I had the last roll of old fashioned film developed this past weekend and decided that one more post is needed on the blog. These two pictures very effectively communcate the excitement of racing Flying Junior dinghies.
Monday, February 2, 2009
Monday, January 26, 2009
Home are the sailors
Home is the sailor, home from sea:
Her far-borne canvas furled
The ship pours shining on the quay
The plunder of the world.
Her far-borne canvas furled
The ship pours shining on the quay
The plunder of the world.
A.E. Houseman
The sailing course is over and we had a good flight home on Saturday. When we stepped back into winter in Grand Rapids we knew not to complain about a few days of chilly weather in Florida. The bright side of the fronts that moved through St. Pete is that they brought plenty of wind and some of the best sailing we have had in the 3 times we've taught this course. We didn't return with plunder (although Abigail and Devin gave a wonderfully entertaining presentation on pirates), but we returned with 20 new sailors, some of whom improved on prior skills and others who were introduced to an entirely new experience. Everyone in the class was successful in meeting the goals of the Eckerd College Advanced Sailing Course.
The staff at Eckerd was most impressed with this group of students because of their friendly personalities, good attitudes and genuine interest in learning to sail. Scott and I want to thank the class for being good representives Calvin College and making our teaching so enjoyable.
Friday, January 23, 2009
:(
With only a few sweet hours left in Florida, this post will be short.
The bottom line is that I do not want to leave tomorrow. God teased us the last two days with amazing sunny weather after previous chilliness and based on the deep redness of all our faces, we enjoyed it too much.
I have been dreading for the last 2 1/2 weeks that this day would creep up on us and it being here is just as sad as I thought it would be. I will forever treasure the friendships I made on this trip and the experiences we had together sailing, socializing, relaxing, exploring, singing, laughing, and relishing in the wonderfulness (yes it's a word) of this interim.
Without further adieu, I am going to go soak up the last few moments with people I have come to adore!
The bottom line is that I do not want to leave tomorrow. God teased us the last two days with amazing sunny weather after previous chilliness and based on the deep redness of all our faces, we enjoyed it too much.
I have been dreading for the last 2 1/2 weeks that this day would creep up on us and it being here is just as sad as I thought it would be. I will forever treasure the friendships I made on this trip and the experiences we had together sailing, socializing, relaxing, exploring, singing, laughing, and relishing in the wonderfulness (yes it's a word) of this interim.
Without further adieu, I am going to go soak up the last few moments with people I have come to adore!
Tuesday, January 20, 2009
nuclear manatees and fj insanity.
This past weekend, we invested into learning about Florida's wildlife. While the Mote Marine Aquarium was a fantastic introduction to Floridian aquatic life, I think the most disturbing event of the day was traveling to a "Manatee Viewing Center" outside of St. Petersburg. Here, I expected to encounter a serene, isolated inlet where manatees could bask in the sun and silence, free from the influences of the outside world. As we were nearing the location, however, I noticed a few large smokestacks in the distance indicative of a power plant, and I was flabbergasted to realize that we happened to be heading right for these behemoth belchers of pollution. Once arrived, we opened our van doors not to the soothing sounds of a quiet pond but the incessant clinking and churning clamor of a power plant. In what felt like a surreal episode of LOST (another Dharma Initiative experiment gone horribly awry?), I hesitantly approached the power plant to find a modestly-sized reservoir of water simply packed with the bobbing masses that signify a manatee's presence--I heard counts of 30 or more. Apparently the warm-water discharge from the plant attracts these indolent creatures to its front porch, and the plant has hospitably offered to host their guests. Despite the plant's innocuous acquisition of their friends, such a juxtaposition of nature and industry seemed to me in some ways the epitome of man's desecration of the earth.
In all fairness, the viewing center seemed quite aware of and concerned for the health and wellbeing of their manatee denizens--indeed, they argue that their balmy home is much safer than places such as the nearby Boca Ciega bay, where manatees face treacherous boat traffic, nefarious propellers, and limited opportunities for food and fresh water. And those belching smokestacks I was concerned about earlier turned out to be emitting nothing more than water vapor. Supposedly. Perhaps I am too much of a malcontent, but in any case, I've had two menacing dreams since about genetically mutated manatees that glow in the dark and have come to take over the world.
The towers that release "water vapor."
Gazing out on the manatees.
Monday, then, brought us back into the realm of sailing. It wasn't just any other day of meandering in keelboats, however, but the pinnacle of our competitive sailing experience, as we embarked on our very official (read: not official at all) FJ regatta. The key to winning a regatta is your start. The officials indicate when there are three minutes remaining before the race begins and smaller increments as it approaches. Meanwhile, the boats are all sailing around the starting line, attempting to block other boats, to avoid hitting other boats, and to cruise past the starting line at impressive speed just as the officials blow their whistles. This in itself is a stressful process, rendered even more so by instructors growling commands at you muffled by the wind so that you can't hear or understand them anyway. Once again, we sailing neophytes picked up on the habit of cussing (and trust me, in such conditions I can almost certainly assure you that you would have, too) that resulted in some pretty hilarious altercations that I just wish I could repeat on this blog.
We raced seven heats in all, and by the end I was one big bruise, after collapsing into the hull of the boat following one-too-many roll tacks and catching the boom with my head too many times to remember after such cranial trauma. And as the second law of thermodynamics led us to expect, the day devolved into entropy, with rules being reiterated and protestations arguing fouls and disdainful if-looks-could-kill expressions flying about the room until, finally, the ever-candid Patty broke through the cacophony and exasperatedly yelled, "Just someone tell me when can I EAT?!" which awakened the latent appetites of these tired sailors, halting all arguments and sending us in a horde toward the dining hall. Food, of course, revived us from our fatigue, as did our spirited renditions of the day's events.
Today is expected to be the coldest day of Florida's winter, so we have taken the morning off to salvage our digits and to relish in the inauguration excitement. Gobama!
In all fairness, the viewing center seemed quite aware of and concerned for the health and wellbeing of their manatee denizens--indeed, they argue that their balmy home is much safer than places such as the nearby Boca Ciega bay, where manatees face treacherous boat traffic, nefarious propellers, and limited opportunities for food and fresh water. And those belching smokestacks I was concerned about earlier turned out to be emitting nothing more than water vapor. Supposedly. Perhaps I am too much of a malcontent, but in any case, I've had two menacing dreams since about genetically mutated manatees that glow in the dark and have come to take over the world.
The towers that release "water vapor."
Gazing out on the manatees.Monday, then, brought us back into the realm of sailing. It wasn't just any other day of meandering in keelboats, however, but the pinnacle of our competitive sailing experience, as we embarked on our very official (read: not official at all) FJ regatta. The key to winning a regatta is your start. The officials indicate when there are three minutes remaining before the race begins and smaller increments as it approaches. Meanwhile, the boats are all sailing around the starting line, attempting to block other boats, to avoid hitting other boats, and to cruise past the starting line at impressive speed just as the officials blow their whistles. This in itself is a stressful process, rendered even more so by instructors growling commands at you muffled by the wind so that you can't hear or understand them anyway. Once again, we sailing neophytes picked up on the habit of cussing (and trust me, in such conditions I can almost certainly assure you that you would have, too) that resulted in some pretty hilarious altercations that I just wish I could repeat on this blog.
We raced seven heats in all, and by the end I was one big bruise, after collapsing into the hull of the boat following one-too-many roll tacks and catching the boom with my head too many times to remember after such cranial trauma. And as the second law of thermodynamics led us to expect, the day devolved into entropy, with rules being reiterated and protestations arguing fouls and disdainful if-looks-could-kill expressions flying about the room until, finally, the ever-candid Patty broke through the cacophony and exasperatedly yelled, "Just someone tell me when can I EAT?!" which awakened the latent appetites of these tired sailors, halting all arguments and sending us in a horde toward the dining hall. Food, of course, revived us from our fatigue, as did our spirited renditions of the day's events.
Today is expected to be the coldest day of Florida's winter, so we have taken the morning off to salvage our digits and to relish in the inauguration excitement. Gobama!
Monday, January 19, 2009
photos from the last few days...
I like these hand rails...
FridayA breezy sailing day east of the bridge.
Abigail, me, and Patti
Abigail, Devin, and Chrysta eating yummy raw oysters at PJ's.
Sunday
Seagulls chasing Chrysta's jerk chicken and Derek frolicking on his birthday.
Playing volleyball on Pass-a Grille beach.
Seagulls chasing Chrysta's jerk chicken and Derek frolicking on his birthday.
Playing volleyball on Pass-a Grille beach.
MondayFJ Racing day :)
More racing!!Saturday, January 17, 2009
A beautiful Friday
Yesterday was Friday, our 9th day of sailing, and the sunshine returned. It was still a bit brisk for Florida, but in the afternoon we could wear lightweight jackets and even some short sleeves. The wind was a steady 10-12 mph with a 1 foot chop and and some white caps on Tampa Bay, enough for an exciting ride. I taught on the Watkins 27 for the first time. It's an older, small cruiser and I was impressed by how quick it is and how well it sails up wind for a boat of its weight and design. It handles a fairly strong breeze very comfortably, and the students enjoy sailing it. You can see it in the foreground of the 2nd picture of the "pictures from john" post.
The students are progressing very well. They generally know the basics and are working on the nuances of sail trim to make the boats sail as efficiently and quickly as possible.
Thursday, January 15, 2009
frigid sailing.
It is officially winter in Florida. Considering the plight of our Michigan brethren suffering from single-digit temperatures, I really should be thankful for anything above 32, but today's chilly 55 degrees had me in a nasty mood. Yesterday's ominous forecast turned out to be sunny t-shirt weather once again, so everyone figured that today would be the same. Instead, today was overcast, windy, and depressingly cold. Our morning session on the water had all of us shivering, and by the time we docked for lunch, I could no longer bend my fingers and had to resort to beating the mainsail down with my frozen hands.
Lunchtime allowed us a quick trip back to the hotel to supplement our layers, and mine totaled six shirts and jackets, three pairs of pants, and three pairs of socks (has my blood really thinned that much in the span of ten days?). Sacrificing agility for warmth (I couldn't really bend my arms, but I could feel them--much more important), I finally felt adequately ready to face the weather once again. The wind continued, and because of it we had a spectacular day of sailing with our warmer vestments to ward off the cold. As helmsperson, I did my best to channel the sailing spirit by sounding remarkably stern every once and awhile, and attempted to bellow instructions at my crew ("TRIM THAT JIB" or "CENTER THAT TRAVELER") with some hearty "arrrr"s at the end, but everyone just stared at me skeptically and lightly adjusted whatever I had suggested. I'm still mastering the whole intimidation thing.
Andrew, Rachelle, and Professor Ubels
Capt. Richard--in the yellow--and the Catalina (and as a sensible English major, I cannot handle its name)
Arguing about where to have dinner (quite heated).
At the end of the day, Professor Vander Linde remarked that today's escapades resembled a typical day of sailing on Lake Michigan. With that, I think the majority of our class swore off sailing in Lake Michigan in their lifetimes. Here's hoping for warmth and thawed appendages by tomorrow.
Lunchtime allowed us a quick trip back to the hotel to supplement our layers, and mine totaled six shirts and jackets, three pairs of pants, and three pairs of socks (has my blood really thinned that much in the span of ten days?). Sacrificing agility for warmth (I couldn't really bend my arms, but I could feel them--much more important), I finally felt adequately ready to face the weather once again. The wind continued, and because of it we had a spectacular day of sailing with our warmer vestments to ward off the cold. As helmsperson, I did my best to channel the sailing spirit by sounding remarkably stern every once and awhile, and attempted to bellow instructions at my crew ("TRIM THAT JIB" or "CENTER THAT TRAVELER") with some hearty "arrrr"s at the end, but everyone just stared at me skeptically and lightly adjusted whatever I had suggested. I'm still mastering the whole intimidation thing.
Andrew, Rachelle, and Professor Ubels
Capt. Richard--in the yellow--and the Catalina (and as a sensible English major, I cannot handle its name)
Arguing about where to have dinner (quite heated).At the end of the day, Professor Vander Linde remarked that today's escapades resembled a typical day of sailing on Lake Michigan. With that, I think the majority of our class swore off sailing in Lake Michigan in their lifetimes. Here's hoping for warmth and thawed appendages by tomorrow.
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