Some folks lounge around to relax. Others immerse themselves in a trashy novel, ignoring those around them in favor of purple prose and questionable cover art. Others make small talk. None of that works for me. I can’t really read with other people around, and staring off into space doesn’t work.
I recently had a job to do onboard Betty Jane that seemed virtually impossible. There are a couple of seven-foot-long cosmetic trim pieces over each of her fuel tanks and I needed to remove each of them so I could get at and replace the hose clamps on the fuel fills.
I tested out the Viking 55 yesterday down in New Gretna, New Jersey, and I have to say … Wow. Nice boat. The thing floats like a duck and runs like a gazelle.
There are all sorts of ways a teak deck can be spiffed up. And all sorts of levels to which the spiffed-upness can be taken. I recently opted to exalt my Grand Banks trawler Betty Jane’s woodsy pavement (both on her main deck and her flying bridge) to the highest level I could afford, both money-wise and time-wise. Check out the photo above. You can be the judge of how successful the month-long ordeal actually was.
There are all sorts of boating weekends, of course. Sometimes you leave the dock, sometimes you don’t. Sometimes you cook a meal or two onboard, sometimes you don’t.
Over the years I’ve done lots of flying. But one of the most exciting landing’s I’ve ever experienced was on an air strip in Bahrain
Musta been last year, although DANG! it doesn’t seem that long ago. I was helping deliver a Kadey Krogen 48 AE up the eastern coast of the United States, from Stuart, Florida, to Annapolis, Maryland.
I don’t think I’d ever seen anything quite like it before. There was a light rain falling at the time–as there often is in the Pacific Northwest–and I was walking down the long dock at Skyline Marina in Anacortes, Washington. And the vision ahead seemed like pure romance, or maybe pure cinematic romance is more like it. I swear. Had Humphrey Bogart himself swung open the watertight door of the buff-colored superstructure and stepped out into the chilly air to study the sky and pull up the collar of his pea coat, I wouldn’t have been a bit surprised.
I just finished testing the Sealine F48 off the Isle of Wight in southern England, and now I’m back in my hotel room in London. Flying back to NYC in the morning. Y’know, just popped across the pond for 24 hours to do some yachting. I feel so cosmopolitan right now it’s not even funny.
By Jason Y. Wood
If every boat has a story, there’s a good chance many of the Bertram 46 convertibles out there will tell one that prospective owners may not want to hear. That’s the danger of looking for a sportfisherman and a good sea boat—those captains bought them because they could handle the rough stuff, and keep fishing.
Just two weeks from now I’ll be headed down to Brielle, New Jersey (possibly aboard a Protector Targa 30) to go mako fishing on Capt.
The name Irene has been retired from the World Meteorological Organization’s list of storm names for the Atlantic Basin. Typically, names are recycled every six years—unless the storms they designate cause massive destruction. When Irene struck last August, she cut quite a swath: 48 deaths (40 in the US) and an estimated $15.8 billion in damages, not to mention devastating inland flooding in New Jersey, Massachusetts, and Vermont.
While the briny tang of a raw oyster slipping across the tongue is a distant memory come summertime (for those who still abide by those rules), it’s high time to turn your thoughts to other seasonal delectations. Enter the softshell crab for an all-too-short visit: Flavor and texture are at their peak from now until August, and, as usual, the simplest recipe is the best with the freshest seafood.
A few weekends ago, I was elbow deep in Betty Jane’s annual oil-change (a day-long extravaganza that usually entails, besides the oil deal, a total swap-out of coolant and filters) when I heard something strange and seemingly far off.
A bagpipe? Playing The Marine’s Hymn?
by Jason Y. Wood
Some folks lounge around to relax. Others immerse themselves in a trashy novel, ignoring those around them in favor of purple prose and questionable cover art. Others make small talk. None of that works for me. I can’t really read with other people around, and staring off into space doesn’t work.
I recently had a job to do onboard Betty Jane that seemed virtually impossible. There are a couple of seven-foot-long cosmetic trim pieces over each of her fuel tanks and I needed to remove each of them so I could get at and replace the hose clamps on the fuel fills.
I tested out the Viking 55 yesterday down in New Gretna, New Jersey, and I have to say … Wow. Nice boat. The thing floats like a duck and runs like a gazelle.
There are all sorts of ways a teak deck can be spiffed up. And all sorts of levels to which the spiffed-upness can be taken. I recently opted to exalt my Grand Banks trawler Betty Jane’s woodsy pavement (both on her main deck and her flying bridge) to the highest level I could afford, both money-wise and time-wise. Check out the photo above. You can be the judge of how successful the month-long ordeal actually was.
There are all sorts of boating weekends, of course. Sometimes you leave the dock, sometimes you don’t. Sometimes you cook a meal or two onboard, sometimes you don’t.
Over the years I’ve done lots of flying. But one of the most exciting landing’s I’ve ever experienced was on an air strip in Bahrain
Musta been last year, although DANG! it doesn’t seem that long ago. I was helping deliver a Kadey Krogen 48 AE up the eastern coast of the United States, from Stuart, Florida, to Annapolis, Maryland.
I don’t think I’d ever seen anything quite like it before. There was a light rain falling at the time–as there often is in the Pacific Northwest–and I was walking down the long dock at Skyline Marina in Anacortes, Washington. And the vision ahead seemed like pure romance, or maybe pure cinematic romance is more like it. I swear. Had Humphrey Bogart himself swung open the watertight door of the buff-colored superstructure and stepped out into the chilly air to study the sky and pull up the collar of his pea coat, I wouldn’t have been a bit surprised.
I just finished testing the Sealine F48 off the Isle of Wight in southern England, and now I’m back in my hotel room in London. Flying back to NYC in the morning. Y’know, just popped across the pond for 24 hours to do some yachting. I feel so cosmopolitan right now it’s not even funny.
By Jason Y. Wood
If every boat has a story, there’s a good chance many of the Bertram 46 convertibles out there will tell one that prospective owners may not want to hear. That’s the danger of looking for a sportfisherman and a good sea boat—those captains bought them because they could handle the rough stuff, and keep fishing.
Just two weeks from now I’ll be headed down to Brielle, New Jersey (possibly aboard a Protector Targa 30) to go mako fishing on Capt.
The name Irene has been retired from the World Meteorological Organization’s list of storm names for the Atlantic Basin. Typically, names are recycled every six years—unless the storms they designate cause massive destruction. When Irene struck last August, she cut quite a swath: 48 deaths (40 in the US) and an estimated $15.8 billion in damages, not to mention devastating inland flooding in New Jersey, Massachusetts, and Vermont.
While the briny tang of a raw oyster slipping across the tongue is a distant memory come summertime (for those who still abide by those rules), it’s high time to turn your thoughts to other seasonal delectations. Enter the softshell crab for an all-too-short visit: Flavor and texture are at their peak from now until August, and, as usual, the simplest recipe is the best with the freshest seafood.
A few weekends ago, I was elbow deep in Betty Jane’s annual oil-change (a day-long extravaganza that usually entails, besides the oil deal, a total swap-out of coolant and filters) when I heard something strange and seemingly far off.
A bagpipe? Playing The Marine’s Hymn?
