Century Club: Tim Ford

In between painting some stuff below-decks, took a couple of extended paddles in the innards of the creek, avoiding the major puffs into the high 20s.  This is just such a terrific time of year and the creek has never looked prettier. Hooked a nice pickerel in the "usual spot," and it was kind enought to spit the hook close to the boat, as I was paddling one-handed into shore to beach it.

Did not get a photo but it was a nice 2-3 pound chain pickerel.  That double-spoon and paddletail is a killer for cold-water tube fish. 

Paddled to the back of the creek at sunset, it was calm back there and sitting still close to shore, watched a great big fox stroll by at a leisurely pace. It was a big fox and I think he and I have a prior history. I guess he has forgiven me as he did not bother giving me a dirty look. (I accidently interrupted him and his girlfriend on the beach a year or so ago)

As a lightweight guy, I got into being a bowman fairly early on, I guess, when it comes to racing sailboats.  But really, I was never any good. 

I suspect "adequate" may have been a better description, although I am sure "braindead" and "idiot" may have been tossed about by folks in the vegetable bin. I think the pinnacle of my gigs on the bow was winning the J105 class at Screwpile one year, on VELOCE.  Maybe a 2nd at St Pete NOOD one year, racing with Tom Schock. 

Anyway, imagine my delight at being on 7-8 different bows to move boats off their moorings on a perfectly gorgeous Fall Saturday. I got to scurry around cleating and uncleating tow lines and dropping moorings and picking up moorings with absolutely NO PRESSURE! 

It reminded me of how much I miss FrontierLand and how hard it has been transitioning back to FantasyLand.  

We also tried like the devil to free a chain of floating docks from being impaled on one of the vertical pipes that keep them in place. The incredibly high tide this past week had floated these docks off the pipe! So image a couple dozen folks employing various devices, an A-frame, levers, chains, etc., trying to get the g.d. dock off the pipe.

With failure being written at every attempt. I think they finally cut a new hole in the darn thing.

Plan was to get off the mooring, ride the paltry flood tide up to the docks, hang a right, put up the jib-top and ghost out of the creek, DW, and then maybe put up the main once in the river. 

Boy, was that a great plan! 

Until without my having noticed, the 5 kn breeze from the north turned into 8-10 from the south. 

I had not even noticed until it was time to put the helm over and head out of the creek.  And I was already having second thoughts.  I had the 3.5 HP on the stern and two sets of anchor and rode snugged up aft to add enough weight to keep the short-shaft O/B's prop in the water.  But that was dicey. Then, add insult to injury, the g.d. outboard was crapping out at RPMs slightly above idle. 

Meanwhile a solid 10 kn was cranking in from the river and I barely had enough RPM to make head-way back to the mooring, with less than adequate steerage. 

What a CF.

Everytime I trtied to goose the RPMs up to make some progress to windward the O/B would crap out. But, with patience and vigilance, I finally made it. Never been so happy to snap a mooring pennant!  Brought the 3.5 home to see what's up with the HS jet. Maybe a bit of a clog. 

A brilliant sail up to the remains of The Key Bridge.

Spread a little ashy remains off Jaz Point in honor or dear departed friend, Garry.  A tiny cupfull of water polution maybe, but Garry did much much more for the Cheapeake watershed. His homestead alone was a testiment to storm water run-off abatement,  RIP our dear friend.