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      Abbreviated rules   07/28/2017

      Underdawg did an excellent job of explaining the rules.  Here's the simplified version: Don't insinuate Pedo.  Warning and or timeout for a first offense.  PermaFlick for any subsequent offenses Don't out members.  See above for penalties.  Caveat:  if you have ever used your own real name or personal information here on the forums since, like, ever - it doesn't count and you are fair game. If you see spam posts, report it to the mods.  We do not hang out in every thread 24/7 If you see any of the above, report it to the mods by hitting the Report button in the offending post.   We do not take action for foul language, off-subject content, or abusive behavior unless it escalates to persistent stalking.  There may be times that we might warn someone or flick someone for something particularly egregious.  There is no standard, we will know it when we see it.  If you continually report things that do not fall into rules #1 or 2 above, you may very well get a timeout yourself for annoying the Mods with repeated whining.  Use your best judgement. Warnings, timeouts, suspensions and flicks are arbitrary and capricious.  Deal with it.  Welcome to anarchy.   If you are a newbie, there are unwritten rules to adhere to.  They will be explained to you soon enough.  

Art Vandelay

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About Art Vandelay

  • Rank
    Anarchist
  • Birthday 09/20/1961

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    San Francisco
  1. It's a quality setup 7 have going ... Supposedly link from this page. http://www.rolexsydneyhobart.com/news/2014/day-1/replay-of-the-rolex-sydney-hobart-yacht-race-start/ Sparau, That is a link to the 2014 replay, not the current race...and I've seen that one...and, when you click on it in the US, it says "cannot replay" F___ Yah007!
  2. fixed Woody, shouldn't you be researching the Cougar crash? Where the hell is this Yahoo7 Start? F__me!
  3. are you f__king kidding me!...Where is the race replay!
  4. sabotaged by a Sat Phone company intentionally deactivating during an emergency? Really?
  5. BTW, I'm very happy these folks are safe, some folks just don't understand how the hubby might have missed an opportunity that won't come again....soon, pending insurance and the goodwill of the moral internet folks that send them a check.... So 1000 miles out of Mexico in 15 days. 1700 to go to Nuka Hiva downwind-ish. Wife and children safely with the Navy doctors and they would heli-evac to San Diego if needed, so I'm thinking my kid is ok and in good hands. He's been solo sailing this boat anyway... Now he's got 1700 miles downwind to sail to Nuka Hiva alone, no family? He's thinking yahoo! I mean let's be real. I've sailed to Nuka Hiva and it's amazing. Those of you that have kids and love them very much, and love your wife, still need some time alone....So a month solo on a well provisioned boat, sailing downwind to Polynesia solo? Hell ya! Sign me up! She's happy, she's home having Starbucks and attention, he's happy doing what he loves, sailing.... This is not a hard concept.... Have you never seen Dadholes? It explains a lot, think of the dad here who has 3 kids...would he sail solo to Nuka Hiva? yes he would....might even quit smoking too!
  6. From the interview above of the great hero's that jumped, and stayed with the family on board: "small amount of water...took 3 mins twice a day to pump out...not a issue, they could have brought their boat back to shore..." "no steering problem...boat was fine"
  7. Pacific Crossing – Day 11, March 29, 2014 Monday, March 31, 2014 at 11:34 Two days ago we bingo’ed on the avocadoes. The day before that, the zucchini, and the day before that, the mangoes. Not worried though. We still have plenty of tomatoes, cucumbers, onions, potatoes, and cabbage. The pears are almost gone, but a vast pile o’ apples awaits us. We also have bags of prunes and plenty of canned veggies too. I report this because there is not much else to report. We continue sailing west. The wind finally came back a few days ago and we’ve been making miles ever since. The first few days the wind was accompanied by an incredibly awful sea state. It had each of us in a foul mood. There were tears (on my part). There were bruises (not from each other, geez), but from getting knocked all over the cabin. When I woke up this morning my back muscles were tight from the constant rocking you can’t escape at night, and the way your body responds too it even subconsciously. Lyra and I are having the hardest time sleeping, she because she is so tiny that a single roll of the cabin in one direction could roll her 1.5 times in one direction, and then back the same amount the other way. We finally wedged her baby seat on the port side of the salon table, facing aft, where it couldn’t slide from side to side with the motion of the ocean (isn’t that fun to say?) We tucked pillows in on either side of the front and back of the seat (so it wouldn’t rock aft or forward) and voila! A little reclined lounge chair that has allowed her to sleep like a champ. Cora sleeps just forward of her on the salon cushions, her body amidships to lessen the impact of the rolly seas at night. Eric also sleeps on the salon cushions, just aft of Lyra and her baby recliner, his body generally curled in a giant, masculine comma on the largest cushion around the salon table, or sometimes he extends his legs and sleeps on his back, knees bent, feet resting on the floor, his head lamp and gloves always beside him on the table for a quick wake up if not his watch. I feel a bit like the main character in the Princess and the Pea, or more aptly, the Commoner and the Sea. After trying every conceivable place to sleep, including on my back on the floor amidships, on my belly on the floor amidships, every cushion around the salon table, and forward and aft in the quarter berth, it seems the only way that will let me get anything resembling rest is on my belly, facing aft in the quarter berth. It is the darkest, quietest part of the boat, and the white noise of a nearby Camfrano fan, plus ear plugs, and a strategically placed belly pillow help me from rolling too much. Hull slap awakens me, frantically, sometimes, but other than that, I get the best sleep there, and I use ‘best’ euphemistically. Trust me, you want my blog posts to be boring. The best kind of passages like this are boring. Nothing dramatic, nothing crazy, or dangerous, just plodding along, boring. Everyone safe, healthy, and happy. The boat working, the winds doing their thing to help us. Eric and I look forward to two moments each day, Lyra’s nap, and the kids’ bed time. Lyra’s nap means either I can nap too, or Eric if he needs it more. Or it means we can get stuff done, since Cora doesn’t need constant supervision, or it means we can put Cora in front of a movie in the cabin, and we can go up to the cockpit for adult time. I will let you be the judge of what adult time means. After Lyra’s nap, we try hard not to look at the hours tick by until bed time. I like when it hits 4:00pm because that means it is time to start dinner. In spite of the enormous quantity of snacks and treats we brought along for this crossing (nothing like sugar or salt to lift the spirits!), Eric and I have both lost weight. Neither of us are complaining. The sheer amount of calories expended to create each meal and each snack, every day, is impressive. Every time we prepare food it is an acrobatic juggling act of fighting against waves, of keeping food and utensils from flying, from cooking food, doing dishes, and making sure Lyra doesn’t take a tumble, and that is just making the food. By the time the meal is prepared and we are all assembled in the cockpit, Lyra in her tiny high chair, stripped down bare, and the rest of us up there, with all our plates, utensils, cloth wipes, etc, well, by then it is 5:00pm and dinner starts! And by 5:45 or so, I’m cleaning off Lyra, Eric is doing dishes and managing Cora’s bedtime routine, and then, by six, blessed, o’clock, it is time to get the girls in bed. Thirty minutes of bottles, stories, and books, and another thirty of the girls playing around, giggling, and being told to go to sleep, and by 7:00pm they are asleep. You see, if we can make it to four o’clock each day, we’ve made it through another daytime in this passage. The girls start off the evening sleeping in their quarter berth, and when Eric and I are ready to pass out, generally around 10pm, we move the girls out to their positions around the salon table and so begins the passing of hours at watch until the girls wake up again, usually around 6:45am and we do.it.all.again. Like I said, boring. Exhausting, draining, repetitive. I am dreaming of long runs, my back soaked from the sweat and exertion, my feet curving around the shape of sand on the beach I’m running on. I’m dreaming of sweet coconut water. I’m dreaming of French baguettes. I’m dreaming of family hikes up scenic trails. Day 11 done. I think I can. I think I can. I think I can.
  8. Day 6 gets interesting... Pacific Crossing – Day 6, March 25, 2014Wednesday, March 26, 2014 at 10:05 Six days at sea. In six days I can’t possibly describe the range of emotions I have felt so far: anger, joy, sickness, exhaustion, exhilaration, wonder, awe, contentment, peace. When we were backing out of our slip in La Cruz, we four stood in the cockpit waving goodbye to friends. Cora shook her head and furled her eyebrows, sighing, “I’m going to miss Sacha.” “I’m sure he’ll miss you too, buddy. You’ll see him again.” “I’m going to miss Sacha so much. And Diego. And Michelle (Michelle Williams, if you are reading this!) I hope see Appa out there when we are crossing the ocean too. I like them. They are my best friends.” The kid just melts me. Today at lunch, she bit into a pickle and did the same thing, a deep, resonant sigh, and then, “I miss Sacha. And I miss Colin, too. He is my friend.” And then she perked up and grabbed her tuna melt. “But I like this trip mommy, I like it a lot.” “Well, that’s good, because we have a long way to go still.” Lyra is absolutely the most challenging part of the trip. And Lyra, if you are reading this someday, know that we don’t mean you were a “bad baby,” or anything of the sort. You’re a wonderfully active, happy, ingenuitive (ßis that an actual word?) child. You are vocal, and curious, and BUSY, just as you should be. WE are the nutballs who decided to set to sea with you. Trust me, we have no one else to blame for bringing a 13 month old to sea than ourselves. I keep telling myself that Bora Bora will be worth it, worth what I’m now calling ‘extreme parenting.’ Getting email messages from friends and family who have our boat email is a daily treat. Please, if you have that email, write to say hello anytime! I wish I could go for a long walk. Why haven’t they invented shoes that would let you walk on water? Like snowshoes, but for the ocean? Could someone get on that? It has got to be doable. I’d even settle for a giant hamster ball at the moment. Bobbing around while I ran my pants off would be amazing. Oh, work out endorphins, I miss you. This random blog post has been brought to you by a 34 year old woman floating across the ocean with her husband and two adorable kids, somewhere near 16 degrees 49.942N and 100 degrees 46.768W. PS – Sturgeron FTW, periods FTL
  9. Her Day 4 Blog: Pacific Crossing – Day 4, March 23, 2014Monday, March 24, 2014 at 7:05 Today started out shitty too. It is so hard to keep a positive outlook at sea when you feel awful. I was hoping that by day four my nausea would have subsided (and NO, I’m not pregnant, so stop wondering that now J My options were to take Bonine, feel sleepy, and have an awful, dry mouth, but at least the nausea would subside, or take nothing and feel sleepy and nauseous. It was a crappy choice. And then Eric suggested Sturgeon. Hallelujah! We both had forgotten we had a box on board. I only took 1/5 of a pill as an entire pill is strong enough to knock out a horse or a chimp or something. Within 45 minutes my entire outlook improved. By the end of the day I made dinner, cleaned up the interior cabin, and was able to actually read without feeling even more seasick. This.is.awesome. We aren’t sure when to take another dose (the info isn’t included on the medication), but at 8:00pm tonight we’ll be checking in with the nightly SSB radio net and will ask fellow mariners on there. I’m certain someone will know. Basically, if I don’t feel well, I HATE sailing. If I feel well, it’s pretty great. Still tough, but I actually find many things about it enjoyable. Here’s to feeling well. Lyra – within a day’s time she has mastered climbing up onto the salon cushions and running amok in an area that had been previously out of reach. Dang it. Un-paused (ß is that a word?) by her latest feat, she has now re-taken to climbing the companionway stairs. She is unstoppable and her dauntlessness is both awe-inspiring and relentless. Cora – there was about a 30 minute window of very calm seas and light wind today. Cora noticed immediately and began racing and leaping up and down the main hallway. Back and forth, over and over, running and leaping as high and as fast as she could. Lyra and I cheered her on. Spend all that energy, kid. Yell, and holler, hoot and jump. Eric – The man has been jonesing to fish. Between getting his groove with sail configurations, a seasick wife, and daily chores on a boat with two kids, he hasn’t been able to, until today. I felt better, and we were in the perfect conditions to toss a line behind the stern. He didn’t catch anything but just getting out his fishing gear made him jauntier. Me – We all took showers today. We have no pressurized water on board (so no hot water either, other than what we heat on the stove.) We use a camping solar shower and string it from the boom when it is over the cockpit, then we shower al fresco in the cockpit. The whole scene felt very Laura Ingalls, as we bathed first the girls, and then me, and lastly Eric made-do with the small amount of warm water left. Eric held the bag from swinging wildly as I bathed the girls, and then as I bathed myself, Eric genteelly looked out to sea, portside. We may share almost everything, but it is nice to have some privacy every once in a while. While shaving, my teeth chattered as a Pacific breeze danced around the dodger and I apologized to Eric, “Sorry, but you’re just gonna get what you get with this shaving job. Hard to get my legs smooth when I have goose bumps.” “Charlotte, I think you are the only woman to shower outdoors in the middle of the Pacific Ocean and shave her legs, much less worry about the quality of the shave.” “You think so?” I scrunched up my eyebrows and rinsed my razor in the pitcher I also use for blending food with my food processor wand. “Nah, I bet plenty of other women have too.” “I doubt it,” Eric responded, still looking out to sea. I thought about the 2,000+ amazing women I know from Women Who Sail (www.facebook.com/groups/WomenWhoSail/) and shook my head, “No, I’m definitely not the only one.” ----- Before dinner we were all happily ensconced in the cockpit and Cora asked to play a game. Eric suggested the word-association game, a game we both love to play on road trips to pass the time. It’s a little different when you play with a three year old. It sounds like this: Charlotte: Mujahedeen Eric: Operation Desert Fox Cora: Cake Charlotte: Anorexia Eric: Bulimia Cora: Wind vane Charlotte: Africa Eric: Racism Cora: Ice cream We would all bust up laughing when it came to Cora’s response (good-naturedly of course); even little Lyra laughed hysterically when we all did. It was pretty awesome to get a glimpse of what it will be like to hang out with Cora as she gets older and can participate in more intellectually challenging games with us.
  10. From his blog: day ... 4?Sunday, March 23, 2014 at 3:58 I think it's day 4 now? We're still running a somewhat normal configuration of a single reefed main, staysail, and yankee with decent results. During the daylight hours the wind tends to freshen a bit. At night we're seeing around 8 knots, and it pipes up to maybe 15-20 during the middle of the afternoon. Night time boat speeds are hovering around 5.5, daytime is more like 6.5. We've bumped 8 knots a few times, and a few days ago we bobbed like a cork at 0.0. I'm still trying to make sure we make a lot of westerly progress. That's not really that hard to do, but it does put the boat on a beam reach which for full grown adults isn't a problem but for a one year old it's a little... active. At night when everyone is in bed, I sneak around and trim all the sails in a little tighter and put us back on a close reach. The motion is lumpy but people are sleeping so I get away with it. Once everyone is awake I'll widen back up again to a broad reach for the comfort factor. The psychology of this trip has been rough. I read about everyone else's Pacific crossings: watching movies, reading books, fishing, etc. On Rebel Heart from the minute the girls are awake we're in extreme parenting mode with a couple of intervals where it calms down a bit during naps or digitally enhanced entertainmnet. We've finally started reading about the islands from Polynesia to Tonga that we're planning on checking out: it's been a boost to our spirits to realize that we're not just crossing 3,000 miles of water for shits and grins. There is indeed, hopefully, a warm light at the end of the tunnel that involves a pleasant anchorage and some type of rum-based beverage.
  11. From her blog day 3 outbound... Pacific Crossing – Day 3, March 22, 2014Monday, March 24, 2014 at 7:01 As of about noon today the only thing I planned on writing for this entry was: This blows. But, I’m feeling a bit better by the time of writing this evening. A number of things converged by noon, namely my period starting four days early, my still feeling nauseous if I went anywhere forward of the galley, and the fact that the angle of sail was such that no one could walk along the cabin (much less the cockpit) without hanging on for dear life to any hand hold on starboard, or being flung where’re-you-may-land to port. This meant that we had to manually assist the kids in moving about the cabin. Lyra basically wants to move all the time, and she doesn’t care at all that her world is askew. And so, I was crawling along beside her, back and forth, back and forth, from the quarter berth stairs that she likes to climb about five or six times, then forward to the mast post (where I feel sick), then around to the salon cushion that she has been trying to climb up since she could stand (she finally achieved it today, Lord save us all.) I was not happy. I felt sick. I felt like an automaton, existing only for the survival of my children, and yes, OF COURSE, I’m here for the survival of my children, but my god, I just needed-to-change-my-pad, wash-my-hands, eat-some-chocolate, and BREATHE for one goddamn second without having to worry about the kids. And so. And so, we got Cora watching a movie, and Eric entertaining Lyra, and I crawled into the quarter berth, clutched my abdomen, and tried to sleep. I had stress dreams about my face breaking out in boils, and the girls’ faces too, and then there was no way to fix it, and I woke up and stumbled out of the berth and asked Eric point blank, “How long would it take you to sail around the world yourself?” “I don’t know. Figure a month from here, a month from there, if I went non-stop, maybe six months? Eight months? Who knows? Why?” “I’m just wondering if you could sail around the world, and I could take the girls and fly to my sister’s and wait it out there. Realistically, how long?” And Eric gently set Lyra down, placing her against a port-side bulkhead so she wouldn’t go flying, and responded, “You know, I can change the sail configuration a bit.” “What? I had no idea.” I’m such a noob to sailing long distances. “Yeah…just give me a sec.” And I crumpled to floor next to Lyra and tried to convince my stomach that I wasn’t nauseous. A few minutes later, Eric popped into view from the companionway. “Is that better?” And believe it or not, it was. I nodded, disbelieving. “Hold on, one more adjustment.” Within a minute or two things were so much more bearable. I’m sure Eric can/will write a post explaining what he did to change things around. I know in layperson’s terms he had basically been trying to get us as due west as possible to avoid the coastal eddy effect that had been dragging us southward and he had us on a beat, which is always a pain in the neck to experience. Sailing “on a beat” means sailing into the wind, and there is an expression that explains that “gentlemen don’t sail to windward” and crikey, I can see why. Awful stuff. Things improved so much that within a few hours we were all enjoying time in the cockpit and Eric and I were having long discussions about our future. Our sailing future I mean. Our sailing future with children, and this boat. Sailing across oceans is a great venue for discussing upcoming adventures. The only thing we were missing was Wikipedia so we could research things we were wondering about. Eric made dinner. Eric fixed the awful sailing situation. And we both talked about life once we got to New Zealand. The day officially improved from absolute fail to passing.
  12. Looks like this might work out ok because of the great work of the Air National Guard from the Bay Area....going a thousand miles offshore of Mexico to rescue a sick child (who was diagnosed with having salmonella 10 days before leaving on this passage, along with her mother!). http://www.nbcsandiego.com/news/local/SD-Calif-National-Guard-to-Rescue-San-Diego-Family-With-Sick-Girl-1-253892281.html But the blog from the mother's and the father’s perspective says a lot... A must read... Her view:http://www.therebelheart.com/charlottes-blog/ She is wacked out of her element, with a one year old and a 3 year old on a passage from Mexico to the South Pacific...and from her blog has no clue what happens on deck....go back to the start of the passage, day one and read on...wow His view: http://www.therebelheart.com/blog/ From his blog, he is basically a solo sailor on deck, who does the dishes, and has no idea his wife is melting down...quite a read from both of there pov
  13. Hey Jim, Congrats on the Windseeker GP26 launch, boat looks great. So how about an update on the little sister?
  14. And why would someone who lives there, keep buying the same house from their own trust? http://sf.blockshopp...046/224_filbert
  15. WA? What are your plans for this boat, JD? Taking it out of the container today - hopefully not to much repair work to do (it was a very snug fit). And then I have to finish the keel/rudder/rig and go sailing. Jim, Any updates? Been a little busy . . . Looks like you have! Is this in Washington or Hawaii? Can you give a few details on this build?