There’s a lot of laps around the marks in this group! From left: Skeeter sailors Bill Dale, Tom Hyslop, and Paul Krueger, Renegader Jack Ripp, Skeeter sailor Bill Mattison and Ken Whitehorse. Bottom row, Skeeter sailor Dave Nelson and Renegader Jerry Simon
How fitting that a spring snow storm arrived the same day as our April 27th Four Lakes Ice Yacht Club annual awards dinner, a reminder of the cold weather necessary for ice sailing. Highlights include 4LIYC Commodore Don Anderson’s induction into the 4LIYC Hall of Fame, aka the Honor Roll; an all star line up of seasoned veterans (see photo above) and an acknowledgement of appreciation for Nite class outgoing Commodore, Don Sanford who wore the hat for ten years. All credit for the event goes to Trophy and Banquet Chair, Jori Lenon for bringing everyone together. Thanks to Greg McCormick and John Hayashi for the photos.
Vice Commodore Tim McCormick and Commodore Don Anderson.
Renegade class sailors
Outgoing Nite Commodore Don Sanford, Renegaders Jeff Russell and Jerry Simon.
Dave Nelson must have been telling Ken Whitehorse a good story!
Commodore Don Anderson with the 4LIYC Honor Roll placque
Daniel Hearn and Maureen Bohleber take Nite honors.
At 5:57 a.m. on Wednesday, May 1, Dawn and Daniel Hearn (well, really, mostly Daniel) welcomed into their lives a 7 lb., 10 oz. baby bubble, 58”. It was an difficult labor for Daniel, but he kept pushing through with Dawn never leaving his side (well, really, she was nowhere to be found, not caring much for the smell of epoxy or the massive amounts of dust that are ever-present throughout the process). Women really have it easy when it comes to birthing a bubble. #equality4dudes
The bubble was likely conceived during a wild weekend at the Northwest Regatta. Shortly thereafter, Daniel began to display nesting behavior, surrounding himself with iceboat parts that oddly brought him comfort. Breyer’s Ice Cream observed a sharp increase in consumption in the Madison DMA. And talk about crabby! Dawn figured it was Seasonal Effective Disorder. Nope. The test confirmed it…a bubble in the oven.
If you’re feeling a little hurt, having not received an invitation to the gender reveal party, your pain is unnecessary. The parents are not of the generation that stages such gatherings to create yet another occasion requiring family and friends to bring gifts. Damn Daniel, someone might have brought you the white Vans! https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_LUX70mXcEE Or carbon fiber twill, 6061 aluminum angle or a 67-tooth sprocket. See, the Millennial Generation isn’t lazy. They’re just better at working the system.
To stay up to date, you must start following the happy couple on Instagram. You know, because everyone wants to see more pictures of their stupid dog (do they have a dog?), what they ate for dinner last night, and now every bowel movement of their chubby little bubble.
This was my tenth time in the Gold Cup in the USA. The trails were blazed and everything was supposed to go as planned. But then a series of unfortunate events occurred that severely affected my starting plans. The whole thing seemed improbable.
We (the Polish team) had a few days head start in sending our iceboats to the USA, in case of any unforeseen problems. Our equipment got held up at the Paris airport. Our appeals to the shipping company went unheard. And just when things were looking up, our bad luck continued, as the plane which was supposed to bring our gear three days before the start of the Championships, failed to take off because of a malfunction. Continue reading.
Stopped by McCormick Lumber over my lunch hour Friday to pick up the one additional Sitka board I needed for the two 20 foot chines on the port side of the hull. I was greeted in the parking lot by the Global CEO of the conglomerate, Andy McCormick, who was returning from a high-powered business lunch. He was still sucking Diet Coke through the straw in the Hardee’s cup. I considered Andy a friend, but witnessing that he’s destroying our oceans still using straws, I may have to reconsider. He escorted me to the yard, probably concerned that I would slap as many boards as I could on top of the Swagger Wagon and tear off without paying. I asked him if he could close the overhead door as I searched for the fastest board, as I was a little cold. He asked me if I always wore my wife’s skirt on Fridays?
Saturday morning, thinking my neighbors probably wouldn’t appreciate the sweet howl of my planner in the driveway at 6:30 a.m., I made my way to my office to get the job done in our storage area. Since I don’t have a garage, I’ve sort of commandeered the space. It’s become an ice sailing junkyard; rather appropriate, as the room also harbors our building’s dumpsters. They don’t stink too bad(ly), and it’s a short throw for getting rid of the sawdust. Bonus. I’m probably supposed to put the $10-per-board-foot waste in a bag before depositing it in the non-recyclable dumpster, but we contract with a private service. They’ll pick up anything, unlike the City of Madison that will leave my carts stranded at the curb like a blind date with a nice personality, if they see one leaf poking out of the lid. With the first job of the day complete, back home for breakfast.
Next stop, Nordhaus Boatwerks. Arranged to meet up with Jim to compare different steering systems. After discussing pros and cons, I decided to go with a Renegade style system, but with a wheel (which is not allowed in the Renegade) and extra purchase achieved by attaching blocks to the steering post flanges and dead-ending the lines that go to the steering wheel sprocket back into a bulkhead. Maybe using Spectra rather than cable. I kinda sounds like I know what I’m talking about, right? Well, truth be told, before my remedial session with Professor Nordhaus, I was as clueless and a redneck in a woman’s studies class.
I was also rather uncertain about how I would ultimately attach the decking to the sideboards, so on my way back from church Sunday I gave Jerry Simon a call. It was 10:25 a.m. I was hoping he might be able to stop by my shop in the next week or so. He said, “I can be there by 11:00.” All Jerry needs is an app, and he could be like Uber. Before the eleventh bell faded, the doorbell chimed in and there he was in his well-worn sailing cap, jeans and work boot style shoes. Cheerful as always. I suspect Jerry is on Lombardi time—”if you’re on time, you’re late.” But he probably backed it off a bit for me, seeing as how it was Sunday, and all. And Palm Sunday, no less. Those services go on forever. No need to document with a watch. Every kid squirming in the pew is evidence enough. Of course Jerry didn’t come empty handed. He came bearing gifts of tools. A pneumatic staple gun in a plastic box with every component and staple size precisely labeled. He provided a detailed tutorial that would rival any YouTube sensation, and then showed me how I would put it to work for no-bubble decking and proper scarf joints.
My consultants weekend wouldn’t have been complete without a call to the Heppert Hot Line. All along I’ve thought it was a Call Center in Kingston, but I’m beginning to think the guy on the other end sounds more Minnesotan, than Jamaican. “How in the heck do I get a six foot level to touch three bulk heads on the sides of a curved boat,” I asked. “You don’t,” the guy said, “that’s only by the top rear spine. “Oh,” I replied sheepishly, thinking that maybe I had already sanded a little too much off the small section I had started with. Oh well, may have to shim out that one bulk head some to maintain the smooth curve. He went on to explain something about the flat spine transitioning into compound curves. “Ah…what,” I thought? But for the record, I never took any women’s studies classes. (Photos below of steering in Meade restoration project at Nordhaus Boatwerks. My C-Skeeter steering will be similar).
Daniel Hearn brings home the second most important part of any iceboating program, the trailer and sees the C Skeeter hull emerge from the parts and pieces.
Frosting For Frozen Fun
When I eat birthday cake (never with ice cream, but I love ice cream…I know, weird) my fork surgically targets the cake part first, leaving mostly frosting for a super sweet, sugar-filled finish. Flower? Corner piece? Ah…yeah…both, please.
It was all frosting at the Spaight Street Syndicate last weekend. Picked up my new C-Skeeter hauler in lower Michigan Saturday morning. Great little trailer company willing to sell direct to consumers and build custom quite economically. On the way there, dropped off a DN mast for repair with Bob Rast. Going to a newbie I assisted getting into a good entry level program. Welcome to the fleet, Vince! Had dinner with my oldest daughter in Chicago and spent the night at her place. I did eat meat on Friday during Lent. Since the Lord can walk on water, he’s certainly an ice boater, so I’m counting on him cutting me some slack.
On Sunday, I got to start dry fitting pieces. It’s been pretty much all cake since I started—planning, ordering, cutting, gluing, carboning, bending, sweeping, swearing, apologizing (to my wife for the excess dust; I don’t think she hears me cussing like a longshoreman). But all of a sudden ,“poof,” it looks like a boat! Frosting for frozen fun is good for my psyche.
Damn, I’m one board short! There I go again with my potty mouth. I’ll have to pay a visit to Andy at McCormick Lumber this week. He’s an Irishman…he won’t mind my language.
