40 Comments

After watching the Twin Towers collapse live on television, I made my way down to Boston Harbor, rowed out to my boat and went sailing. Logan airport was closed and the only things flying were fighter jets and birds. The sanctuary provided by my vessel was much appreciated that horrific day and the respite from the harsh realities of our human condition welcomed. I applaud your efforts to keep Small Craft Advisor a literary safe place for all to enjoy and seek refuge.

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Thanks, Jonathan.

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I had to chuckle at the marker versus buoy comment. I grew up in the 1950-60 's Midwest and learned to sail a Snipe on the Illinois River dodging huge tow boats.

We refered to all of the navigation aids as channel markers. Ones that floated were called buoys as they were chained to the bottom. The ones that didn't float were called beacons as they were fixed to something permanent but to us they were all markers.

We usually referred to the green flat top buoys as cans and the pointed Red top buoys as nuns. I think that is also what they are called in the USCG navigation guide The design helps you distinguish them at night if you can't tell their color.

That being said you can call him what you want as long as you know which side of them to go on!

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Agreed. I'm not sure I want to invest the time to learn the proper names of each!

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I think the "can" and "nun" terminology is pretty universal. Google agrees.

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I agree David. All the towboat guys called them that on Midwest rivers. It's also in the US Coast guard guide for navigation aids.

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I had a sailing instructor in Anacortes that insisted that we pronounce the side of the boat away from the wind as LOO-werd, which surprised me. Nobody says "the boat has too much LOO-helm", or "take shelter on the LOO side of that island." I am also fairly certain the traditional Dutch barges sailing around Scandinavia don't use LOO-boards.

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I never gave it much thought but with regard to the side of the boat opposite the wind I tend to pronounce leeward as "looward." However, for all other uses, I will say "lee" as in the "lee side of the bay." LOL

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I can see how confusing that must be - I grew up back east, where leeward is pronounced LOOw'rd - when I moved to San Franscisco I was shocked and appalled at the ignorant sailors pronouncing it LEEward! It still gets me, 50 years later! I'm laughing that I'd never given a moment's thought about also saying LEE helm or the LEE side of the island or boat!

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Years ago I wrote an article for a local publication in which I referred to a "lee shore." The editor interpreted this to mean "the side of an island that is in the lee (protected from wind and waves). To me a lee shore is one in YOUR lee, and is dangerous because you might be driven on to it. Is this usage problematic also?

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Huh. I'd never thought of a lee shore as one to your own lee - I was more aligned with it being as the editor thought. Perhaps it could be used either way?

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As an executive for a medium sized corporation - I too walk the delicate minefield of NEVER MESSING UP", however I come from a much more tolerant generation than most of my employees these days. When the intentions are pure (as I find them with the Small Craft Advisor), I can easily look past the occasional typo, or different terminology and find fun (like when I was a kid at the Dentist's office searching the Highlights magazine) in noticing a photo that's not quite right - and I sit back and smile - knowing that we're all humans and we will make mistakes!

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Likely political (sorry) but boats flying the American flag from a spreader, rather than properly from the stern, (arrrrg) but not upside down (yet).

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When I was a kid, in my family of dedicated sailors, we had a bunch of completely irrelevant jumble words that meant nothing but that we thought sounded cool/confusing to non-nautical folks - the one I remember we used the most was to tell someone to 'slack your lee lift!' I loved the glassy-eyed look we'd get when we said that - (I know, I'm bad - sorry not sorry . . . )

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Or is is LOO lift? ;-)

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hahahahaha!

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My preferred nautical gibberish is "Keel haul the mizzen mast."

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Oh I'd like to see someone do that!!! LOL!!!!

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The Netflix series, "Black Sails" shows someone being keel hauled. A gruesome ordeal, and probably always fatal.

"What foreign language do you speak?"

"I speak several, but I'm mist fluent in Gibberish."

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I remember reading about keel hauling when I was a kid, and being absolutely appalled - not just for being hauled under, but scraped all to hell by old barnacles and rasty seaweed - gagh! A horrible death!

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I have known to remove the fenders after leaving the dock from my Girl Scout sailing beginnings… and yet, as a singlehander, I find myself distracted by other priorities (lunch before raising sails, checking the actual wind on the water, scooting out of the way of a fast and silent barge) and too often forget for long minutes to tidy up the fenders. Anyone who notices should be aware I am already chastising myself for the shameful lapse in nautical-ness.)

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Hey, it's recreation, right? So, let's not sweat the small stuff, and except for safety issues, it's (nomenclature, forgotten fenders, wrinkled sails, flawed brightwork, etc.) all small stuff. Afterall, a small boat is just a nice way to be close to Mother Ocean (and her children lakes and rivers :).

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Hey I recently published a Loose Cannon story quoting Trump talking about boats. The comments were remarkably civil...sorta.

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That's good to hear. Over at Loose Cannon you venture closer to the rocky shore than we fear to tread ;-)

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We belonged to a sailing club that contained a small group of self-important experts. Real fun peeps. Nautical terms were used to confuse and belittle. There are appropriate times for certain terms, "Prepare to Gybe, Gybe 'Ho!" "Ready About!" And there are other times, "Hey, that ropes down on the cabin floor." "You mean, that lines below on the sole?(sarcasm added) Yeah, well go find it yourself Magellan!!! (insert other adjectives here). Sailing, the way I sail, is for fun. No yelling unless there's a MOB. And if I don't have you on on the hook by 5pm, listening to Kenny Chesney and drinking a too strong adult beverage....I've failed you as a Captain.

I've enjoyed all the boat comparisons, the sailing stories, the cool locations, all of it. Keep it up!

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Haha—great story!

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How Dare You forget to mention the faux pas and tripping hazard of a winch handle left unstowed after finished grinding!

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You have my total sympathy! I think you do an excellent job as jugglers.

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No comment...

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Also, I am ashamed of that stray parenthesis.

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The best authority I've found is "The Visual Encyclopedia of Nautical Terms Under Sail" by Crown Publishers, New York. (no author given). This is a weighty tome, and entertaining to peruse while you're waiting for the current to flush you out the far side of the rip (or overfall) you got caught in.

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Answering my own query: Puget Sound is a complex arm of the ocean with tides, and inevitably, tidal currents. Some of these can be quite strong, and even dangerous to a small boat. A "tide rip" in our local usage is turbulence in the water usually due to such factors as bottom configuration, tide running against wind, and conflicting currents. The worst I've seen look like a violent Maytag surrounded by smooth water. The best way to get out of a tide rip if you get caught in one is to ride it out. The current running through it will carry you out the other side. You just need to stay upright.

A rip tide, on the other hand, isn't encountered in the inland waters. It's seen on the open coast, where surf runs up the beach, then retreats back down the beach. The outflow as the wave retreats is what is locally called a rip tide. They can be quite strong, and can be dangerous to a swimmer trying to reach shore, as their influence may extend many yards beyond the beach. People have died due to these "rip tides." (A swimmer should not aim for the smooth-appearing part of the surf, because that's where the outflow is strongest. I know a kayaker who capsized, and struggled mightily to swim his boat in, but got caught in a rip tide because he was aiming for where the surf appeared least violent. He was aided by a rescuer who understood how to deal with the phenomenon. This event was written up and appeared in "Sea Kayaker" magazine, and in the book "Deep Trouble," by Chris Cunningham and Matt Brose. (Tried googling this book, w/o success).

The trouble with both terms is that they are not very descriptive and are easily confused. The Canadians use the term "overfall" to describe a tide rip, and this is a more useful terminology in my opinion. The googled definition is quite helpful.

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(It's entirely possible that I don't know what I am talking about; maybe I just made all that stuff up. For what it's worth).

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