42nd World Ducks (with bonus footage)

If I had any doubt upon arriving at Mantoloking Yacht Club Friday

morning, that this regatta was going to be a celebration of a bygone,

yet re-energized class of wooden sailboats, I would have been

immediately re-assured by the sight of this old Ford coupe. 

Stop for a second.  Breathe in the air.  Smell the Bayberry bushes

and the faint ocean breeze.  The coffee. The doughnuts. 

The sun-block.  Somebody smells terrible already!  I think

I know exactly who it is. The anticipation of competition.

I've got cottonmouth. I'm so frickin thirsty.  I need to

 go to the bathroom. I check, re-check, and check my

pockets again to make sure my car keys are there

before locking the doors. I feel slightly jittery, like I've

definitely forgotten something. I've been here on these

grounds so, so many times before as a younger person. 

 And often late, under the gun, and in a hurry.

  But today I am merely a bystander.  All I gotta do

is find a boat to go out on and watch the races.

And I am relishing every second of it. Even though

I already want to change my shirt.

My ride, which turned out to be the best possible choice, although

I had only one, was on Peter Kellogg's RIB. This gentleman has 

single-handedly (no pun intended) brought this Duckboat class

back from almost certain extinction.  Please, if you have a few 

minutes, read this great article, for it does him and the Duckboat

far more justice than I could ever.

 

I can't remember if I've ever mentioned Beaton's Boatyard,

which is conveniently located directly west, across the bay

from the Mantoloking Yacht Club.

The spectator boats for the World Ducks are not your garden-

varieties.  You'll probably not see Sea Rays, Bayliners, or Scarabs

scurrying about from mark to mark.  Instead one will see beauties

like Samantha.........

and Suzanne.  A while back, I wondered if the Beaton family was

able to appreciate this boat considering how many long hours Tom

and his workers put in.  Tom is holding up the bow pulpit, by the 

way. They were all smiling when we cruised by.  A good sign.

Hobo is a lapstrake sweetie, and the bimini and personalized

director's chairs close the deal. 

Willow is a unique boat.  I'm not sure what else I could say,

other than I would have been happy on her as well!

Meow, man.  Gracious living.

Nimbus was the RC nonpareil.  My old friend Russ Lucas is a

world-class sailor, and a race organizer of the same caliber.

We enjoyed listening to his officiating, course directions,

and candid commentary on the radio all day long 

Gary Jobson graced us today.  A son of Barnegat Bay, he's become

one of the most recognized figures in sailing world-wide.  Henry

Colie, who was driving the RIB along with Stan Switlik,

lent Gary his gorgeous Duckboat, "Yard Bird" for the day. 

A little adjustment for the President of US Sailing and.......... 

off to the next start.

Someone recently asked for 10 good reasons to come sailing

in New Jersey.  There are 71 in this picture alone.

Russ Manheimer from Hove to off Swan Point had his duck

refurbished at Beaton's over the winter.  His "PC" designation

is an homage to the man who built "Speedwell", Phil Clarke.

Later, Russ took an unscheduled swim after the start.  Good

effort  though, from one of the saltiest people I know.

Who's the winner?

Downwind leg to the finish and he death-rolled.  With sheer

determination, he righted the boat and sailed across the line!

He was bailed out and ready for the next start.

Gary Jobson (M-62) and Glen Dickson (M-8) go to

 the right, right out of the gate and make out like bandits.

Hopefully, my gorgeous Beaton's rowing skiff.  I'll find out

on September 27th.

The long wait for the ramp.  Quick, go get a beer, 

it makes the wait go by faster.

Mine.  Don't touch!

Gary finished a respectable 8th, for an old, 218 pound

guy sailing essentially a kid's boat.

Second last year, local Andy Goetting took top honors.

Please check out Charley Best's blog for many

additional photos of these beautiful sailboats.

This regatta is truly a Barnegat Bay original. 

 I'm honored to have watched it and I feel that I was

a participant as well.  It's a tradition that is stronger

now than it ever was, and as long as I'm still

standing,  I'll happily witness #43 next year. 

For DRJ

Love you Kurt and forever your Dad.

Crystal Ball

Chucky predicts it will be the Dallas Cowboys

and the New Orleans Saints in the NFC Championship

this year.  I respect Jon Gruden and think he's one of

the great personalities in football.  I also respect the New

Orleans Saints for persevering for all those decades of 

ineptitude and finally winning the big one. 

 I hate the f'in Cowboys.  Almost as much as the Eagles. 

I'm sticking with Eli.  He's still such a young boy to me. 

But he's a young boy with a great arm, the ability to get

out of a jam, the desire to succeed, the pedigree of a royal

American football family, and a frickin big-ass ring to 

prove that he's got the balls to pull it off again. 

Tyree's catch may have been lucky, but you got to get

it in the right place for luck to happen.

The winning TD pass to Burress was as calm and cool

as could be.  Those seconds before that catch seemed

to last an eternity to me.

I said to myself when I saw this image live, that this

would not be the last time I saw this guy raising

the Lombardi Trophy.  I'm expecting to see the 

same this February.  I know it's only a game,

but tell that to us at 1:00 on Sunday afternoon. 

Here, take these cottonballs. You're gonna need them. 

Scenes from the Swamps of Jersey

A Giants game is always an event, whether pre or regular-season.

And their faithful come prepared with big appetites and high hopes.

Saturday was no exception.  It's always fun to grab a beer and

walk around the parking lot and check out the fans tailgating.

This kid went the extra mile with the shoulder pads.

He just couldn't miss the golf today.

And now, your starting quarterback, number 69..................69?

Too much beer pong and he won't remember

a single play of the game.  He may not care.

And how old is he anyway?  And the kid to

his left while we're at it?

 VIP Guest.  Probably knows the Rooneys but wanted

to mingle with the little people.  He's got a

"Terrible Towel" for each hand.  There are a ton of

Steeler fans in New Jersey.  And unfortunately they

were waving their towels during a

good portion of the game. 

New Jersey's only and as of yet, unopened indoor skiing slope.

Xanadu, a super-modern, full-blown mega mall was scheduled 

to open this year.  I'm not sure if they've got one tenant yet.

And it's a mega-eyesore. 

My three reasons for being.

Goosebumps.

We didn't play too well today, but that's life.

Actually, it's just a game.

1984

Do you remember this commercial?  What were you doing in January
 of 1984? This may have been THE last ditch attempt at promoting
cassette tapes.  A well-kept LP always sounded better than a brand
new cassette to me. And CDs had been around for a few years
already. Remember the 8-track?  And  shoving a matchbook in the
player to keep it from wobbling?

I'm not worthy

If I were a Native American, my name might be

"Brushes with Greatness". Because every so often, or

not so, depending on the time of year or any other

random reason, I come into contact with some

extremely influential human beings.  Tonight was no

exception.  Paul Muldoon is one of my absolute

favorite customers.  Poet extraordinaire, he is so far

 on another plane than I am it's not funny.  Yet, once 

again, here's a guy that genuinely enjoys a 

down-to-earth conversation with a nobody like me.

He also plays guitar with a band comprised of at

least one other Princeton Professor, among others,

and has headlined at the coffee shop across the

street from us a couple of times.

Apparently, Kesha's got a boat in China!
And I've got a friend in Paul Muldoon.

What do we have here?

It was the best of times,

This very possibly was the most blissful, most happy time of my life. 

Eight years old and Crystal Blue Persuasion was my favorite song

ever.  I can't say it's changed, although several great songs have

come down the pike since then. It reminds me of summer, arguably

my favorite season, and that summer was no different than the

others.  My mom, my brother and I spent every summer

"down the shore",  at my Grandmothers' houses, both

 fortunately located on the water at

different ends of the Metedeconk River, in Bricktown,

N.J.  Dad would come down Friday night, race Saturday

and Sunday, and go back to Jenkintown on Sunday night,

back to the bank every Monday morning.

Days were spent at sailing class at the modest Metedeconk River

Yacht Club, swimming at the Cedarcroft Club Beach, or at the

end of the dock at 829 South Drive.  We messed about in

boats for sure, and there was never nothing to do.  Neither

of those houses are in the family any more,

and I never appreciated them as much as I do now,

when there's not a trace of either.  Don't ever, ever take
anything in life for granted. 

Driving School

What do you do with the apples that fall from the tree?
Not yet ripe to make pie or crisp, they're great for driving
practice.  Field Hockey starts in 3 weeks, and Liv needs
to live up to Big Sis's driving prowess.  Some of them soar,
while others blow apart upon being struck by the stick.
All of them, whole or otherwise, are quickly eaten by our
local herd of deer who cruise through our back yard late
at night.  I'm shocked that there are still figs on the tree!
By the way, this is the worst my back yard grass has ever
been.  We haven't had rain since March, it seems, when
the basement  flooded. 

A Cat's Meow

Last Saturday, we were fortunate to watch some of 

the BBYRA  A Cat race.  These beauties are unique

to the Barnegat Bay and the class has had a 

resurgence over the past two decades.  For a long time,

there were only four on the bay, but there are 12 now. 

I believe Raven was the only un-reefed boat that day

and they seemed perfectly able to keep the boat upright.

Note the massive sail area.

  This was taken during the summer of 2002

on the same downbay racecourse.  Mary Ann, the bay's

oldest A-Cat, was built in 1928.  My Old Man crewed

on her that summer.  He's the fourth from the bow.  It's

definitely the last competitive sailing he did before he

crossed the bar.  That summer, for a number of reasons,

we didn't put our boat in the water, but left it on the

trailer all season long.  Dad drove down from Lancaster

County every Friday night, climbed up a ladder, and

slept in our boat, on the hard, just to be ready

every Saturday to sail on Mary Ann.  

Torch

Vapor

Lightning

Raven, with the tanned shirtless guy who obviously

knows which way to go.  My Dad told me never to

point while racing.  With my arm.

Witch

Starboard tack to cover

Spyder and Witch, farther ahead of Raven than it looks.

Witch blasting to weather.

 At one time,  I was also a human boom vang.

As fate would have it, Witch, Raven, and Spyder

finished one, two, three.

Lotus Rounding the mark

Tamwock bearing off and pounding to the weather mark.

Tamwock, the Ocean County College 

sponsored boat,  rounding  

Could someone do something about the halyard?

Earlier in the day, we raced, as guests, with the Tall Oaks

Yacht Club.  Based out of the Forked River area, these

folks race, cruise, overnight, and just plain enjoy sailing

and each others' company.  No clubhouse, no bar,

nothing fancy.  Perfect.  Afterward was a pizza party

and as always, a good time was had by all.

Beans, Beans, Good for the heart

I'm thinking these berries are from NJ.

I'm feeling comfortable with the mission statement.

Commodore Bill with the 50/50 tickets.  Treasurer

Paul to the right looks on.  Good Sportsmanship

prevailed as the winner rolled the winnings back into

the club.  Admirable.    

Haydens' Hound

Forked River sunset.

Thanks to Cathie for all of the great shots.

You're hired!