The Salty Barrister

...that last blog entry was pathetically poor. No mistaking me for Byron, huh? Soldiering on . . .

Back in 2006, there was big tug named the "Valour" that foundered and sank. It was a real mess of an event with gorilla seas, gale force winds, and a couple of deaths. I just read the U.S. Coast Guard report (available online) and the fact narrative gave me that churning sensation when you know something bad is unfolding; that heavy transom slipping too fast toward the cement pier feeling. Even the most hardened of you, won't be able to read the damn thing without wincing at the hopelessness of the circumstances. Like how all these things seem to unravel, the problems just seem to keep piling on top of each other. A list to port, ballasting gone awry, a fall, broken legs, man overboard, an overrunning barge . . . . Sweet Mother Mary! The clinical and stair-step description of events based on the surviving crewmember interviews is awesomely terrifying. Give it a read and see what you make of it. (Do you agree with the Coast Guard's enforcement recommendations against certain surviving crewmembers?) Let me set the reading stage . . . it's January, around 11:00 p.m. at night off the coast of North Carolina with forty to fifty mile an hour winds gusting to seventy and 15-20 foot seas . . . .

Give your own salute to the crew that didn't make it. This Blog entry's mine.

Underway and making way.

--- JKF

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I remember nudging throttles forward with my knuckle-back, tapping each into some kind of synchronicity, and now I'm about to up the revolutions on this blog. Let me play provocateur . . . didn't this Country sell out the Gulf's beauty years ago? I mean we've got thousands of rigs shouldering up to environments described as "pristine" and "irreplaceable". Me? I call that something's gonna happen, we're just not sure when.

I'm leveling collective criticism. I'm not singling out the oil and gas industry's hardhats, it's as honest a work as anything else anyone does. Look, you don't need to be wearing thick wool socks and sandals to appreciate that the American majority hasn't done squat to conserve. And this so-called alternative energy the media and marketers tout reminds me of some high-end science fair projects. A car that'll get you to the next county on batteries? A windmill here and there? Bio-fuel? Come on, let's be honest, we haven't given a hoot about anything but cheap goods and cheaper fuel, and, in my opinion, we ante-upped the Gulf Coast for cheap fuel everything else be damned.

So now we've gone and punctured Hades. ("The devil went down to Georgia the Gulf Coast, he was looking for a soul to steal."). A nether world pierced and spewing the fermented richness of a million eons ago. If you make a pact with Devil, well maybe you shouldn't be wincing and whining come pay day. To my mind, we curse our trade-off, we try hard to collect money damages, and we get on with realizing that we should bloody well start paying attention to our future decisions. They seem to have consequences, huh?

I'm not underway and I'm not making way. I'm just angry.

--- JKF

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There are thirty islands in Narragansett Bay, and Despair Island is the smallest. After having claimed two lives this past weekend and, as these things tend to do, no doubt upending a dozen others, it's also the most aptly named. I don't know much about the facts of that incident aside from what's on the tube, but I know what it's like to run into a ledge at night. Too many years ago, I was coming back from Newport and foolishly looped around the north end of Rose Island on a low tide. Wide up on a plane, I walloped a ledge and sheered the very bottom of the outboard's lower unit off. Humbled and rattled, I idled my way home. I was fortunate that evening.

The Navigational Rules for International and Inland waters require, and I paraphrase, a speed appropriate for the circumstances. How many times have you seen a powerboat blasting its way down the Bay on a foggy day? Alright, I'll volunteer, a fair bit. And sailboats don't get off easy here either. I've seen sailboats zipping along with a crowd aboard, but no one looking under the jib or over the rail. That's just as dangerous and violates the Navigational Rules regarding the maintenance of a proper look-out.

We're all about to lug children, spouses, beer and sandwiches aboard and head out onto the Bay. It'll be good times because, thankfully, the ledger sheet for such things on the Bay is way in the black. All I ask is that when you get underway, you keep a little despair in mind.

--- JKF

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I don’t know where time goes these days. If life was an old hull hanging in the Travelift straps, time would be pouring out of the seams and smattering all over the ground. Point being, with time passing by so fast, you try and grab those little moments to store away another good memory.

One of those little moments might be a boat charter while on holiday. You know the deal. Fourth day into a vacation and you're just beginning to realize there's a life outside of the daily grind. Tiring of the beach, you grab a family member or two and rent a boat to poke around the shoreline. So here's where this blog spots an issue for you. Those boat rental contracts with the age-old presentation on yellow paper can have some pretty scary terms and conditions. I'd say a prudent boater probably scoots the children outside and takes a moment to read that fine print. I'd say a prudent boater probably takes a few photographs of the boat before getting underway and maybe even checks the inventory aboard to make sure the boat's carrying what it's supposed to carry. All and all, taking the time to understand what's expected of you before you get underway makes good sense.

I keep parroting this, but there's no legal advice being given here. You do what you want, but at least be aware of the issue being spotted. Because, you know, for all time's fleet footedness, it sure can drag when you're dealing with something crappy like a claim for damage to a rental boat you're damn sure you didn't cause.

Underway and making way.

--- JKF

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