Progress, Low Buck and Otherwise

"The broadcast was spreading, station to station..."
                                                  -Re-flex




   Bad News: It is snowing outside, again, with a dollop of freezing rain goodness.

   Marginally Better Good News:  It is one day closer to Opening Day on the Dock.

   Yeah, that's all I got.

    My name's Brian, and I hate winter.

   *Hi Brian!*
 
    Before we get into the meat of this week's meeting of Boater's Anonymous, I've got some housekeeping items to deal with:

    The Dock Six Chronicles has succumbed to the siren song (or the inevitable enslavement- your call) of Facebook.  Find us and "Like" us here:

     Dock Six Chronicles on Facebook

   We also have a Twitter feed:

Dock Six Chronicles Twitter Thingy

 Yeah, I have no idea what I am going to do with a 140 character limit, but what the hell, Twitter accounts  seem to be the interwebs equivalent of a penis- half the planet has 'em,  most aren't as impressive as you hope, and the owner is more entertained by it than anyone else.

Oh yeah, one more newsworthy note:  Look to the left.

On the screen.

Your OTHER left.

PORT.

There's a new merit badge there.  We are now a Top Sailing Blog.  Cool.

We'll fumble through how to make all of this extra connectivity relevant and useful over the next little while. Stick with us, it'll be worth it.

Maybe.

Last weekend SWMBO surprised me with a birthday gathering of Docksters at our local pub, The Blue Elephant.  Friday night she suggested we go out for a drink to celebrate my continued descent into the depths of middle age.  We walk in and find most of the usual suspects holding down a fleet of tables:

     Throw enough booze on the table, and things get interesting.  In true D6C low-buck spirit, Melanie threw together a diorama using materials found on the table.  Throw together a couple of straws, some napkins, the salt and pepper baskets some tape and a Sharpie borrowed from the bar and Wha-BAM!

An impending grounding!  Apparently.


Thanks, all of you, for making the night memorable.


Progress continues on the SUP build.

  With frames cut, the next step is to cut slots to accept the longitudinal stringers that will stiffen up the inner framework of the 'boards.  The idea is to create a sort of egg crate structure, combining stiffness with light weight.  I clamped the frames together into a block , cranked the blade on the table saw to the correct height, and pushed the block of frames over the spinning blade.  Three passes later, all of the frames were uniformly slotted.

  Next step is to drill big holes into each frame.

 On purpose.

  A light SUP is a maneuverable, easier paddling SUP.  There aren't a whole lot of places to effectively save weight on a paddleboard, without building a submarine, except the frames.  The challenge is to build frames as light as possible without making them too weak to carry my not inconsiderable ass.

  Below you can see the end result- notched and lightened frames.

  I didn't toss the dozens of holes I just cut.

  Those wooden discs will come in handy later in the build.

   But, that's another chapter, for another day.

   Next up- building a strongback, and some semi-skilled scarphing.


"Talk the Dock!"

Imma Get a Little Sentimental For a Minute..

      "...I'd like to pass on to you..."
                      -Trooper



I’m re-reading Chris Rose’s 1 Dead in Attic , his compelling compilation of the highly readable columns he wrote for the New Orleans Times-Picayune following hurricane Katrina.  As I read of the ragtag reconstruction and resurrection of that most un-American of American cities, and the stories of those formidable stubborn individuals left behind and those who returned, I pondered.   The locals never doubted they would rebuild, because it was a magical place that was worth fighting for.  As I read  I contemplated my own dirt-life-  my connection, or lack thereof.

  I have lived in Stately Jones Manor for over 12 years.  The house to the north has been sold once, the house to the south has been sold twice.   I don't know shit about any of the homes or homeowners across the street. I am on a nodding acquaintance basis with current neighbours on both sides.  I know their names.  We commiserate while shoveling snow.

That’s it.

If Stately Jones Manor was to be irreparably destroyed, I  would feel no sense of loss, and no compulsion or compunction to return or rebuild.  My neighbours would shrug off my absence, and nod and commiserate with my replacement, if one was to appear.

In other words, life would go on.


But  The Dock?

I know the names, email addresses, phone numbers, boat names, previous boat names,  dreams of the next boat, occupations, adventures, long-suffering spouses and favourite beers of many of the denizens here.  We gather by unspoken common ritual to watch the sun go down while we eat and drink and laugh.  We share the good, the bad, the ugly.  We get by, we get ahead and we get along.
I guess the best way to explain it, as corny and sentimental and cloying as it sounds is that Stately Jones Manor is a house.
The Dock is a home.

I don’t miss my dirt-home when I am here…

But I pine like a mofo  for here when forced to the dirt.

Losing Stately Jones Manor would be an inconvenience.

Losing the Dock would be a tragedy.

(If Stately Jones Manor happens to burn to the ground in the near future I am sure my insurance company will have a whole briefcase load of questions for me after a quick Google turns up this post.)

See, here’s the thing:  Bare naked truth be told, here on The Dock we’re all kinda self-absorbed and self-obsessed.

 The capitalization ain’t an accident.

 But it’s the larger “self,” :the group.

(Okay, maybe that should be capitalized too, but have you seen our boats?)

Our family of choice… The Dock.


None of us may be able to tell you who won last night’s major league baseball game, or which boy band has supplanted Justin Bieber in the moonlit fantasies among the under legal-drinking-age demo or even  whether the Muslim Brotherhood is an Egyptian religio-political entity or a movie checkbooked by Louis Farrakhan as a comeback vehicle for Ice Cube…
… but when you need someone to talk to,  sail with, consult on an electrical issue, borrow tools from or loan beers to, we got your back.


And that counts.

Take last night for example.

It's Thursday in July.  It's not just still air, no cloud HOT, it's also no wind, ass-crack sweating humid.  It beats the hell out of sub-zero, drifting snow January, but after provisioning the boat coming off the air-conditioned workweek, it's major-league uncomfortable.

The only option is to leave the dock and head for the beach to bake and bob.

We weren't the only folks executing this plan.  Hell, we weren't even the first.

Ralph and Julie and guests were already anchored, Hilary was ahead of us by five minutes, the Osborns (not to be confused with The Osbornes, capitalization intended)  had anchored Windslicer, and Jack and Melanie and Bas had snagged their Bluenose to the bottom on the millpond-still Bay:

Within a half hour, without consultation or plan, without mishap or harsh words, Hilary and Whiskeyjack and the Bluenose were rafted and posing for pictures  as Melanie flailed the oars in Quack while firing her Canon.

As the sun dropped below Wooley's Point we turned for home, retied to The Dock and shared dinner and beverages and laughs and photos and camaraderie.

People ask why we persist in hurrying from air conditioned offices to a small boat-smelling boat that is a long walk from the parking lot, lacking water and power and all manner of creature comforts...
If we have to explain it, you won't understand it anyway,  C'mon down and join us for a sunset.


 You'll get it.


And don't forget to "Talk the Dock"

The Incident

   No attempts at humour, sly hidden messages or skewed relevance through song lyrics this time, folks.




   It was so late it was early.

   In the wee hours of Saturday morning bad news darkened the Dock.

   I've been pondering whether to document the event, whether I have any place even mentioning what had occurred, or acknowledging that anything had happened.

   I'm still not sure.

   What I do know is that rumours and innuendo and supposition always fill the vacuum created by a scarcity of facts.

   We on the Dock and our guests deserve better than that.

   I'll stick to the facts and not offer any editorial opinion.

   Early Saturday morning a cascade of small bad decisions led to tragedy- A guest on our Dock was assaulted on our dock  by a guest of boatowners from another dock.

   The police and an ambulance were summoned.

   Crime scene tape was strung.  Pictures, prints and statements were taken.

   Rubberneckers from other docks cruised past throughout the day, with one loathsome individual touring past repeatedly offering his (inaccurate) opinion of what he thought went down to the multiple boatloads of guests he guided past (his words) "the crime scene."
   The laughter was a classy touch.


   On Sunday we learned an arrest had been made.


   This incident  prompted a discussion of Dock etiquette, and a review of

   Dock Do's and Don'ts.

   DO have fun.

   DO treat others with respect.

   DO take responsibility for your guests.

   DO be good guests, not mooches.

   DO look out for each other.

   DON'T bring trouble home.  If  you don't feel safe getting back to the Dock, call one of your fellow Docksters- we'll help.  It's what we do.  Better yet...

   DON'T talk to strangers.  It was good advice when you were a kid, it's good advice now.

   DON'T boat crawl.  It sounds like fun to wander from boat to boat mooching drinks and hanging out, but there are few places where a free drink doesn't have an implied string attached.

   DON'T leave your guests.  You brought them to the the Dock, if you leave the Dock it's your responsibility to ensure they make it back to the Dock safely.

   DON'T Drive.  Check your keys with another Dockster.

  DON'T damage the reputation of the Dock.  We work hard to maintain the unique idyll we have created by demanding little from the Marina and receiving little scrutiny in return.  If that changes, it won't be for the better.


  Our thoughts are with the victim, and wish her a quick and full recovery.  And we hope it never happens again.

Dock Check

    "I'm a romantic fool..."
      Martha & The Muffins




    I stopped by the dock last week to get some pictures.  With Inky's passing, the April 15  Marina Opening Day passed unnoticed and unremarked.  Now I am playing catch-up.

Our amenities are installed :

The water level is higher than I expected, given our virtually snowless winter.

  At the time these pictures were taken the dock population was looking a little sparse.  Since, Rick has dropped in 20th Hole for another season,  James and Brooke have berthed The Instigator, Travis has snagged the slip next to James, Jim and Marianne expect to be splashing both boats this week, Jordan's boat Safira is ready to get wet now that Tempus Fugit is in the water over on Dock Two, Hilary's boat has arrived from Sarnia and is awaiting rigging and launching, Eric has repainted After School and built a new dinghy (more on that in an upcoming post) Jack is still deciding which boat is going to get wet first this year, JD has booked his slip, no word on Mark and Erica, Ralph and Julie and Gavin and Sylvia will be back rounding out the Siren fleet, did I miss anyone?

 New flotsam has appeared since last fall:

  I wonder if there is a tractor attached to that tire?

Soon,  we'll be home soon...

   New sailboat on the Dock.

   Travis'new ride:

    A recycling bin in need of rescue.

  True to form, we on Dock Six end up with the hoopty dock cart.

    Meanwhile, downtown Port Dover receives some attractive new signage:

   It's going to be a great season!