Month: June 2021

Drummer

Another short excerpt:

 

That cold December day, or week in Paradise, Clyde, Brian and I were walking down a deserted Kalakaua Avenue turning left on to the Ala Moana Blvd, equally deserted. As we approached the Ilikai hotel we sensed that something was amiss. There, out on the rock cut breakwater of the yacht club, just to the west of the Ilikai Lagoon stood a large number of people, all looking to seaward, oblivious it seemed to us to the strong westerly wind, which was cutting and cold. Their attention was drawn to the inshore waters that were buttressed by the rock interface between sea and shore. We ran out there to see what was happening. To our amazement a large sailboat was bobbing up and down on the broad reef and shallows that were just east of the Ala Moana Yacht Club and Ala Wai marina navigation channel. This was the same water that Clyde, Brian and I often crossed on our surfboards to reach the outer reef breakers that were about one quarter of a mile offshore.

It was an amazing site to behold. The sailboat, christened the “Drummer” lay on its port side, her decks awash with the surf that was rolling in and across her decks. The white breaking, foaming water was in stark contrast to a grey sky and the dull grey colour of the water. Gone were the tropical hues of turquoise and the shades of pastel greens and indigo blues that were indicative of a tropical sun on a shallow tropical sea. It was as if the atmosphere was attuned to the tragedy of “The Drummer” as she lay there on her sides like the forlorn lady that she was.

What on earth happened? Everyone was asking of themselves and of those around them. No one seemed to know the details. Just then I saw Skip and a few others up and away from us jump off of the breakwater into the surf and make their way out to “The Drummer,” no doubt to lend a hand and to offer assistance. Clyde and I looked at each other and without saying a word jumped into the water ourselves, which was about waist deep at that point. We were able to walk out to the boat without too much difficulty. Just as we were approaching her a large wave came in and lifted the “Drummer” up and into the vertical plane, and then bringing her down hard on her opposite, starboard side. The masts came up slowly from the horizontal on the port side, rising like some sentinel of the Hawaiian water goddess Namaka, swaying back and forth in the sky above before falling again toward the sea. As the masts came down a shudder could be felt throughout the entire vessel. This occurred frequently as the larger waves rolled in, caught the “Drummer’s” bow, lifted her high and up and away, cascading water over her decks and under her keel before surging out from under the stern’s transom and then racing to the breakwater ashore. This went on from time to time and was a warning to all of us that this was indeed a very dangerous game we were playing. The crowds seem to sense this as their numbers grew on the breakwater.

In spite of the dangers we managed to get close. Some people emerged from the cabin aboard. It was an eerie sensation to us seeing some of the “Drummers” crew coming up from below decks out of a hatch whose aspect lay on the horizontal. On seeing us they waved us off.

“Thanks man” someone yelled above a cacophony of the sea, the wind and the groaning, moaning creaking sound of the “Drummer.” Like a baby in distress, it was a sound that I would not want to ever hear again.

“We have all the help we need.” A woman said. “Any more would just complicate things. We have everything under control. Thanks.” Skip appeared, saw me, and also waved me off.

“Jim, go ashore, to the clubhouse and see how Harry is doing. He is one of the crew who was injured in this mishap. Let us know. Perhaps you and Clyde could act as messengers for the “Drummer’s” crew here.”

“Will do Skip.” Clyde and I turned back and went to the clubhouse. It took some time to get there. When we arrived we were amazed at the level of activity going on. The lower decks of the clubhouse were set up as a temporary Command Centre to address the problem of the “Drummer.” Staff from the clubhouse had set up some tables with charts and phones spread out upon them. In time I was able to locate the club’s Commodore who was the acting “On Scene Commander” until the Coast Guard showed up, expected shortly. I introduced myself and told him that Clyde and I could be used as messengers as the need arises. I also asked him of the condition of Harry, one of the “Drummer’s” crew who had been injured. He told me that Harry had been taken to the hospital with suspected broken ribs. No other injuries of a serious nature could be ascertained….for now……

……Derek Armstrong, the owner of the “Drummer” gathered his crew together on the lawn of the yacht club.

“We have to go to our assigned berth. Down on Kilo dock. Our time here at the visitors berth is up.”

“Now?” Mary asked incredulously. “It’s blowing a gale out there Derek.” A Kona wind had come up. Kona was a Hawaiian term for a very strong dangerous wind.

We should be fine under power Mary. Harry will secure “Drummer’s” topside and man the foredeck. I want you and George to take the stern. I’ll be driving.”

“I don’t know about this.” Mary continued. “Why can’t we just wait until it calms down some? Tomorrow perhaps. “After all…” she looked at her crewmates for concurrence…”Drummer’s” a big boat and will be difficult to manage in this wind. Her freeboard is extremely high. Her sail area could be a detriment to our ability to safely maneuver her.”

“I don’t see a problem.” Derek said emphatically. Harry and George said nothing. They got up and went across the lawn to Drummer’s slip and boarded her. Mary followed, reluctantly.

In time Harry had secured the “Drummer” for their short jaunt to their new berth on “Kilo” Dock. He then singled up forward and rigged the remaining line for self slipping. Mary and George did the same aft. The forward and after springs were released.

Derek started the diesel engine and the “Drummer” came to life. Without saying a word Derek motioned George to let go astern and for Harry to ease out on the bow line. Once he was confident he had sufficient way on and clear of the slip, he motioned for Harry to let go forward. “Drummer” was underway under power. Once clear of the slips Derek manouvered the “Drummer” toward the turning basin just off of the yacht club’s main channel. Mary, George and Harry remained at their assigned stations holding on, watching.

Out in the main channel the wind was very strong. Derek was having difficulty altering course. As Mary suggested the “Drummer’s” high freeboard sail area was causing problems.

Derek yelled up above the howling wind.

“HARRY, WE HAVE TO GO OUT AND INTO THE NAVIGATION CHANNEL TO COME ABOUT AND RUN BACK INTO “K” DOCK BEFORE THE WIND.” He then paused and looked at Mary and George. Mary said nothing. She just looked about at the situation as it was unfolding. She was noncommittal in her judgement of Derek.

“HOLD ON HARRY. HERE WE GO.”

“Drummer” headed out the navigation channel. The wind was howling and whistling through the shrouds and the rigging of not only the Drummer but in the rigging of the other vessels at the marina. As the strength of the Kona wind increased in varying degrees of gusts the whistling sounds of the rigging increased into a very high pitched squeal. It was scary. At the same time the height of the seas in the exposed channel increased dramatically. Harry was caught off-guard and found himself holding on to the standing rigging for his very life. The “Drummer” responded in kind. Like some maritime thrill ride her bow rose and fell chaotically, coming down hard into the oncoming seas and swells then rising again in a steep ascent as the next wave rolled in.  Occasionally Harry was completely immersed into the water, almost invisible with every onslaught of the crashing waves. Derek realized that he had made a grave error in judgement. But it was too late. He had committed Drummer and her crew. He had to continue.

They all saw it. A rogue wave of about eight to ten feet in height was coming down the channel, hard and fast onto them.

“HOLD ON.” Derek yelled. Harry didn’t hear him. The “Drummer’s” bow came up fast. Higher and higher and higher it rose. Then, in a moment, the bow seemed to stop in its tracks and in its relentless rise into the sky. For a few seconds respite…a great pause…as if in a calm. And then, like a roller coaster transversing the summit of the “killer” hill, “Drummer’s” bow turn downward and then crashed with its full force of potential energy in a descending motion into the oncoming wave. For a brief second Harry was completely weightless. His stomach turned over. His life was not in his hands.

Caught off guard by the sheer force of the waves and the wind, Harry’s footing gave way. His balance was compromised. He couldn’t hold on much longer. To make matters worse a second rogue wave rolled down the channel. This one was higher than the first, about twelve feet in height. The same terrifying motion occurred.  Harry was gone in an instant over the port side of the boat. Luckily for Harry Derek saw what had happened.  He immediately came hard over to port so as to clear Harry from a pounding hull and a menacingly dangerous rudder and screw. Seeing what had occurred Mary and George instinctively threw a few lifelines over the port side hoping that Harry would see them and grab one. He did. They were able to pull him over to the Jacob’s ladder and get him back onboard. He was in major pain.

Derek’s hard over to port saved Harry’s life but it stood the “Drummer” into danger. The alteration to port to avoid Harry put the “Drummer’s” aspect at a right angle to the direction of the wind and sea. The high freeboard acted like a sail area taking the “Drummer” on an uncontrolled ride. There was nothing that Derek could do to manage her. The high sea and the swell added to her distress taking her high up and over the rocks and reef that skirted the channel’s port side and onto the shallow area beyond. Drummer’s full keel lodged it self into the sand in about four feet of water. She then fell over onto her port side while the engine coughed and then quit.

Except for Harry’s injuries they were all safe but in shock. Derek called for emergency aid on VHF Ch 11 suspecting Harry suffered some broken ribs. When the situation had settled somewhat George helped Harry ashore by pulling him in a the Drummer’s punt via the breakwater and then to the medical first aid resources at the clubhouse. From there he was taken by an awaiting ambulance to the medical clinic on King Street….

….The coast guard arrived. They quickly assessed the situation and took charge. I made myself known to them and told them I had just been out to the boat. The remaining crew seemed safe and were securing what they could of the Drummer. The coast guard had a surf boat available and before long had set up direct communications with Derek and Mary, Skip and a few others that had offered to help. Other than a diesel fuel tank that had been breached all was well. The hull seemed intact. They spent the night and the next morning clearing the diesel out of the bilges. The Coast Guard provided Derek with some fuel bladders to ensure that no fuel leaked out onto the surf and sand of the immediate area around the “Drummer.”

It would take the next day’s afternoon before the tide was high enough to take “Drummer” out of the shallows. This they did and then towed her to a repair facility at Sand Island in the port of Honolulu. That was it for us. To show their gratitude Derek treated us all to a dinner at one on the local restaurants that evening. The adventure may have been over but I felt good about it…that I had had a small hand in helping out this boat in distress.

Update: It was 1981. I was standing the middle watch (midnight to 0400) in HMCS Saskatchewan, one of the training warships of the Royal Canadian Navy. We were enroute to Hawaii from Esquimalt BC, our home port. We were about half way there. Suddenly the VHF radio, Channel 16, came to life: “Securite, Securite, Securite…be on the lookout for sailing vessel “The Drummer” out of Anchorage, missing, while in transit from Honolulu to Alaska. Be on the lookout….”

I wondered if Derek, Mary, George and Harry were still with her. Had Derek made another fateful decision? I made the sign of the cross, said a short prayer of remembrance, and hope for their safety.

Presumed lost at sea. She was never heard from or seen again.

SJ….Out

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This Is Rich

Oh this is rich:

This is even richer:

The End of Bilingualism? Trudeau government will recognize French as the official language of Quebec.

He is bent on destroying Canada.

Richest BS:

His arrogance knows no bounds.

Image

Is that his new squeeze? Rules are for thee and not for me.

Unreal.

SJ…Out

 

 

Lanai

Another thing about Clyde and Brian:

Two days later Clyde and Brian called on me to help them secure “Before the Wind” to their assigned berth out on the outer breakwater. This spot was ideal for them as they had the Ala Wai surf on their doorstep and were products of the Southern California surfing lifestyle.

I kept in touch with Clyde and Brian over the next few months. I was not attuned to their every day activities as they had their own agenda and each other for company. I did partake in some of their exploits to earn some extra cash, some of which are stories unto themselves. I do not know how he did it but Clyde latched on to a Honolulu Harbour automotive rep that used Clyde, Brian, myself and others to deliver Japanese made cars off of the sea transports to the various car dealers around town. Honolulu, Oahu, did not have auto carrying transport trucks that we take for granted in CONUS or in Canada. These cars had to be offloaded and driven individually to the dealers. On a good day we could ferry about fifty of them. We were paid about three bucks and hour and became very familiar with Datsuns, Toyotas, and Hondas, which we liked the best.

Clyde also took it upon himself to offer “Before the Wind” for sailing “adventure” trips to the other islands. I helped him with one of these jaunts to the pineapple island of Lanai. This was a weird but hilarious sail as it turned out. Clyde did not have a clue as to what he was expected to do for this family of four from Omaha Nebraska. No matter as he winged it and his confidence and charm ruled the day and won over Mrs Omaha, as I liked to call her. She thought Clyde was a cutie. I was brought along for maturity, surely not for my sailing prowess. I barely knew how to tie a bowline.

The sail to Lanai was an overnighter, about 130 nautical miles. As we sat on the upper decks in the middle of the night, the Omaha family were in the bunks below, asleep I had hoped but probably seasick. Hoped for, I say, for Clyde, Brian and I didn’t have an inkling as to where we were. Besides, we were there, under a canopy of stars, in the middle of the night, in the middle of Hawaiian nowhere, discussing our predicament and laughing our guts out. At one point we could see some dim lights coming from the island of Molokai – Saint Damian of the Lepers fame.

Praying and hoping and hoping and praying that when the sun rose the island of Lanai would show itself. A transistor radio was of no use to us here nor was a plastic sextant. Our plan was one of dead reckoning: not for us or for the Omaha family in some religious context but in the physical guesswork of time, distance and compass bearing from the Ala Wai, Oahu to a small bay off of Hulopo’e Beach. We reckoned on our luck and luckily for us, and the Omaha family, Lanai appeared over the distant horizon with the morning sun. By noon we had reached our destination.

Clyde did provide food and drink as such but from the mindset of a seventeen year old. Nutrition and wellness were an afterthought. Yet Omaha did not seem to matter, especially for Mrs Omaha. Her blond bouffant hairdo had fizzled out by this time, no makeup and she kicked off her heels for the more practical bare feet. Mr Omaha was still wearing his pastel blue pants, pink shirt, white belt with matching white shoes – you know – the ones with the buckles on them. Yet he was still smiling after what had been a rough night for all of them. I will not go into anything more as this adventure is a story unto itself. Needless to say we survived the dangerous beach surf while tendering the family from the ketch to the beach. We were able to deal with the sand flies and the fruit flies and the other tropical critters at our picnic area and we made it back to Oahu and the Ala Wai in one piece and nowhere worse for wear. Expecting Clyde to be hit with a law suit for sailing malfeasance, the Omaha family rewarded Clyde and Brian with a bountiful “beny” breakfast at the Ilikai Hotel the next morning, in addition to the cash for the cruise. I will say this that for all of the miserable wretchedness that this family had to endure for four days they will never forget their Hawaiian vacation for as long as they live.

Hey, check out my other two books, Great reads and I could use your support:

 

 

 

SJ……Out

Young Sailor…Part 2

Another short excerpt from my latest story. Continuing with Clyde:

Luke gave me and Clyde another beer. ”

“And then what happened?” I asked

“Luke here was willing to come with me to Hawaii. It was not a difficult choice for us to abandon school for a tropical paradise. No choice at all. An easy decision. Off we went and where pray tell after that, or this? Who knows, or cares. We live for the day man. Luke and I are livin the dream, out for adventure…an excellent adventure…right Luke?

Luke smiled but said nothing.

We left Long Beach thirty five days ago.

“What? And you just arrived today?” Even I knew that that was almost twice the time it should take to make the transit across.

Clyde laughed. “We WERE getting low on provisions. Down to hard tack and non perishables. We had a stack of stashed shit from our New Zealand trip that was still stored onboard. We fished too and caught a few. Yeah, it was getting tense but we managed…didn’t we Luke?

“Yeah man.” Luke responded after a slug of beer.

“Yeah.” Clyde continued, looking over at Luke for concurrence. “Navigation was a sore point with us…and money.” We didn’t have a lot of either. I got a large scale chart of the Eastern Pacific…three actually… and the islands, bought a plastic sextant for 50 bucks and learned how to take a noon day latitude shot. We noted the latitude of Oahu from the chart and off we went. Initially we sailed west by southwest by compass until we reached the latitude line of Oahu…around twenty one and a half degrees north latitude. Once there we sailed west straddling the twenty one degree latitude line all the way.” he paused to take another draft of his warm beer.

I shook my head in disbelief. This was comical and foolhardy…but an amazingly interesting account of questionable bravado, as only a seventeen year old could possess

“Then what?” I asked

“Wind was not our friend. We were not making good time. Seas were calm most of the way across. The only indication we would have had that we were getting near was from our VHF radio but that was nothing but static squelch almost all of the time. That made sense as that frequency range was only as good as a line of sight distance from the top of the main mast.

“So we took out our transistor radio. It was one of those long radios that were popular in the mid to late sixties.” Luke brought it out to show me. It was silver in colour with a metal mesh front hiding the speakers and an enlightened display panel showing four frequency bands across the top. On the very top of the radio beside the handle was an antenna that could be raised and lowered and extended in a line up to about 50 degrees from the horizontal.

“Good thing we had batteries otherwise we would still be out there flopping around somewhere.” He shook his head. “Once powered up we would hold that radio with its antenna extended at about a 30 degree angle from the horizontal and then point it across a wide arc of our visible horizon. Sure enough, over time, we picked up a radio station, especially during periods at dawn and dusk. A great deal of interference and a static mumbo jumbo of voices and songs were picked up. We would point the radio across the axis of where the signal strength was coming from. Its intensity would increase as our orientation changed and over time we picked up one of Oahu’s AM stations. We set a course along the axis of the signal, checking it out for confirmation every few days. Sure enough, we picked up the light at Makapuu Point on the southern eastern end of Oahu and knew we had made it. After a few more days we arrived here at the Ala Wai.”

“Wow.” I said “Holy shit man. You guys are some lucky dudes.”

“I know.” Clyde said. “Rudimentary and basic perhaps but it worked…in time.”

Luke nodded his head in agreement but offered nothing to the story.

I checked the time. I had to go. I’ll see you guys later. I am just over at G35. If you need a hand when you get your assigned berth lat me know.

“Will, do.”

“Thanks for the beer Clyde. Thanks Luke. Great to meet you guys. See ya around.” and I left.

And that is the way it was for Clyde and Luke: two young guys out for adventure with not a care in the world: getting by on their wits. Clyde was the leader of the two, a natural, and I could detect why. He was charismatic. People were drawn to him. He possessed a maturity for his years that was evident but hard to define. He was one of those individuals in life that you meet from time to time: one of life’s characters without being so. It was just the way he was. An ingrained character trait: friendly, funny, confident and street smart. Even though he was young in physical years he had much of life’s experiences under his belt. He was anything but risk averse as he was eager and willing to take chances for all of the rewards, graces and gifts that life had to offer. Who, in their right mind would consider sailing a forty five foot ketch from Long Beach to Honolulu on a whim without so much as a second thought? Yes Clyde was one of life’s characters and heaven only knows that the world needs more characters. On top of that he had a very unique and wonderful name.

SJ…Out

 

 

Canada Is Killing It

They must think we’re stupid. Of course they do. You voted for them didn’t you?

Jason Kenny, Premier of Alberta, is caught having a rooftop lunch during Covid restrictions sans mask and sans social distancing. Caught, he defends his actions in stating: “But it was a working lunch.”

There is no such thing as a working lunch Jason, or a free lunch, unless of course you are eating a big bowl of green garden salad at home with the kids. Crunch, crunch, crunch….or working for the government.

“C’mon Johnny, eat your greens.” Dad said.

“I’m workin on it pops.” Johnny said. Dad beamed with pride. He was so proud of his son. “He will make a good government employee some day. Set for life.”

Meanwhile:

COVID-19: Alberta moves into Stage 2 of reopening — Here’s what you can and can’t do.

Sales of green salad skyrocketing.

Sad as it is authorities think they found the graves of 215 indigenous children at an unmarked grave site in Kamloops BC, run by the Catholic Church. Our federal government’s response? Let’s have a national day of mourning and remembrance – Sept 30th. It will be a national statutory holiday – but only for federal employees. Yeah that’ll do it. Less work for the feds is what we desperately need.

Trudeau travels to Gee 7, NATO, as Canada grapples with Islamophobia, residential schools. Great! He is out of the country and can do no harm to us.

NATO – Not Another Travel Order, or the international cocktail circuit.

Sad as it is about the Muslin family run down by a disturbed madman in London Ontario, Hazmat Singh, leader of the federal NDP, calls Canada a racist country. That would be all Canadians. No Hazmat, I am not racist. You may be but I’m not.

In response Hazmat calls for a national day of mourning for all Muslim Canadians. It will be a statutory holiday on 30 October, the day before Halloween, but only for Federal employees. Yeah, that’ll do it. One less day to destroy the country…huh Hazmat. But more chocolate candy.

In light of the indigenous graves found in Kamloops, Trudeau reiterates that Canada, and Canadians, have committed genocide. Calls for a Canadian genocidal day of mourning. It will be a statutory holiday but only for the Federal employees. It will be on November 30th.

Killing it man….

At a press conference, someone asked Trudeau about the 22 Canadians killed on 9/11 by the Muslims. “Can we have a national holiday in remembrance for them?” she asked. “Say on December 30th?”

“Next Question” Trudeau responded.

Another reported jumped in…”Hey, what about the 10 Canadian people of Toronto who were killed by a Muslim man who ran them down with his van. Can we have a national day of mourning for them and a statutory holiday in which the Feds have a day off…say on January 30th?”

“Next question.” Trudeau responded.

“Wow, he sure is a virtuous guy.” A female reporter from Ontario gushed after the PM’s comments. Her colleagues from Quebec and the maritime were also in a state of prime ministerial rapture after the PM’s comments. “Canada should enact a national day of celebration and admiration for Prime Minister Justin Trudeau.” they beamed. “Say July 32nd.

Celebrities react to the 215 Indigenous children’s bodies found at a Canadian residential school. Being more virtuous than the rest of us these celebrities are calling for a Celebrity Day of Mourning in Canada. It will be a statutory holiday held on the 30th February or the day after the Juno awards, but only for them as they will be hungover from post Juno partying.

Canada’s opinions of U.S. markedly higher with Biden in White House, poll suggests. “Yeah, well, yeah, most of the Canadian electorate especially  in Ontario, Quebec and the Maritimes, is braindead, just like Biden.”

Canada proposes to settle indigenous lawsuit after discovery of children’s remains….”How much?” someone asked. “And what did these children die from?”

Like the Pope, Canada refuses to make a formal apology to the Indigenous People.

But…but…Canada apologizes to the Italian community for their forced internment during the Second World War. “Yeah, but…but the Italians invented spaghetti. What did the Indigenous invent? Have ya ever tried Bannock Billy.”

In light of this indigenous scandal, every Canadian Prime Minister from  John A Macdonald to Jean Chretien is culpable and should be held accountable for their actions (Indian Act of 1969) or inactions and every statue to their name and legacy should be toppled. In fact:

This will never end until the entire country of Canada is turned over to the Indigenous People to own, to manage and to govern.

And in response:

“Let’s have a national statutory holiday to celebrate Indigenous Canada. Say on the third Saturday of August. It will be for all non federal employees.

Crazy but sad Canada.

Ode to Trudeau:

SJ…Out