, install line snubbers to absorb stretch in a known location. Line stretch under load is generally distributed over length. Chafe through occurs where this stretch movement coincides with immovable hardware (like a chock or bobstay.) It’s essential to have chafing gear in those locations, but more can be accomplished by focusing the line stretch in a location away from the hard contact areas. Over the years I have used most of the commercially available rubber snubbers (haven’t tried the metal spring type yet,) and have even resorted to pulling a slack loop in the primary mooring line by splicing in a piece of lighter, more stretch prone nylon. Anything will help.
7. Think about what you are attaching to on your boat. More often than not, the strength of the mooring gear is greater than the combined strength of the attachment hardware for one cleat. Spread the loads with multiple attachment points. I favor the “spiderweb” approach. This is where I take the primary load from the mooring lines to a heavy line spliced in a continuous loop around the cabin trunk. Spliced into this loop are multiple light pieces of 3 strand nylon, in turn secured at each piece of substantial hardware (winches, cleats, turning blocks…) These lighter lines are further stretch points, relieving shock strain on the rest of the mooring system. They are also sacrificial. If you set this up correctly, loss of all lines of the web will transfer the load to the cabin trunk. And only after subsequent loss of that spliced loop does the deck hardware get loaded at all. I stress splices here because any other attachment reduces line strength unacceptably for the anticipated circumstances. Remember that all of these lines will stretch and provide chafe protection where they contact each other.


8. Keep your ear to the track and if you find out any of your neighbors’ boats are worth more dead than alive, persuade them by any means to find a more decrepit mooring away from yours. I’ve known too many cases of one man’s ill gain being another’s sad loss. I have actually gone so far as to strip sails and increase mooring attachment on unattended threatening boats. Right or wrong, you do what you need to when your home is at stake.

Moving line items from one phase to another is to be expected depending on your circumstances and available time, assistance, and materials. Over the next few days, I expect to think of more line items. I wish I didn’t have to. This is not my favorite part of living afloat. But everyone has to contend with some form of man vs. nature threat. On the water, it just comes in big doses.

I’m often asked before a storm if I’m ready. No. If you are paying attention, you are never ready. You can only be as ready as time allows. My gauge for the adequacy of my preparation is quite simple. If I illicit a response of mocking laughter from at least 3 passing dinghies before the storm, I feel like my chances are better than even. Ridiculous has often proven just adequate. Be sure, if the worse scenario unfolds, there will be more than 3 people passing after in horrified shock. Preparations are easily undone if you still have a boat when it’s over.

Go forth and be ridiculous. Feel free to border on hilarious if you are upwind of me. And good luck all.



(Please note that these ideas are cumulative and the pictures somewhat dated. Not all ideas are shown.)

Solar Skiff Early Observations

(CJM pics)


Mostly qualitative and maybe a little quantitative…Please remember that the data collection has just started.


My first comment is that I inadvertently built a solar powered ice-breaker! Not in the polar sense, but most definitely in the social sense. It’s always been one of my favorite parts of cruising to wander aimlessly about the anchorage and chat around sunset. And I have no aversion to responsible sundowner consumption. But the truth is, it’s not always easy to engage in conversation with folks you don’t want to disturb. Circe has solved this problem. The interest and enthusiasm expressed already has been wonderful. Kids, particularly, seem enthusiastic about what they see. This is encouraging, and I try to make the point that they see only a seedling sprout that their generation will nurture into things we cannot even imagine. So maybe after all these years, the urge to learn to farm is fulfilled from a different angle.

The reactions to date seem to fit into 3 file folders.
(1) There are, as there will always be, the totally unimpressed. No, solar skiff does not plane (except under tow.) Yes, that is as fast as she goes (3.5 knots subject to later prop pitch experimentation.) I was a bit taken aback at the first unimpressed reaction coming from an 18’ catboat sailor though…”Who you callin’slow??”
(2) Then there are the incredulous. “Does that really work?” is their mantra. To date, my retort has been “You see it.” Though, I am thinking about concocting a story about a trained team of bluefish in harness for these folks. The fact is, The battery bank that drives this boat has never been charged by any means other than the 90 watt solar array. I guess I have run some 30 to 40 hours so far. Good that it’s been sunny!
(3) The reactions that make it seem worthwhile are the enthusiastic ones. If something can be demonstrated on a small scale, it will create belief in what can be done on a larger scale. I don’t deny that alternate energy is still about bending over to collect pennies, but just so, 100 of those make a dollar.

On the equipment side, I am so far on voltage regulator #3, motor speed control switch #2, circuit breaker #2, and ammeter #2. The voltage regulators packaged with the solar panels seemed to be black boxes full of pretty beads. They simply never worked. It wasn’t a rating or a connection issue. They were just junk. The SunSaver presently installed is correctly keeping the batteries at a bank voltage of 14.4 or below. I may eventually install a bypass switch for a now-and–then 15 volt blast charge to clean the battery plates, but that will be a winter project. The used trolling motor was less gently used than I hoped. The switch was crunchy and intermittently dropped out of the highest speed setting from day 1, so I had a replacement switch on order from Minn Kota when it eventually smoked (literally!) I got a humble pill when a gas dinghy passed and I thought – “Wow what stinky exhaust. Huh it’s lingering. Smells more like plastic. Whoah- there’s smoke coming out of my motor switch!” Still got back to Charis at low speed, so the oars remain unused. The circuit breaker was upgraded from the original 50 amp rating at the recommendation of Minn Kota. The ammeter replacement was prompted by a short lived attempt to power it with a non-isolated power transformer. Electronic optimism ends abruptly when smoke appears. At present we are all-systems-go.

The slightly numerical observation to date is that I have run at full speed for up to 4 hours at a stretch (subject to social stops) with power to spare. Recovery time varies with use and sun strength, but so far I have had no problem enjoying harbor cruises and my short daily commute on a break even basis. Actual numbers are being logged and will be compiled when there are enough of them to make sense of.

On the qualitative side, the most commented on feature of the skiff is that it is silent. I did a dumb thing to test how silent. One evening I watched two outboard dinghies approach (at a respectable distance) an osprey nest on a pole. The residents sounded their dissatisfaction when they were each at least 20 feet away. I got much closer, but realized then that sneaking up on a sharp talon bird of prey is not hugely brilliant. Since, I have limited my bird stealth to cranes, herons, gulls and such. Because I can sit very still, I find I can approach closer than even in my kayak. This brought about an interesting epiphany for me- That noise is pollution too. In truth, I already felt that way, but I guess I just never put silence on the goal list for this project. Bonus. Next to be noticed are the panels themselves, followed, I would say, by my choice of a fairly traditional Whitehall hull shape, and a rather pretty one at that. Since her hull lines are not mine, I am not being vain. I read once that a good boat cannot be walked away from without at least one back glance. Circe has that going for her.


Rigged for towing....





(Photos by Gavin Ashworth – NYC)

Solar Skiff Spreads Her Wings...

After much itchy fiberglass work, completion is near. The Solar panels are on and the batteries installed. So far the systems all seem to be working. The Ammeter is still waiting for a power converter, and appears at present to display only energy flow into the batteries. I had hoped it would display both charge and use power flow, but may have ordered the wrong meter. Easily fixed in good time. Today I made and installed fenders and the bow pudding, and the official hull number was assigned by the State. If memory serves, the itch of glass fibers embedded in the skin will linger for a few more days, but if this all works as planned, it will have been worth it.

Solar Skiff the Embryo

It was only a matter of time before I outgrew the use of small solar gadgets in the commuter dinghy and moved on to test the concept of pulling my propulsion power from the sun. Not that I consider myself to be breaking ground here - many have done much more in this field. I thank them for the inspiration. I'm quite sure that many others out there right now have worked out similar schemes or are in the process. I guess it was the same for every other mechanical concept from the wheel on up. The project if one of personal discovery and research. It's about answering my own questions and being better at answering other people's questions later.

The slant I am approaching this question from is one I have felt strongly about for some time. It's the half step back, full step forward approach. Prior to the second world war, power densities available were small from internal combustion engines. To compensate, the emphasis was on efficient hull form. These days, emphasis seems to focus on everything but hull efficiency with power installed in unlimited quantities to suit. Seems to me that in applying a low power density propulsion scheme, it would be smart to revert to such hull forms as were used before there was high density power. It's all good and well to drive your inflatable with an electric motor, but since it was designed for planing speed with a gas outboard, you will probably be operating in the least efficient speed range. My tack was to start with a hull designed for the lowest power density - rowing. Specifically, my electric drive conversion is based on a Whitehall hull.



This project has been a slow gathering of pieces from far and wide. Ken Flowers, an exceptional lobster boat builder up in Maine came through with the molded hull shell of perfect dimensions for this small scale beta project. Solar panels and electrical components have been trickling in from E-Bay and other online sources. Wood's Boats in RI came through with an affordable gently used salt water trolling motor. I suppose if you really looked at the overall system energy of this project, it may not really be as close to zero impact as I'd like - what with all the shipping involved. But as with most things, I think what is important is the avenue of thought. It's the channeling of creative energy toward a better solution.

So here's the embryonic version of solar skiff. Not especially pretty at present. and maybe even a bit hard to recognize for what she is intended to be. But for all of that, it's the start to a start. I suppose that in itself warrants documentation. And besides, I'm told it's the progress that gets noticed. Maybe the embryo stage will make later imperfections less noticeable!

Cool Ideas

I’m starting to think that just as cars now are only available with everything that was once called an option, boats are only being offered with bow thrusters, generators, and air conditioning. A quick survey of the weekend arrivals is pushing the 50% threshold anyhow. What happened to sailing to quiet places to be cooled by summer sea breeze and invigorated by a swim and fresh air? I never have been “like the other kids,” but I just can’t see the attraction of going from shore power air conditioning to anchored out generator air conditioning.

Here’s my air conditioning unit. Pretty simple. Think it was marketed as the “Wind Scoop” once upon a time. It’s fairly effective, though it does get a bit wonky in places where wind and tide oppose. The plus side is no generator, no circulator pump, and no compressor. And correspondingly no fossil fuel consumption. The air smells nice too. I don’t think I’d thrive on 35’ of recirculated air. I suppose the downside is not having that sense of security so many cruisers in the era of entitlement draw from a pulsing internal combustion engine.

And another cool idea that needs no juice… latent heat of evaporation is the concept. I think I first read about this in a C.S Forester novel. But I thank good science teachers for my understanding of the concept. In simplest terms, when water evaporates, heat is absorbed. That’s why we feel cold in wet clothes in a breeze, even on a hot day. Applied to the new favored stainless water bottles, this principle provides a refreshing temperature drop, though not the jolt of icewater. My specific setup seems to work well with an old gym sock (preferably recently laundered,) slipped over the water bottle. Fuzzy side out evaporates, hence cools better. Michael Jackson fans might go in for one white glove instead. Same concept. Hang the setup in a shaded spot with good exposure to the wind. Even with refrigeration, this setup is great as it keeps the hydration near to hand, reduces cold loss from frequent refrigerator openings, and makes you feel smart just for knowing the concept! Try it. Some folks will think you strange for wearing 1 gym sock on your water bottle and none on your feet, but they will suffer that thought over a tepid water bottle.

I won't get started on the bow thruster standard option now used in lieu of the rudder and engine for steering...It will just make me cranky.

To Have and to Have Not

Hottest day of the summer so far. I’m anchored outside of a harbor I’ve been coming to for 20 years. Anchored because I find the 500% increase in mooring rental offensive. Anchored because I can. And anchored because frequently I find the company more interesting.

Today’s human theater is played by contrasting families. A bit further out is anchored a young live-aboard family. Their aura speaks of simplicity. They row past daily. Mom and dad to shore in the morning. Mom back to pick up dad on the beach in the evening. Never in a hurry, Always with time for a friendly hello. A boy and a girl, neither more than 5 years old, and both as much dolphin as human judging by their comfort in the ocean.
Nearer by and on a $50 a night rental mooring is your classic weekend cruiser on vacation. His outfit is more modern and includes an inflatable with a planning speed outboard motor. His children might be comfortable on the water, but it’s hard to say as they seem permanently wrapped in their life vests. Not that this is a bad thing. In fact, given the rest of the story, it seems wise.

So I mentioned it was a scortcher today. 103 degrees inland. It was a great day to be in the water. Probably a great day to be a kid in the water too.

First the rowboat went by. Mom pulling patiently at the oars. Dad waiting patiently on the beach. Children dressed as they were born frolicking behind the dinghy with one of those dime store inflatable pool toys. They really did remind me of a couple of trained dolphins swimming along behind the dinghy. As they went by, mom quieted them to explain that they shouldn’t shriek quite so much as someone might mistake their joy for distress and jump in to rescue them. “The little boy who cried wolf “ story in a real life framework. I guess a lot of folks would be upset by this scene. No lifejackets on the kids. No lifejacket on mom to set an example. Yet somehow I only want to thank them for being real. I want to thank them for understanding that there is more safety in learning to be comfortable on the water and in learning practical common sense seamanship than in any wearable device. If there were 2 happier kids on this island today I didn’t see them. And while there are days to teach the importance of manmade safety on the water, today just seemed ideal to teach safety through comfort and skills with nothing more than one was born wearing.

Buzzing around at the same time was vacation dad. His two tow heads were bouncing about, apparently too much in fear for their lives to even scream. Or maybe just bored. It’s hard to tell sometimes. They were riding one of those marine store inflatable tubes with handles and bright graphics all over it. They were sucking down outboard fumes at a brain damaging clip, but it’s OK since it was one of those heavy but “clean” 4 stroke outboards. The seamanship they were learning would be better unlearned – it’s illegal to buzz around within 100 ft of moored boats at planning speed in this state. But then I’m pretty sure dad is oblivious to this fact. So will the kids be. They will probably also be hard to convince later in life that their entitlement to fun does not exceed others’ entitlement to a peaceful afternoon free of the side effects of their fun. They began learning today that it’s OK to drive stupidly as long as you have a seatbelt and airbags. But they didn’t seem to be coming near enough to hit anything, and even if they did, they were surrounded by inflatable things and wearing bulletproof life vests. And I am not one to interfere with “intelligent design” as Mr, Darwin’s work is now known.

But the lingering question in this scene is who has and who has not? I guess I was a little bit of both examples growing up. Probably still am. But today, from where I was sitting, it was the slow, simple fun I most admired. I could only feel sorry for the frenetic family. Today it was my fellow dwellers on the fringe that clearly had it best. I know which set of kids I hope grow up to run my world.

Spilled oil and Socialism....

Lots of chatter going around about the gulf oil spill. Guess I figured it was time to check in again and organize my thoughts on the matter. That and it’s sailing season again, so I find myself with time in peaceful places to have thoughts on such things…

In a nutshell, which is how many would describe my cranium, I’m as angry about the oil spill as most everyone, though I think my anger is differently directed. It’s easy to go on a witch hunt at times like this and look for a scapegoat. It’s pretty much a natural reaction. What really upsets me is that with such an obvious example before us, most people still don’t get it. The witch hunt ends in front of the nearest mirror. I’m not angry with BP. I’m angry with America for blissfully ignoring the fact that our monster SUV’s, Mc Mansions, excesses and conveniences sent them in search of the spilled oil to begin with.

Think about it. Oil companies answer our demands. They may make more money at it than we like, but there’s no profit in drilling up even one barrel more than we buy. I’m not defending record profits and price fixing. I’m simply stating that if you do not demand and show willingness to consume a commodity, it will not be produced.

I’d love to replace my 24 year old mini truck. Trouble is, the new one has more horsepower, along with standard power everything and AC. So it gets 5 mpg less. The option for simplicity and only adequate power has been taken away. Why? Because, so I’m told, that’s what America wants.

I grew up in a house without Air Conditioning. Not even a window unit. And we survived. My Grandparents did too. Now I know lots of people in debt to their ears, who wouldn’t dream of not cranking the A/C as soon as the mercury hits 70. In fact, I’m not sure I know anyone else who lives without A/C today. Well folks, A/C is electricity and electricity is oil.

Lots of folks will react to the current mess insisting that the answer is more government oversight. More rules and standards. More inspections and police work. That might help slide the odds slightly in a safer direction. But a fraction of a percent improvement in the odds is meaningless when the numerator in the equation is exponential growth in use and consumption. Basic probability says that accidents will occur in some percentile relation to the quantity of oil drilled, refined and transported. It is simply unrealistic to expect, in a world of human and nature factors, an accident rate of zero. If it could be done, the airline industry would have made it happen long ago.

So here it is in plain fact. More oil consumed = more oil produced and transported= more accidents. The only way to reverse the cycle is from the root of the problem.

The President has stood and taken the blame for the spill. Some will interpret this as admission of inadequate oversight. I choose to see it as something more profound. We elected the president as a country, so he is at this time American attitude personified. His acceptance of blame, in my view, is acknowledgement that we as a people are to blame. But still, most people don’t seem to get it. Personal accountability has somehow been eradicated from our national culture.

There’s a lot of talk about America “going socialist” with healthcare reform and generally increased government involvement in our lives. Well, think about it people. We have before us one of the starkest examples of the folly of our own excesses in years, and still we can do nothing but blame someone – anyone else. If we choose not to look within for responsibility, eventually all responsibility will be handed over to someone else. That someone else is ever expanding government. The buck can only stop there. Make government large enough and it gets called socialist. It is our refusal as a people to take responsibility for our own actions and their effects that is bringing about this change, not the policies or will of those we elect. And, by the way, if you think this trend can turn out well in the long run, you really need to have a chat with an exile form the former Soviet Union.

Are you ready to accept some accountability and do something about having to accept less next time? Change your choices. Take convenience and excess out of the number one and two slots in favor of less consumption. If you are visiting this blog, it is because you suspect or already know it is possible. If you read on, you will see my take on how it is possible. I don’t claim not to see blame in my mirror. I only know that the inconvenience of the hard choice is fleeting and the reward long lasting. I sometimes wonder about the wisdom of my path. It carries a high price of alienation at times. But then when you have to ask yourself if there was anything else you could have done to have less of a hand in a great disaster, it feels pretty good not to come up with a long list.

Were I ever put on trial for one-track-mindedness, I would conjure the ghost of E.B. White as council. He is universally remembered for "Charlotte's Web" and "Stuart Little", but was also a passionate sailor. We never met, but he voiced my feelings on the subject of living aboard better than I could.....

"If a man must be obsessed by something, I suppose a boat is as good as anything, perhaps a bit better than most. A small sailing craft is not only beautiful, it is seductive and full of strange promise and the hint of trouble. If it happens to be an auxiliary cruising boat, it is without question the most compact and ingenious arrangement for living ever devised by the restless mind of man - a home that is stable without being stationary, shaped less like a box than like a fish, or a bird, or a girl, and in which the homeowner can remove his daily affairs as far from shore as he has the nerve to take them, close hauled or running free - parlor, bedroom, and bath - suspended and alive."

E.B's son Joel combined his artistry with a deep technical understanding of Naval Architecture earned at M.I.T. to create stunning and well behaved boats. His grandson Steve carries on the art and skill at Brookline Boat Yard.