Dumbest Move Ever Seen

A sharp knife!!!

 

Any crew being responsable for something as stupid as that should be shot.

 

"eventually the mooring cleats just ripped out of the deck."
a costly consequence.

Funny how God/the gods/the universe applies swift and appropriate justice sometimes ...

 

Just not often enough in my humble opinion.

Mychael

 

Off at a total tangent, but the cleat remark reminded me of a boatbuilding frind of mine back in Inverness (he was a kiwi by the way...hated being thought of as an Australian).
But to include the 'dumb' move - it was soon after Maggie Thatcher's lot introduced the Value Added Tax (GST in Australia).
'Luxury' items such as yachts were taxed at 25 percent; 'kit' boats were a modest 10 percent. Big Jamie would build a craft, say 45 foot cruising yacht worth up to eighty- ninety thousand pounds sterling ($180,000 even in those days). But when the owner arrived to collect he would be handed a cleat, a couple of screws, and a screwdriver. In answer to the incredulous looks Jamie would say - screw that on mate...and you've just bought a 'kit boat' - saving fifteen percent in Value Added Tax....

 

you know we had same happen in NZ ABT same time , the bloody pm must of got the idea off thatcher, he taxed all boats 20% overnight, even ones built in backyard, it killed the marine industry there
I had just spent 7 years building my own, so 20% , like others spent their money on golf etc, it was wicked, I remember the sparmaker backdating the rig

 

The US also, in 1990, introduced a luxury tax on "yachts" built in the US, supposed to soak the rich. The rich didn't get there by being stupid. They bought overseas, some good US builders went under as a result. Eventually it was repealed because it didn't bring in any revenue to speak of and cost craftsmen jobs.

 

Epo Returns to the Sea
or

I Didn't Think THAT Would Happen

or

Hey Y'All: Watch This!

Beinge, a Story, in One Acte
by
eponodyne


A drop of a fluid surrounded by another fluid forms a sphere. Air, under certain strict definitions, is indeed a fluid. More definitely, so is sweat. If this sphere were to be viewed from a couple feet away and below, it would refract the sun into the miraculous prism it is from an unaesthetic perch on the end of my nose.

It trembles.

It falls.

Another will be along shortly.

I am on the trampoline of a Hobie Cat in a fresh breeze that I can't feel. The sail feels it. The sail wants to fly, and it can't. We are fast aground on a sandbar. We ain't goin' nowheres. This makes the sail very sad. This is a moment for reflection, before one would hop off (probably onto a stingray) and ignominiously push the head of the sailboat around so one can push it off into deeper water. This is a time when one could seriously wonder Where It All Went Wrong.

Oddly enough, it starts in a bar....

I had run some errands that morning, found out that I didn't fuckin' much cotton to the idea of going to work, and proposed to my partner that we repair, post-haste, to the local watering hole where a variety of beverages could be purchased and used as God intended. He thought that was a stunning idea, and agreed. So we awayed to Earl's Hideaway Lounge. Right on the Indian River, big windows facing the view (this is important, both in general architecture and for the purposes of this story), Miss Bea layin' down the gospel on her char-grill... Good way to kill a couple of hours.

We had just taken the first sips of our drinks when the barkeep said, "How long is that sailboat gonna sit there?" We pondered. Someone else chimed in, "I bet that thing ain't registered." We pondered some more.

"One way to find out," I said. I trotted across the boulevard, jumped down to the beach and looked at it. It was in pretty scabby shape, but nothing really wrong with it. Rigging a little loose, tramp a little UV-damaged, but all the bits and parts mostly there. Including the sail. But not including any registration numbers.

I walked back into the bar. "Anybody wanta go sailin?"

Blank looks tinged with incredulity.

"Anybody gonna call the law?"

Negative headshakes.


On hoisting the sail, I was a little eager. Strong nylon, fully battened... This is gonna be awesome. Right? What could go wrong?

Well, the boom could come out of its track just as the wind gusted but before I'd connected the mainsheet. This might, you can see, send the sail out over Indian River Boulevard and all the cars promenading down it on Good-Friday Morning. A sail that, for all its being gaily sewn of red and white ripstop nylon, is now alternately gaining and losing lift, streaming from the head of the mast on a dangerously thin and suspect cable. A sail that, furthermore, has eight or ten sharp battens poking out of its after edge; and that has a thirty pound, nine-foot long chunk of aluminum on the end that's doing all the flailing. A wiser fella than I would have run like hell the first time it boomed like a howitzer. I was cursed with an active imagination and a sense of duty. In the end, with no more than two rope burns bad enough to notice, I got the sail to crash into a mangrove bush. Only like four or five minutes later.

And then the fun really started. I got the boom remounted, everything tied down all snug and Bristol-fashion, got the sail rehoisted, got the boat unmoored and shoved it out into knee-deep water.

The breeze freshened. The sail filled. The boat began to move. Right toward a hurricane-blasted dock. SO LADS! Ready about--off sheets--helm's alee--TACKING--and we stall, in irons, head to wind and going nowhere.

Eventually, it ends up on the opposite tack, with no cursing or effort on my part at all, mostly. The breeze freshens--the noble sail luffs once and then fills in a tremendous curve--the hulls begin to talk as water chatters down the sides--I hear the port hull kiss bottom, then starboard, then there's no sound at all because we are once again, going nowhere.



Repeat as necessary for an hour.


And so I sit, stone sober; sweating and windbound in a sparkling breeze, because I can't get out on either tack. In a minute I'm going to sail right back to shore. Douse the sail. Tie her off.

And head back into the bar, and its waiting patrons.

Waiting and watching.



I see I failed to convey how abjectly terrified I was when I was trying to get the sail under control. But whaddaya gonna do? I messed it up, I should be the one to fix it, right? Yeah, right; Try getting your body to move when your brain is convinced it's gonna be exposed to open light and air at any second. What's the dividing line between courage and foolishness?

 

Epo my friend, there comes a time when 'tis wise to say (in whatever language you use) "**** it I'm outa here"! One then slides gently over the stern onto the sand bank and walks away whistling "Dixie"!

You it would appear have not as yet (but I'm sure will soon) this amazing fact of life! good Luck in the learning! (Still think positive, you won't be the first nor certainly the last!)

 

http://www.access-security.com/images/accident_images/Boat_Accident_Serious.JPG

 

One of my best friends invited me to go fishing with him in his new bass boat .He had just bought the new Foxcraft and had only had it in the water one time before that day . This was his first boat , and needless to say , he had a lot to learn . Anyway , we loaded up all of the gear and headed for Inland Lake ( a deep clear 1600 acre lake in central Alabama ) . Now when I say deep I mean 50 yards from the boat launch and your in 100 feet of water . When we got to Inland we backed down to the ramp and took the straps off of the boat and got her ready to go . My friend Glenn climbed up in the boat and I backed him into the water , when he was clear of the trailer I pulled out and had to go probably 100 yards away from the launch to park the truck . OK by the time I parked and walked back to the pier to get in the boat he had been afloat for 3 or 4 minutes . So as I was walking back , I noticed that the stern was sitting low in the water and the bow was of course sitting way high . As I stepped up on the pier I said man that thing sure sits low in the back doesn't it . lol . I can still see the look on Glenn's face and that was 15 years ago . His mouth dropped open and he jumped up from the driver's seat in absolute panic and squeeked " I forgot to put the plug in " by then the water was allready starting to come up through the floor drain . He had the engine idling allready and I took a couple of quick steps and jumped in the boat and said take off man ! By then he had turned pale as a ghost . He said man your crazy it's over 100 feet deep out here ! I was yelling at him almost by then to take off , telling him it would run the water out . Anyway he sat down and gassed on it and I ran up on the front and leaned as far forward as I could to help the boat plane out . It really did some digging before it finally planed out . We ran the water out and I reached over the back of the boat and put the plug in . Needless to say , Glenn has done a lot of boating over the last 15 years since that day and he'll tell ya right now -- he's never forgot to check the plug . lol . I was amazed that he didn't need a change of pants after that one .

 

Definitively dumb

Just reported on local news:

1. An "alleged" (can't ruin the stupid sod's reputation, y'know) thief and proven idiot was rescued from the ceiling of a pharmacy after he was stuck for more than 12 hours in a ventilation duct into which he apparently crawled in an attempt to rob the place after hours.

2. An even bigger idiot was rescued and taken to a hospital where he is on a ventilator, suffering from broken ribs and internal injuries after he jumped, for a video made by a friend, from the 70'/21 m Ringling Causeway Bridge, in Sarasota. Reportedly, he landed on his stomach after being startled by a boat emerging from under the bridge as he jumped. His injuries are nearly identical to those suffered by the last person to attempt a jump from the bridge.

Amazing. He was startled by a boat emerging from under the bridge ... Duh.

 

Demo Ride

Ok I did this,

We live in WA and build cool looking 13-18 ft powercats, fmaily stuff. So a family with little experience in boating [ Mainly canoe experience ] Decides they're going to upgrade and get an F3 Aksano, they jump in the plane to come see how we build the boat + get a demo ride, I tell them Yeah surem there is a lake 10 Min. From the Factory, I get my coolest prop entertain them as I drive them to the lake. Then I launch the boat, give them the F3' boating 101, and set them off [ No secondery rescue boat Temp aroun 40 Deg F ] The go out have a blast for 10-15 minutes, then they stop in the middle of the lake and all I hear is engine revving but no movement..

SO I Turns out I forgot to put the nut on the propr shaft or the cotter pin, they had to use their hadns like an oar to get back which took about 10 minutes..

They said they will buy a boat from us despite the event... and thanked me..

I have not seen them for about.. 2 years.. still waiting...

www.aksano.com

 

One afternoon comming off the water during a fishing comp there was a lot of windsurfers going over and back the narrow 200m or so water. Amongst them a woman 'sailor' who fell of about 50m from shore. She got up and resumed sailing, only now there was about ten guys suddenly sailing with her, she thought it was great, yapping away at any and all. Reached the other side and turned around towards the launch. Back at the ranch (so to speak) the husband was standing on shore jumping, waving and shouting. You know how some guys can overreact

Only when she was within hearing distance could she make out 'your costume is off'

Well now, the Readers Digest says it pays to advertise eh !

 

dumbest decision

I used to sail my Sunfish sailboard off of Point Judith Rhode Island. One sparkling September day I launched in the salt pond inside the breakwater and headed out for a brisk sail. Getting out through the chanel cut was easy going with a falling tide and all looked to be going well. I sailed out into the outer harbor in the "shadow' of the breakwater which is almost a mile long. To the south east there were some fairly dark clouds that I decided to ignore (after all, I had just driven 60 miles to do some sailing). As I continued out, a runabout of about 25' came by me heading into the harbor. The skipper made a rotating motion with his hand, which I couldn't make sense of and promptly dis-regarded. A minute or two later, I altered course to port on a reach away from the breakwater only to be caught in an absolutely ferocious wind. Instantly the Sunfish was screaming from wave top to wave top and out of control. Trying to come about to get back into the lee of the breakwater, I rode up on top of a huge wave and was blown upside down instantly. I got the boat upright three times only to have it blown down again. At this point, the powerboat skipper returned and asked if I was ready to be rescued. I was , he did. Back in the salt pond, I beached my craft and climbed into the cap on the back of my pick-up truck and was asleep instantly. Two hours later, sore in every bone in my body, I loaded my boat and headed home. The force of the blow-down was sufficient to put a bend of about 10 degrees in the mast just above where it comes out of the mast socket. I limped and hobbled for about a week before I felt human again. Seems that what hit me was a classic squall that is refferred to as a "white squall" locally because there is no rain or black clouds accompanying it. Winds were estimated at between 60 and 75 MPH and three people were drowned off the coast that day, if memory serves me correctly (almost 25 years ago). I was one of the lucky ones.
and the Sirens still call my name