The Bounty Hearings

The tall ship Bounty's sinking was a tragic event around which many questions swirled. Why did the captain take the Bounty into the path of Hurricane Sandy? What was the condition of the vessel? What did the USCG inquiry find out? I have been following Mario Vittone's insightful coverage of the Bounty hearings on gCaptain. This is the link to the gCaptain page  covering  the hearings. Start at "Rotten Frames." This is a very good, and sobering read. This is the link to Mario's website.

Miami boat show 2013 roundup

The numbers aren't in yet for the Miami boat show, but by looking at the crowds on Friday, and the struggle it took to park, I think it is going to be a well attended show. My day was marred by rain especially in the afternoon which stopped me from visiting the "In the Water" venues. As I expected, new marine electronic product introductions have taken a big leap. My favorite was the new Raymarine Dragonfly sonar, a take on the Navico "Structure Scan", but using CHIRP technology with the brand name DownVision. With a price of about $700 I was extremely impressed.

This just fortifies my sense that we have just barely scratched the surface of sonar CHIRP technology. Just imagine this technology looking forward for obstacles, and being able to show you a safe path through shallow waters, or warning "Danger your boat can't go there!" Just musing out loud.

Hushpuppy exposé

In 1957 a wooden ketch was being battered in a gale and started taking on water from a split hull seam. It quickly came about and ran hard due east towards the Florida coastline.  The eastward turn was fortuitous, and the vessel started to run a bit ahead of the storm. A pass was seen, and used, although at that point with several feet of water sloshing in the cabin, a beach would have been acceptable.

The pass was Egmont Key, and the vessel hooked to the south seeking the lee side of Anna Maria Island. The boat was bailed down as much as practical, and the family fled to shore. The storm followed them into the coast, roiled overnight, broke the anchor chain and drove the ketch onto a sandbar. 

In the morning a tug attempts to pull the boat off the bar, but to no avail, A plan is hatched to remove one of the running backstays and use the tug to heel over the full keeled vessel. It starts to shift, and then with a horrific crack, the mainmast splintered, and crashed into the water. In 1957 dollars $9000 dollars of rigging was now floating in the water.

Like the pioneers who built the sod hut where the wagon wheel broke, the demasted vessel became the first Florida home for the small family. After hull repairs, the boat lived at small inexpensive docks on the local barrier islands. A very rare treat in those days was to go out to eat. What was close, and inexpensive, were the local mom and pop seafood restaurants. The hushpuppies were always my favorite menu choice. Remember this is 1957, and from my five year old perspective, all seafood was fried, and vegetables come out of cans. 

I'm not a gourmand, but I do have an affinity for good food, or I as I like to say it, I've finally reached that station in life where I can afford the high end $5.00 a pound hot dogs. But when it comes to hushpuppies, I'm am very particular. There are only two types of hushpuppies, real ones which are now a very endangered species, or the frozen machine extruded ball like versions now so sadly ubiquitous to most seafood restaurants. 

Pictured above are real hushpuppies. Their distinctive shape comes from a batter being rolled off of a large spoon into the oil giving them an irregular shape. I know to most they're not recognizable, and many are going to say, "This guy is some sort of an elitist, where I live hushpuppies are roundish, and I like them. They're gooey inside and seem to have some wet like onion sort of bits in them."

Now, let's take a look under the hood at a real hushpuppy. When you break it open, it's actually fully cooked inside, and fluffy like the inside of a piece of cornbread. It's also speckled with small bits of chef added mojo.

Behold the machine extruded hushpuppies. They are about the same everywhere. In reality, the ingredients are nearly identical to real hushpuppies, but they have to be smaller to actually cook the frozen interior. Since the mojo added to the batter has been frozen, things like onion tend to be mushy. Try freezing an onion, thawing it, slice it, and put it on a salad. It's not good eats.

When you break open the machine extruded cooked product, you can see the interior is a bit mushy inside, and I'm being kind. If you blow up the picture you can see the less than a tasty ring of grease just under the crusty layer.

Here is another example. Eight little balls lost in a big basket. The order came out lukewarm in just a couple of minutes. No doubt a really big batch had been fried up and then left to languish under a heat lamp.

The good news is that it was cooked all the way through. The bad news was no mojo, and it was johnny cake sweet. By no mojo, I mean no onion, pepper, garlic, jalapeno, chilies, celery, chives, scallions, corn, hot sauce or the millions of other things you could add to them. These were just tepid balls of cornmeal and flour fried up, rattling around in a large basket.

Without regard to my personal health, and as a public service for all I have randomly visited about seven or eight of our local seafood establishments. I ordered hush puppies and a beer for lunch. The Beer? Yep Yuengling, you can't properly divine the exquisite taste and textures of this fried food by washing it down with a glass of skim milk.

Only one in the lot actually made their own hushpuppies, and unfortunately, all the rest served me various versions of the frozen oil-bathed balls. This is amazing, the recipe is stupidly simple, and I don't mind if you use a dry mix to make the batter, as long as you add good mojo. So when you go to a seafood restaurant and want to order hushpuppies, ask to see some first. If they look like jawbreakers, large marbles, wonky ball bearings, cojones, or tiny billiard balls, do yourself a favor, and just say, "Sorry, what a shame, I wanted real hushpuppies, not your deep fried  extruded balls, even if you say they are tasty."

For the record, not a single soul said a word to me as I sat there taking pictures, and eviscerating their food. Walt's Seafood restaurant in Sarasota is the only one I have found to date that makes real hushpuppies. I'm not mentioning the ones who serve the ersatz ones. There must be some more, and when I find them I will add them to this now very shortlist. You're not a real seafood restaurant if you don't serve real hushpuppies. 

Pulitzer Prize rejection

From: Pulitzer Prize Journalism Jury

Subject: Your Pulitzer Prize  journalism entries

Dear Mr Bishop,

Only very grudgingly have we accepted your journalism entry, primarily because you paid the entry fees. We want you to know that despite your fervent assertion you have the word "Newsy" in The Marine Installers Rant's nameplate, it does not automatically qualify your publication for inclusion in the journalism category.

That being said, we have several other issues with your submitted boating related "exposés." One of the tenets of good journalism is to be concise. We can only advise you that your writing style can only be described as very windy at the minimum. We couldn't come up with printable adjectives for the maximum.

We also noted the use of many obviously made up medical syndromes such WBS (wet butt syndrome), CS (cyclops syndrome), RPS (random placement syndrome), and many others.  

One of our jurors was in particular upset with your terminology  "Whiskey Tango Foxtrot." Dressing this euphemistic pig up does not make it any less pejorative, and the use of nater nater is never becoming to a professional journalist.

Mr. Bishop, the list is long and includes your use of fictional personages, made up quotes, delusive leads, and poor news story construction. We suggest that if you want to continue in your tenuous journalism career that you might try submitting your material to the Weekly World News. Since Edwin Newman has left, and Bat Boy is going to retire, there may be an opportunity there for you. You might also try the Huffington Post, we understand they pay the same.

With regards,

Pulitzer Prize Journalism Jury

Scene of the crime

I got the call at 11:00am. The boat was a wreck, and the TV was gone. I asked if anything else was missing or damaged. The owner said no. I shuddered. I already knew what had happened. I reached through the window, stuck the red light on the roof and turned on the siren. It was no doubt zombies. The undead were hard at work again.

N. E. Taylor Boatworks

I love working in this boatyard. There are no cute whirring golf carts driven by staff wearing polo shirts with logos. It smells like salt air, fish, and in older times you could add creosote to the odorous mix. My eyes see sparks flying off steel hulls from grinders, new copper being nailed onto wooden hulls, and vessels of all types. It's a mixed use facility. Fish house, seafood market, boatyard, two restaurants, and commercial fishing boat docks. Something is always going on. Reefer trucks are pulling out with frozen fish and bait, fork trucks are delivering pallets of ice to boats, and lots of fish and crab. The company has been in business in the Cortez Florida area since 1921.

  

2012 BWI writing contest

It's the Boating Writers International annual writing contest again, and this year I'm entered in three categories including my submission of the "Rant" for Original Online Content. I know I certainly fulfilled the "Original" part of this submission, but this category is populated by many very experienced and talented writers. So I'm just going to just cross my fingers. It's always better to be lucky than smart. This category is the only one that requires an essay, and I used a cartoon format. My esteemed editor friend Dick has told me that self deprecating humor is indeed a legitimate form of journalism. You can bet I  jumped on that band wagon in a heartbeat. In this case I had a little fun with Foxed News, and as always I am "Fairly Unbalanced."   

This is the  Bristol Boat TV cartoon
This is the Presidential Boating  cartoon

Welcome to Extendo Inc.

Welcome to Extendo, your marine extended warranty specialists. If you know your parties extension you may enter it now. Please press "1", for Human Relations, please press "2", for accounting, please press "3", for Sales and Marketing, please press "4", for IT services, please press "5", for Investor Relations, please press "6", for Purchasing please press "7", to file a warranty claim, please press "8", if you are a marine technician please press "9".

Thank you, you have reached the Extendo marine warranty claim support department. Please enter the 16 digit claim number followed by the pound key. Thank you, an agent will be with you shortly, There are 11 callers in front of you. Your business is important to us, please continue to hold.

It's not a boat says the Supremes

The city of Riviera Beach, is the loser, Lozman takes the title in this damp litigious bout. This less then elegant floating thingamabob has occupied seven years of marginally riveting court antics, which culminated in an appearance before the Supreme Court. The Supremes have spoken, it's not a boat. No, seriously, you're kidding me. It has all of the obvious characteristics we understand about boats. It floats, enough at any rate. It can be towed very slowly, if there is a second boat behind it to keep it from swinging widely from port to starboard. And it appears to be in need of constant maintenance. This in my mind alone is the defining hallmark of a boat.

Cockpit TV under the arch

It seems fitting to start at the end of the project. We now have a arch mounted TV that looks good when stowed, and yet has a huge range of motion. This is a 28' footish cruiser, and the cockpit functions as the owners main salon. Watching TV before required, as the owner stated, "You had to go down into the dark, and watch it from the bed."

You piece of blagnab jetsam.

You styrene reeking floating piece of fracking junk! I hope your innards turn to outards, and your engines go visey-versey! I hates boats! It's just human nature to hates boats! Why dern you low down, son of a dugout canoe! You'll pay for this, you dog blasted, ornery, no account, bucket of fiberglass!  Look at what you no good fracking rawrbazzle wotten flea bitten varmints done did.

Pump up the volume, maybe?

You never know what direction fixing things on a boat will steer you toward. Even the most trivial tasks, can quickly become odious in a heartbeat. "The radio doesn't work on my new boat, will you look at it?" "Sure, but this is a warranty issue, any repairs will have to be cleared with the dealer first. I'll look at it, and tender an opinion. What's going on with it?" "Well I'm not sure. There apparently was a problem with it, and the dealer said a new radio had been installed. They averred it was working when it left the yard, but it has never worked for me at all."

Cable TV Outer Limits

There is nothing wrong with your television set. Do not attempt to adjust the picture. We are not controlling transmission. We can't make it louder by bringing up the volume. We can't make it softer, we can't tune it to a whisper. We can't reduce the focus to a soft blur, or sharpen it to crystal clarity. We will not control the horizontal. We will not control the vertical. For the next thousand words, sit quietly while we don't control all that you see and hear. You are about to experience the awe and mystery which reaches from the inner mind to... The digital cable less Outer Limits. Because you can't easily hook up an interface box on most boats!

Boating marital issues

Happy new year, be safe!

Christmas day

Christmas day, back to the grind tomorrow.

Barnacle blues and sex

The tiny larva knows it's running out of energy, and its antennae are frantically twitching. It can't feed until it has found a home. A current starts to pull on it. The larva instinctively knows something is wrong, and desperately tries to swim against it. It's sucked into a black abyss, and then the current stops. Larva antennae feel something, and grab it. Cement glands immediately extrude a glue, and the larva is now securely attached by its head.  Now it feeds.

The one eye knows it's dark, but limbs reach out and snatch food. Secreting calcium carbonate, the larva bonds even more firmly to the unwilling host. The current starts again, but it can no longer budge the larva. It has built solid walls around it. The flowing water provides food, and it grows. Now secure, it creates offspring and sets them free to infest the new unwilling host.

The nautical "Twas the Night Before"

Twas the night before Christmas, when all through the boat
Not a creature was stirring, not even a stoat.
The stockings were hung by the nav station with care,
In hopes that St Nicholas soon would be there.

The children were nestled all snug in their berths,
With visions of hardtack, all dancing with mirth.
And mama in her hairnet, and I in my cap,
Had just settled ourselves for a long winter’s nap.

When out on the deck there arose such a clatter,
I sprang from my bunk to see what was the matter,
Away to the port hole I flew like a flash,
Tore open the shutters, and threw up the sash.

The moon on the breast of the calm winter ocean,
Gave the lustre of mid-day to the boat's soft motion,
When, what to my wondering eyes should appear,
But a miniature trawler, and eight tiny key deer.

With a tipsy old driver, so lively and quick,
I knew in a moment it must be St Nick.
More rapid than sea gulls his coursers they came,
And he whistled, and shouted, and called them by name!

"Now Aquaholic! now, Luna Sea! now, Stocks and Blondes!
On, Chum Bucket! On, Ship Face!, and Crossing the Ponds!
To the top of the fo’c’sle! to the top of the gaff!
Now dash away! Dash away! Dash with a laugh"

As canvas sheets that before the wild hurricane flies,
When they meet with an obstacle, mount to the skies.
So up past the mast top the coursers they flew,
With the sleigh full of gear, and St Nicholas too.

And then, in a twinkling, I heard up on my deck,
Prancing and pawing making my topsides a wreck,
As I drew in my head, and was turning around,
Down the dorade box St Nick came with a bound.

He was dressed in foul weather gear, from head to foot,
And his oilskins were salty, wet, worn out and kaput.
A bundle of LORAN's he had flung on his back,
And he looked like an installer, just opening his pack.

His eyes-how they twinkled, his dimples how merry,
His cheeks were like roses, his nose like a cherry.
His bourbon breathed mouth was drawn like a bow,
And the beard of his chin was as pale as fresh snow.

The stump of a pipe he held tight in his teeth,
And the ganga smoke circled his head like a wreath.
He had a broad face and a huge round belly,
That shook as he slurred, and he was so smelly.

He was chubby and plump, a right jolly old elf,
And I laughed when I saw him, in spite of myself!
A wink of his eye and a belch from his head,
Soon gave me to know I had something to dread.

He spoke not a word, but went straight to his work,
And filled all the stockings, then turned with a jerk.
And laying his third finger aside of his nose,
And giving a nod, up the dorade box he rose!

He sprang to his trawler, to his team gave a whistle,
And away they all flew like the down of a thistle.
But I heard him mumble, ‘ere he drove out of sight,
"Happy Christmas to all, and to all a good-night!

Exhausted from St. Nick, and concerned instead,

To my berth I stagger for a few hours abed.

Awaking in the morn, I find all of my rum gone,

And a pile of manure on the deck from a fawn.

I hope you were good, l seemed to have gotten nothing but anthracite.

Merry Christmas, and boat safely from the Installer and family.

Sonic repair

"The boats making a real loud buzzing noise, and I can't reach the owner. Can you take a quick look at it, and what should I do?", asked the dock master. "Sure, give me a half hour to get there, and let's show an abundance of caution, and please turn off the shore power breaker."

Software management woes

If boat builders built airplanes, they would be falling out of the sky faster then we could scurry around and pick up the wreckage and luggage. Somehow lessons that have been learned by most manufacturers of complex items, have been left behind by all too many boat builders. Oops, Mr. Grunion, we left our lessons learned on the train station platform. Never mind Bob. Don't worry. The buyers don't pay any attention to that documentation stuff when they write the check for the boat, and when the warranty expires, it's not our problem anymore.

Experimenting with Bob the navigator

I'm feeling not so smart. By that I mean not as smart as a 16 year old kid. I know a lot, but it has become apparent that being intuitive in today's world takes some real effort. I barely survived the changes in Facebook, I do have a Twitter account, but have never tweeted. But today I am a winner, even though I only get a small red ribbon.

After mucking around I have finally gotten a video to work right. I kept reading about embedding videos, and with my tedious Blogger software, it just won't work. There is a little insert video button on my toolbar. But because my Internet connection is slow, it always opened with just a button that said upload video. Had I been a little more patient additional lines would have appeared say from You Tube? My You Tube? My Cam? Phone?...... As I said I should have asked a kid first. So here is belatedly the first appearance  of a properly installed video on MIR.

This little piece is a rainy day experiment. I have been looking for old public domain archival materiels related to boating, with the idea It could be edited for some other more insidious purposes. It's harder that it looks. These excerpts are from a Navy navigation training film circa 1943 titled "Night Piloting.". Out of 17 minutes of excruciatingly tedious and pedantic film, I salvaged just about two minutes.

I was intrigued because it dealt with navigation techniques that are now 70 years old, but still applicable today, sort of. It didn't turn out exactly like I thought it might, but this is often the way a lot of my projects end up. I had footage, I arranged it into an order, and then made up the dialog. It ended up being a oddly twisted version of a morality play. So no Oscar, but a lot of education in editing, and locating the material.

Here is the link to the original "Night Piloting"

Want to see just a bit of the public domain material that is available, try here. Three million people a day visit this site.

Neolithic yachting

Boat nice Grob. Like too Ruk. Took many Cro-Magnons to carve from real big tree. They not smart like Neanderthals, but work hard. Boat cost me many clams, but got best stuff.

Look Ruk, fancy thing always point at Polaris so know which way to go. Lodestone box make noise. Cro-Magon man tell me scrat run fast circles inside. Tell loadestone which way boat leans.

The politically incorrect chandlery

Just in time for the holiday season our ship chandlery buyers have been touring the world at great expense to locate new, and interesting products for the truly discriminating boater. We can personally assure you that none of these unique products are available at any other chandlery.

Happy Thanksgiving

We love Thanksgiving in our household. Family gathered, good bourbon, tall tales, and best of all the aromas coming from the galley. But most of all it is the traditions that pass down from generation to generation that are important, and ours is "Potato Volcano." Who needs eviscerated poultry products that take forever to cook when you have abundant mixed meat porcine products surrounding a science project looking potato volcano oozing cheesy and buttery lava down its sides. Just add ketchup gravy, and you have a feast the Pilgrims would have loved. Have a safe and abundant holiday. 

Since you asked Josh, here it is. We have lots of cookbooks, but three are used all of the time. This recipe is from the Culinary Arts Institute book. The other two are Joy of Cooking, and How to Cook Everything. There must be on the order of  4000 recipes in these three books. "Bon Appetit", or is it just "Good Eats"?