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Stories & Articles
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Written by Mike Marks
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Friday, 06 June 2008 |
 Landing at Omaha Beach, morning of June 6, 1944. Robert F Sargent photo
Order
of the Day
"Soldiers, Sailors and Airmen of the Allied Expeditionary Forces:
You are about to embark upon the Great Crusade, toward which we have
striven these many months. The eyes of the world are upon you. The
hopes and prayers of liberty-loving people everywhere march with you.
In company with our brave Allies and brothers-in-arms on other Fronts
you will bring about the destruction of the German war machine, the
elimination of Nazi tyranny over oppressed peoples of Europe, and
security for ourselves in a free world.
Your task will not be an easy one. Your enemy is well trained, well
equipped and battle-hardened. He will fight savagely.
But this is the year 1944. Much has happened since the Nazi triumphs of
1940-41. The United Nations have inflicted upon the Germans great
defeats, in open battle, man-to-man. Our air offensive has seriously
reduced their strength in the air and their capacity to wage war on the
ground. Our Home Fronts have given us an overwhelming superiority in
weapons and munitions of war, and placed at our disposal great reserves
of trained fighting men. The tide has turned. The free men of the world
are marching together to victory.
I have full confidence in your courage, devotion to duty, and skill in
battle. We will accept nothing less than full victory.
Good Luck! And let us all beseech the blessing of Almighty God upon
this great and noble undertaking."
General Dwight D Eisenhower
 Supplies landed a few days after June 6. USCG image. |
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Last Updated ( Friday, 06 June 2008 )
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Stories & Articles
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Written by Mike Marks
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Saturday, 03 May 2008 |
Today's
NY Times has a nice long story on surfing
in Peru by Julia Chaplin. One of the breaks she writes about
is named Kon Tiki, "which offers untamed waves so massive that it takes
a strong arm even to paddle out to it." Read Julia's fine article if
you want to know about surfing in Peru (the surfing is great).
The rest of this blog is about the raft and
expedition that the break Kon Tiki is named after. In
1947 the Norwegian writer and explorer Thor Heyerdahl set out to prove
that the islands of the South Pacific were settled by people
from South America. Heyerdahl believed that prior to the arrival of
Spanish Conquistadors, groups of people from South America set out on
huge balsa log rafts and sailed 4,000 miles across the Pacific to
Polynesia. His belief was founded on the similarity of
statues he saw on Easter Island, on the names South Pacific Islanders
used for their gods and other observations. Kon-Tiki is an old name for
the sun god. Heyerdahl said he would prove that ancient peoples had
sailed rafts to Polynesia by doing it himself, starting from Peru and using the same materials
that would have been available circa 1450 AD. He
named his raft and expedition Kon-Tiki
The main body of the Kon-Tiki was made from nine balsa tree
trunks up to 45 feet long and 2 feet in diameter. The logs
were lashed together with hemp
ropes. Cross-pieces of balsa logs 18' long and 1' in
diameter were lashed crosswise to give lateral support. Pine
splashboards were added to the bow, and pine boards were wedged between
the balsa logs and used as centerboards.
The main mast was an A-frame made of heavy mangrove wood that
stood 29 feet high. There was a
bamboo cabin with a roof of thatched banana leaves.
The rudder was a 19' steering oar and the main sail was a 15'
X 18' rectangle made of cotton. No metal was used in
construction.
All of the experienced mariners who saw the raft predicted that it
would break apart and that Heyerdahl and his crew of 5 would
die. In the event, the men sailed Kon Tiki for 101 days
across 4,300 miles of open ocean and made a "successful" landfall (in that they
all survived being thrown with the raft onto a shallow reef
by overhead waves) at Raroia in the Tuamotu Islands.
The raft was salvaged and is now on display in the
Kon-Tiki museum in Oslo.
Once you get into the voyage itself Heyerdahl's book, Kon-Tiki, is a
great read. One of the interesting points he makes is that
the deck of the raft was just barely above the water's surface so that
he and the crew regularly viewed fish swimming above them as
they dipped below the swells.
In 1970 Heyerdahl embarked on another expedition. This one
set out to prove that the ancient Egyptians could have crossed the
Atlantic in boats made from papyrus reeds. Read more about Thor
Heyerdahl and the Ra Expeditions
Did Heyerdahl's voyage succeeed at proving his theory about
who settled the South Pacific? No. But this does not diminish
the accomplishment of his voyage. Here's the Wikipedia entry
on Kon
Tiki
In 2006 Olav Heyerdahl re-enacted ihis grandfather's voyage
from Peru to the South Pacific on a balsa raft named Tangaroa.
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Last Updated ( Tuesday, 13 May 2008 )
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Stories & Articles
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Written by Mike Marks
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Wednesday, 12 September 2007 |
Menemsha or Bust
by Mike Marks
Summary: In July 2007 the
Marks
Family, middle aged parents with girls ages 4 and 10, take a 6 day
cruise to Hyannis, Oak Bluffs, Menemsha and
Falmouth on their 25' sailboat. They brave heavy fog, 3' chop, a
nervous night at anchor and a questionable motel. They lead a successful rescue
mission and perform a good deed that is punished.
 Menemsha Harbor
As we load up the
Flying Fish in Saquatucket Harbor there are wisps of
moisture in the sunshine. Our goal today is Cotuit but
we’re getting a late start. Jon, an old friend,
sees us and stops by with a question: “Do you have
a radar reflector?” It was on the list but
didn’t make it into my shopping basket at West Marine.
“No,” I answer with embarrassment. “I can
lend you one,” he offers. With confidence
in the borrowed radar reflector (immediately set aloft) and a
new Garmin 76cSx GPS unit we
set
off. Ginger notes that no other boats are out.
“It’s a summer day on Cape Cod. How come
we’re not seeing anyone?”
As the afternoon wears on the wisps of moisture coalesce into a dense
fog. The sun vanishes and the wind and seas build. It's bumpy
and 4-year old Abby feels seasick. Ginger's nervous. With
Cotuit
still 2 hours away I suggest spending the night at Hyannisport. Ginger
agrees. Visibility is 1/8 mile now. As we pass the
main channel to Hyannis a ferry heading for Vineyard Haven appears out
of the fog. The ferry has slowed down for us. Thank you Jon, thank you
radar reflector. I make
a mental note that I should have called out on channel 16 to announce
that we were crossing the channel.
The fog becomes heavy, wet and cold. Visibility drops to 100
yards. As we duck behind the Hyannisport breakwater the
anemometer shows the wind gusting to 20. We anchor among the moored
boats and listen to the marine forecast.
I’d been checking that forecast three times a day for the
past two weeks. I checked it this morning but not again before we set
off. Having already delayed this trip by a
week in the hope of a good weather window I was convinced that
we'd found one. Having made the decision to go, having bought
the food and loaded up the boat, I wasn't going to be easily dissauded
from setting out. Now it’s clear that the weather window
I’d counted on had closed. The forecast is for intermittent
thunderstorms tonight and tomorrow. In the cabin
lit by oil lamp Ginger and I stare at each other. Her
expression says “get me off this boat
NOW.” I’m thinking, “this
isn’t good but a thunderstorm on top of us would make things
a whole lot worse.” The kids are wondering
what’s up.
We start our dinner routine and the mood
lightens. The boat
is rocking and the sausages roll on the new Magma grill. The Flying
Fish is a 1983 O’Day 25 sloop with a keel/centerboard and a
5hp Yanmar diesel inboard. I pulled the centerboard up when
we anchored. I let it down again to lessen the
rolling. The boat rocks less, but now there‘s a
clunking sound, a not unpleasant bass metronome to me, a portent of
doom to Ginger, that will sound through the night.
The crew is happy when we go to bed. I read books to the
girls in the forward cabin and then settle down with Ginger on the
slide-out double berth in the main cabin. I wake up once in the middle
of the night, note that we‘re rolling a fair amount, that
Ginger is tossing and turning and then fall asleep again. No worries. I
sleep
well. Ginger sleeps badly, fearing that she'll be rolled onto
the cabin sole and that the girls will wake up.
At 6am we listen to the forecast: wind gusting to 25, fog and
intermittent thunderstorms. We decide to go to Hyannis
Marina. We’ll figure out what to do next once we
get there. Ginger’s thinking about taking a taxi home to
Orleans and abandoning our trip. I plot a course from buoy to buoy
using the Garmin. Visibility is approx 200 yards when we set off but
improves as we enter the harbor. As we get deeper into Lewis Bay the
water flattens out and visibility increases to over a mile. Ahhh.
That’s a relief. Ginger’s happier. The girls wake
up and look around.
Hyannis Marina is well protected and even a little picturesque. When we
arrive there are two motor yachts in the 100’+
range. Each yacht has its own staff dedicated to shining and
polishing every inch of the vessel. No one is at the office at 7am so
we tie up at an appropriately sized empty slip. Later in the morning we
are moved to another slip, beside an Alden 54’ yawl named
“Angel”.
The bathrooms are clean. There’s a swimming pool and the sun
is shining brightly! The marina is well protected from the wind. The
pool water isn’t especially warm so the kids and I put on
shorty wetsuits and thoroughly enjoy it. We look a little silly in our
wetsuits so I note with satisfaction that other people get out of the
pool
after 5 minutes while we stay in for over an hour.
Ginger continues to muse about bailing on the trip and heading home. I
keep my mouth shut. The effort to put this little trip together has
been substantial but I don’t want to continue unless
we’re all up for going on. Ten year old Jane puts forward
arguments for continuing. She’s not in love with
sailing but she’s dedicated to the concept of sailing our own
boat to Martha’s Vineyard.
One of the best things about our stay in Hyannis is meeting John
Cleverwell who professionally sails the 54’ Angel on behalf
of a venture capitalist. John is deeply knowledgeable
about sailing and
tells us a scary story with a good lesson - bad accidents usually
happen in calm conditions when your guard is down.
Morning comes and the wind is a gentle 8 mph from the north. Thoughts
of a taxi are forgotten. While Abby mopes, Ginger and Jane wave goodbye
to John as he departs single handed for Newport. It’s a
perfect day to cross to Martha‘s Vineyard. The tide is
favorable and gives us an extra 1-2 knots. The crossing to Oak Bluffs
is smooth and pleasant.
Oak
Bluffs Marina has 80 slips and 45 moorings with plenty of
space for transients. We changed our mid-July reservation two times
without any problem. The slips are not floating docks but rather end
ties to a sea wall and pilings. Having never tied up this way (and
without Chapman to consult) I look at
the boats around me and copy them. Like almost everyone else, we tie
stern in for easier access to the shore. I allow enough slack
for the tide but not so much that we’ll bang into our
neighbors. The sea wall is topped by a popular promenade and boaters in
neighboring slips spill out onto it, mixing happily with
other tourists. Everyone is friendly and there’s a low-key
party vibe. But it’s hot and there‘s little breeze.
I’m glad to have made reservations at the Vineyard
Harbor Motel.
“This place is a dump,“ Ginger says upon setting
foot into our room. It’s an accurate assessment but
I’m impressed with the picture window and it’s five
star view of the beach and harbor. The bathroom is a little
dank (Ginger says, “a little??”) and the kitchen
area probably wouldn’t pass a health inspection,
“but look at that view!” I say. I chose the hotel
of course. Ginger continues to rag on the place.
Maybe if we’d spent a second night at anchor as planned
she’d feel differently - a second night without a hot shower
or flush toilet might enable her to better appreciate the
motel’s merits. In any case I’m maxxed
out. The stress of planning the trip, getting the boat ready,
buying the gear and provisions, loading the boat, navigating in fog,
worrying whether Ginger and the kids are miserable, stressed
from safety concerns, mad at myself for mistakes I’d made,
all of it comes to a head now. Explosive gasses are building
inside me. I vent. “Ginger, you’ve got to stop.
I’ve broken my butt getting ready for this trip and getting
us here. The kids are happy. We’re all healthy. The sheets
are clean. I… don’t… want…
to… hear it… right…
now. I’m done.” I need some alone time
with a glass of whisky and a cigar.
At $180 a night in peak season, the Vineyard Harbor Motel is one of the
lowest cost places to spend a night on Martha’s Vineyard.
Surely it’s the lowest cost waterfront room. The courtyard is
as beautiful in real life as it is online. Comments on Tripadvisor had
it right. This place is a good value but it can’t be
classified as luxury. The sheets are clean. The carpets are not. Each
room is privately owned and has a different feel. Ours is on the ground
floor next to the beach. The overloaded hotel manager has a Jekel/Hyde
thing going on. Grouchy during work hours when he’s
understaffed and overwhelmed, he’s positively sweet once his
official day ends and he can sit down, look at the view and smoke a
cigarette. Smoking is not allowed in the rooms at the Harbor
View but there are provisions for tobacco addicts and aficionados
outside.
By the time we get our act together for dinner it’s pushing
9pm. There aren’t many choices in the neighborhood at that
hour. Fortunately, Mediterranean Restaurant is open
just a few doors away. The food is fine, but what’s was
striking is the warmth of the staff. Even though we’re the
last guests of the evening there isn’t a trace of negative
attitude and the kids are made to feel entirely welcome. We relax.
The following day I wake up early, leave the girls sleeping in the room
and walk three miles to Oak Bluffs Marina. The plan is to inflate the
new 9.5’ Baltik dinghy,
motor around East Chop and land at the Vineyard Harbor
Motel’s beach in time for breakfast. The Baltik is still in
the bag it arrived in from Afforbdable Inflatables and I wonder if
things will go smoothly. I had wanted to test
inflating it
and setting it up before heading out but, like so many things, ran out
of time. In the event, the Baltik inflates and assembles easily on
Flying Fish’s small foredeck. I’m
impressed. Next I mount the 3.5hp Tohatsu I bought used just
before the trip. It too is untested. Before setting
off for the motel I do a test run in the harbor. There’s a
decent breeze blowing offshore but Oak Bluffs Marina is nicely
protected. The motor cuts out on me again, again and again.
Fortunately, the Baltik rows beautifully, nearly as well as a
fiberglass or wood dinghy. Sweat is dripping from my brow. I row back
to the Flying Fish and call Steve, my good friend, business partner,
and mechanic cum laude. “Did you open the air valve on the
gas tank?” Now things work better.
I load up bagels, milk and cereal and set off, hugging the shore just
in case the motor cuts out again. There’s a
2’ chop, the wind is blowing 15-20 and power boats are
throwing up sizeable wakes as they speed by. The Baltik handles all of
it beautifully, the Tohatsu moving us along at 10 mph. Then, just as I
enter Vineyard Haven Harbor, the motor cuts out. Not my fault this
time. Later I learn there’s some blockage in the fuel filter.
I row to a private pier and tie up until I get the motor going
again. It runs all the way to the motel’s beach.
That’s a relief. My original concept was that our entire trip
would be amphibious, that all of us would arrive at the Vineyard Harbor
Motel by dinghy. I’m glad to have demonstrated the
concept alone, without subjecting the entire family to it.
The morning is spent with the girls playing on the beach. In the
afternoon we all get into the dinghy and motor under the bridge into
Lagoon Pond. Heading west we parallel the road and land at a beach at
the end of the pond. It’s taken us 30 minutes. Upon
exploring the small shopping center off the beach we realize
we’re almost directly across the street from the Vineyard
Harbor Motel. The girls look for treasures on the beach while I walk to
the mini-mart and buy ice cream bars. There’s a wonderful
fish market nearby that sells sushi. But the time
isn’t right for that. Sweet teeth sated, we pile back into
the Baltik and motor back around to the Vineyard Harbor
Motel. The return trip proceeds without incident, except...
the motor cuts out again and again and again. What's up? Air
valve is ok. Fuel line is ok. Aha! The engine is
out of gas. We have fuel with us. Gas tank refilled the motor runs fine
all the way back.
That night we go to dinner at Bangkok Thai Cuisine in Oak
Bluffs. There’s no wait to get in and the food is
great. When we leave the restaurant the Oak Bluffs party
scene
is in full swing. It’s not really right for 4 and 10 year
olds but Jane and Abby think the activity is great fun. We go
looking for ice cream and end up getting frozen cream with sugar at a
place that’s not worth naming. It satisfies the
girls.
On Sunday morning we head for Menemsha Pond, timing it so that the tide
is with us. Not that there’s much choice.
Since our typical cruising speed is 5 kts, getting to Menemsha, let
alone into the pond would be virtually impossible for us against the
tide. In the early afternoon we drop anchor off a small
private beach at the south end of the Pond. There are a few
families there and kids are playing. We take the dinghy to
the beach and ask if it’s ok for us to come ashore.
We’re given permission and an offer to use an empty
mooring. Nice! Ginger stays with the girls while I
go back to move the boat onto the mooring.
The task is simple. Pull up the anchor and move 200 feet to a mooring.
There’s a 10 knot breeze and no current to speak of. Piece of
cake. I have the dingy towing behind me with twenty feet of line out.
With the wind I float down to the mooring, motor in neutral and almost
pick it up. I miss it and turn the motor into reverse. I get the
mooring just as the motor cuts out on its own. That’s not
right and I  know immediately what has
happened. The tow rope
is now tangled in the prop. I keep a mask, snorkel and fins on the
boat just for situations like this. I swim under the boat
and cut the line free. The operation is actually pretty fun.
It feels good to be prepared… even if the problem was one
I’d created myself.
We spend a nice night at the mooring (It turns out that
you’re not supposed to overnight on your boat in the pond).
In the morning we listen to the weather forecast. The wind
will be blowing 25+. Our plan had been to head for Falmouth but
we’re not going across the sound today. It would be nice to
be closer to town. I call Menemsha Harbor and reserve a
mooring there. The harbor is tight so before heading into it I take the
Baltik to scout the situation.
Returning from recon the wind is gusting to 20+ in the pond. I see two
full grown men and large dog sailing in a 12’ open
dinghy. “That’s either gutsy or
stupid,” I think. The guy sailing the boat is having a little
difficulty and I note there’s not much freeboard.
If the boat flips they could be in trouble. There’s
no way to right an open dinghy without a dock, a beach or assistance
from another boat - it fills up with water like a bathtub and
can’t be bailed out. Maybe the guy knows something I
don’t. Maybe the boat has extra flotation. As
I’m pondering the dinghy captain’s skill or
stupidity the boat capsizes and the men and dog go into the water. This
will be interesting. I tie up to the Flying Fish watching
them carefully. It becomes clear they don’t possess
any magic. We get the motor going, free ourselves from the
mooring and head off on a rescue mission.
Menemsha Pond is roughly 1 mile square. The wind is blowing
hard, the tide is flowing out and the capsized boat with the men and
dog are in the middle of the pond. No other boats are out. When we come
along side their swamped boat we see that they don’t have any
life jackets. The jackets were lost when they flipped. One of the guys
takes one from me, but the other refuses. The dog is the bigger
worry. He’s getting tired from swimming. We try
towing them to a mid-pond dock with the Flying Fish but I’m
worried about running aground. I drop the anchor and hop into the
Baltik. We get the dog aboard the inflatable first, then the men come
in, then we bring on the mast, boom and sail. It’s
amazing how well the Baltik handles it all. However, wind,
tide,
swamped boat and 600lbs of men and dog are too much for the 3.5hp
Tohatsu - even though it’s working perfectly at the
moment. A 20’ motor boat comes by, the first boat
other than ours that we’ve seen that morning. The
motor boat takes over the salvage operation while I ferry the dinghy's
captain,
Matt Flanders, to a dock in Nashaquitsa Pond at the southeastern corner
of Menemsha Pond. The ferry service takes ½ an
hour. Matt is thankful and asks what he can do to repay
me. I only ask that he return the borrowed life jacket via
the harbor master in Menemsha* .
Meanwhile Ginger and the kids have been swinging at anchor wondering
what’s up. Did I need to run Matt Flanders all the way back
to where his car was? I suppose not. But it would have been hard to say
“no” in the moment. I should have told
them what was going on before motoring off, although that would have
added another ten minutes to the ferry ride (we’d drifted
pretty far). After discussing shoulda’s and
coulda’s we head off for Menemsha harbor.
It’s amazing how fast the current runs out of the pond.
The wind is foreful and we feel good about our decision to stay as we
swing into the harbor. There are two moorings, each with
boats on them already. The harbormaster has directed us to a
mooring with a shiny 40 foot sloop on it. Hmmm. How
do we tie up in this situation?
I put Ginger on the helm and we motor in circles, one time, two
times, three times, more... The wind is blowing us
around and we
have an audience. “Enjoying your tour of the
harbor?” someone shouts out helpfully. On the third
try we grab the mooring and tie up. Once again, Chapman would
be helpful here. What is the proper way to tie up to a shared
mooring? We put out bumpers along the rail and drop back to
the mast of our mooring partner.
If Wikipedia had an entry for “New England Fishing
Village” Menemsha Harbor is what you would find. It feels
timeless. Commercial fishing boats are tied to a small wooden
wharf piled high with lobster traps and nets. There’s a
Texaco fuel dock, Larsen’s fish market, a shack for the
harbor master, public restrooms with hot showers (bring quarters) and
not much else. A beach on Vineyard Sound abuts the
harbor. There are docks with private boats as well.
We go ashore to play. The official beach is a little rocky and
the wind is kicking up sand. At low tide behind the breakwater
there’s a dinky beach protected from the wind. Abby and I
play
there while Ginger and Jane walk off to explore the town. That evening
I bring fried clams and steamed lobster from Larsen’s
to the
boat via dinghy. That night fish taunt us by jumping all around the
boat.
We trolled for twenty miles from Hyannis to Oak Bluffs without a single
bite. Now we try again, casting into a harbor of jumping fish.
Nothing. It’s all fun. Menemsha Harbor is a special
place.
We leave Menemsha with promises of returning soon. There’s no
wind as we motor for Falmouth Harbor across glassy water. Ginger and
Abby are below and Jane is with me in the cockpit. Two miles
out of Menemsha we pass a deflated Mylar party balloon floating on the
water. I point it out to Jane and say, “maybe we
ought to pick that up.” She agrees, so I turn the
boat around and head back to it. Throttled back to tick-over we
approach the balloon at a slow drift. When the
balloon comes alongside I lean over the rail. The O’Day 25
has the freeboard of a 35 footer, and it's a good reach. The floating
bit of trash is just…
at… the tips… of… my fingers. Just a
little bit further… a little more….I reach one
umph too far, one teensy weensy bit past my balance point and flip into
the water alongside the deflated balloon.
“DADDY!” screams Jane. I’m holding on to
the rail and jib sheet, concerned mostly about the prop. Ginger comes
into the cockpit and puts the motor into neutral. She then lowers the
swim ladder. I get back aboard. Capsizing in dinghies and Hobie cats
excepted, a perfect record of forty years of messing around in boats
without falling in has been spoiled. I reflect on John
Cleverwell's words about bad accidents in calm conditions.
This was funny but it might not have been.
 The remainder of our journey to
Falmouth is unexceptional. We tie up in
the marina, pick up a rental car and drive home to Orleans. Was the
trip a success? Will Ginger and the girls want to take another boat
trip again? I’m afraid to ask. But the truth comes out and
the answer is yes. I grin ear to ear. A couple of weeks later we take a
great two night
trip to Stage Harbor.
*Matt, if you read this
you can get in touch with me at mike@morebeach.com.
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