Cars, Boats, Airplanes

Transportation Vs. Recreation

25 January, 2019

In recreational boating, as in recreational flying, there is a thing called “get-there-itis.” Get-there-itis is a disease where a normally very sensible pilot or captain makes a blindingly stupid decision to take some risk or put his crew in some uncomfortable situation, in order to arrive at a destination at a desired time. In flying, the outcome is often fatal (departing into bad weather or running out of fuel); in boating it’s usually just a crappy day that makes everyone hate the boat. Either way it’s not worth it.

Get-there-itis is a natural result of us conflating transportation with recreation. We use things for fun that we also use to get places, so it’s hardly surprising when one bleeds into the other. Get-there-itis is also likely to come about when more than one vehicle is involved — one captain has to return the boat before another, or has a higher tolerance for crew pain, etc.

The antidote? In flying, it’s simple — don’t ever fly for work unless you are a trained professional. When you are flying for fun, do it on clear days when the pleasure of flying is at its best. In boating it’s a bit more tricky, because you usually have a group of people with you, and the boat is functioning as an RV. So it does need to go places. The one thing you can do is not link yourself to another boat or a flotilla, so that you can be your own master.

With that, off I go to follow the other boat into a rainstorm…

Something I Will Never Own

23 January, 2019

Sailboat — A very beautiful white sloop anchored off Prickly Pear

I’m not sure how boats became part of my life. I grew up in Atlanta, after all, far from the sea. The most experience I ever had with the water was skiing on man-made lakes (which was fun but not really boat-y). Given I have no family history, then, it’s a little funny that I spend so much time today thinking about being on boats, taking pictures of them, writing about them, and so on.

In the end I have to credit my father-in-law Ron, who has been a major influence in my adult life, with getting me into boats. Somewhere I have photos and videos of Kim and me at ages 25 and 22, respectively, on my first ever sailing trip in the BVI, on the sailboat Priority II — a beautiful Taiwan-built Tayana 55 — that he and his business partner Dean Burtch had just had built for themselves. I had no idea that I was ascending to the pinnacle of sailboating my first time out of the gate.

At the time I never dreamed I might some day myself own such a thing, or even rent one and captain it. But Kim and I have fallen into exactly that, between river boat trips in France and now our first sailboat charter trip in the BVI. Chartering in France is a great vacation and not wildly expensive. It’s quite a bit more expensive in the BVI, but still manageable… and here we are doing it. Strange.

But rambling about boats wasn’t actually the reason for this post. I wanted to write about owning versus renting, about the possessing of things versus the using of them for fun.

For reasons that aren’t clear to me, American culture has long been obsessed with ownership. Maybe it’s the only way to signify social standing in our supposedly classless society, or maybe it’s the role the private property aesthetic and legal structure played in our forbears’ theft of the land from its former occupants… who knows. Anyway it boils down to the “who dies with the most toys wins” wisecrack you hear now and then.

I accepted this principle — that more and better stuff was unquestionably a good thing — without question until we moved to Europe a few years ago and rented an apartment for the first time in a very long time (having left most of our possesions behind in Philadelphia). The apartment was lovely, stocked with the basic stuff we needed to live, and I found myself very happy not to have to worry about repairing it or being responsible for it in any way. I had accidentally discovered for myself the great truth that your stuff owns you just as much as you own it. Every single thing you acquire puts some level of demand on your mental energy, worrying about its welfare or whether it was worth purchasing.

So, back to the beautiful boat above. I’m not likely to have the means to purchase such a lovely thing, but I don’t think I would even if I could. On the whole, I’d rather rent.

The Ultimate Harpmobile

5 January, 2019

The first issue of Harp Column, in July 1993, was built around a review of cars like this one. Safe to say I think we’ve aged a bit better than the Roadmaster, although this one seems to be going strong still 27 years later…

Canal Boating: Expect the Unexpected

21 September, 2017

A brief summary of our Escapades Fluviale

One of the great things about canal boating is you never know what to expect…

Year 1: We arrive equipped with elaborate plans for what to do on our boat trip on the Canal du Centre, including which wineries to visit etc. Problem: Canal du Centre is closed due to lack of water, try a different canal. Outcome: Excellent — we visit Pont de Vaux (a tiny canal to a tiny village) and Louhans, at the top of the navigable Seille river, which has the most amazing market (including livestock!) we have ever seen.

Year 2: I book the wrong boat (was supposed to be the deluxe two cabin version, actually was the non-luxury three cabin version of the same size boat). Additional problems: Bow thruster doesn’t work and my bed broke and dropped me into the bilge. Weather is freezing cold most of the time and the crappy boat has to be driven from inside when it’s raining because there is no dodger or anything of the sort over the outdoor help position. Outcome: Excellent — we have a fantastic time with great friends, searching for geocaches along the route (my normally risk-averse wife crawled out onto a disused railroad trestle over the river to find one), and met a winemaker in Rully that we still visit regularly (Domaine De La Folie, highly recommended).

Year 3: I book the right boat (yay) with the right company (Saone Bateaux) and we actually have decent weather with Kim’s dad and stepmom. Problem: Plan is to go up Canal de Bourgogne and make extensive use of e-bikes for Ron and Claire to tour around the area — but they both have trouble getting used to the e-bikes so we mostly stay on the boat. Outcome: Excellent — after panicking over possibly running out of fresh water for showers etc., we make it to a lock with an anchorage run by two fantastic people who make us great food. The scenery is absolutely gorgeous. Hope to go back soon.

Year 4: I book the right boat again and we go up the Canal du Rhone au Rhin with same friends from Year 2. Problems: None. Outcome: Excellent, had a really great time, dropped Alison and Kyle off in Besancon for their return and then went up the Canal du Centre for a couple days on the way back to turn the boat in.

Year 5: Great weather, so great that I get heat exhaustion/dehydration from standing out in the sun driving the boat! (Wine might have played a part…). Outcome: Excellent, we were so hot we swam in the Saone off the back of the boat for the first time in 5 years. It was deliciously cold.

Year 6: Cold and rainy to start, now shaping up very nicely however as I write this. Problem: Atlantic side of Canal du Centre closed due to a broken lock (They had to drain the canal!). Outcome: So far, excellent — we get to spend more time in the Cote d’Or visiting wineries.

In general — one of the fun things about doing this canal boat vacation is that you never know what France is going to throw at you.

Everything’s Bigger in America

24 December, 2015

Today I’m writing from a coffee shop in the Santana Row “village” (see below for rant) in San Jose, California. It’s Christmas Eve, 2015. I’ve been in the Czech Republic now with only brief interruptions since June 2015, so I’ve had a fair bit of time to acclimate to the European lifestyle. Coming back for the holiday brings a bunch of thoughts, including how weird it is that everyone understands English, but one stands out:

Holy crap everything is just enormous!

Like, seriously huge. Cars, houses, roads, plates of food, stores, things in stores… I feel like Gulliver or something. Only the people are roughly the same size. Well, they’re roughly the same height, anyway. Nonetheless, it apparently takes one of these to transport a family of four to dinner:

It’s not like big cars are a new thing in the U.S. After all, my father drove us around in one of these when I was a kid:

(Wow I really wish he had kept that car…)

What I do think has changed since the Johnson administration is the size of everything else. I’m not sure, but I wonder sometimes if the American obesity crisis is simply an attempt to expand to fill all the space we’ve made for ourselves. (Really I think it’s because we’re being poisoned, but that’s a subject for another blog.)

The contrast with Brno, where the average monthly salary would not quite buy the gas for the truck above, is quite impressive. You can make arguments for both lifestyles, I guess, but I know which I would prefer.

Oh, and about Santana Row… blearrgh. Why do we tear down real towns with character and interest, so we can build fake ones instead? Not enough room for luxury retail? Bad land-use laws (this is probably it, really)? I think I feel another blog coming on on the importance of decent legislation…