"Most Lubberly" championship

[wingreen]

While reading all the talk about what is so lubberly about pigtails in the pigtail vs. topping lift thread, I thought I'd throw down the gauntlet on who might be the "Most Lubberly" champion. I think I have a pretty good shot at the title...

I once sailed all day completely unaware that I had neglected to unhook my boom from the pigtail on the backstay. There!!! The gauntlet is DOWN!!! Beat THAT!!! (commences end zone dance...)

To tell the truth, she didn't sail all that bad, or I might have noticed at some point. Is that even more lubberly than sailing all day like that in the first place?!

[D Rush]

lubber·ly adv. & adj.
Adj. 1. lubberly - clumsy and unskilled; "a big stupid lubberly fellow"
unskilled - not having or showing or requiring special skill or proficiency; "unskilled in the art of rhetoric"; "an enthusiastic but unskillful mountain climber"; "unskilled labor"; "workers in unskilled occupations are finding fewer and fewer job opportunities"; "unskilled workmanship"
2. lubberly - inexperienced in seamanship; "of all landlubbers the most lubberly"

[wingreen]

That's what I'm talkin' 'bout. Clearly definition #2.

[Dean Abramson]

Wingreen: either you have a great jib, or you did not sail downwind much that day!

Anyway, once while reefing (no pigtails involved), as I was pulling the main back up... Well, I am not sure how I got a line wrapped around the lifelines, but when I yanked on the halyard I pulled one of the lifeline stanchions right out of the socket! The wind was building quickly, and here I was staring at that.

Dean

[lubeckmaine]

the threads may be confused here but
"To tell the truth, she didn't sail all that bad, or I might have noticed at some point." That's what I'm talkin' about. You couldn't have been scared. Were you?

[wingreen]

That's a pretty good one, Dean. I ripped out a stanchion once, but not like that. And yes, I was mostly close-hauled that day, and it was when I started a downwind leg, about 1/2 mi. from port, that I noticed my problem, "Hey, why can't I let out the main... D'OH!"

No fear, Lubeck. The pigtail allows the boom to swing about 1.5' - 2' each way, which was enough given the circumstances, so I didn't notice it.

[Carl Thunberg]

Okay, I'll bite. In the interest of possibly winning a title, I'll repeat a story I've related here before. I have to admit though, Dean has the pole position and he'll be tough to beat.

My boat does not have an anchor light, so I hoist a lantern up to the masthead on the jib halyard. Once I forgot to tie a downhaul on the lantern. When I woke up in the morning, I stared in disbelief at the lantern dangling there at the top of the mast with no way to get it down. After an hour of useless efforts with a boathook, fishing rod, and anything else I could get my hands on, I resigned myself to sailing with just the mainsail. Problem was, I was two days away from my destination so I sailed that way for two days. Talk about weather helm! I was exhausted fighting that tiller for two days.

[Chris Reinke]

Is it possible to be nominated for the "Most Lubberly" award out of association with a total moron?

Several years back I had a friend come sailing who boasted that he was a very experienced sailor. By the time we were heading into port it was a clear, but moonless night. I offered to go below and make some dinner, and check the charts. I called up to the helm to advise the "sailor" that our next mark should be a FR4s about 1.5 miles off the starboard bow. He said he did not see it. I found that strange since it was so clear he should have easily seen it. I asked if he could see any markers. He casually mentioned a constant green light and a constant red light that he was steering towards...........WHAT!

I ran to the helm and turned hard over realizing the "sailor" was steering towards the bow of on approaching tanker thinking that the navigation lights were our channel markers.

Needless to say, I remained at the helm for the next several hours until we made our dock.

[Oswego John]

N.M.

[wingreen]

... He casually mentioned a constant green light and a constant red light that he was steering towards...........WHAT!

I ran to the helm and turned hard over realizing the "sailor" was steering towards the bow of on approaching tanker thinking that the navigation lights were our channel markers...

Sure, that one counts!

[Neil Gordon]

My boat does not have an anchor light, so I hoist a lantern up to the masthead on the jib halyard. Once I forgot to tie a downhaul on the lantern. When I woke up in the morning, I stared in disbelief at the lantern dangling there at the top of the mast with no way to get it down. After an hour of useless efforts with a boathook, fishing rod, and anything else I could get my hands on, I resigned myself to sailing with just the mainsail.

All you needed to win was for the oil lantern to set the main on fire.

[John Vigor]

Once when I was on my own and needed to do a small job at the masthead I figured out an easy way to get myself up there. I had two large galvanized buckets on board, so I filled them with water and hoisted them to the top of the mast as a counterbalance for my weight.

I then lashed my bosun's chair to the halyard, stepped into the chair and cast off the halyard, ready to pull myself up.

Unfortunately, the buckets of water were heavier than me, and I ascended to the top of the mast at a high rate of speed, hitting the spreaders on the way up and severely bruising my shoulder.

As I reached the top, the buckets reached the bottom and spilled their contents over the cabintop.

I was now heavier than the buckets, and descended at an alarming rate. In passing, the buckets hit my ribs, badly winding me. I hit the spreaders again, badly bruising my buttocks. I finally landed heavily on the cabintop, winding myself and spraining my ankle badly.

At this stage I must have lost my senses because I stepped out of the bosun's chair. The buckets were now heavier than the bosun's chair and descended rapidly, hitting me on the head and knocking me out.

(Of course, if this were true, it would be lubberly, perhaps the lubberliest of all. But I always think it could have happened. And maybe it did sometime, somewhere. It was Steinbeck, I think, who said that just because a thing didn't necessarily happen, it didn't necessarily mean it wasn't true.)

John Vigor

[Russell]

When I up anchor and get underway, since I single hand, my routine is to pull up the anchor and leave it dangling just barely in the water, then go back to the helm and get myself out of the anchorage rather then drift into other boats as I fuss with stowing the anchor. Then once out of the anchorage and there is nothing to hit I go forward to pull the anchor the rest of the way in and stow it properly.

Well last week I sailed from Jost van Dyke to Tortola having forgotten to go back forward to properly stow the anchor! I arrived at my destination and realized the anchor was still dangling and had been the whole trip.

Granted it was only an 8 mile trip... but still! Duh!

To make it worse, I did the same exact thing the next day.

And here I tend to make fun of all the clueless bareboaters in the BVI. Well that day they were all likely watching me sail past and making fun of ME. I get what I deserve!

[D Rush]

My "Lubberly" moment, alright one of my "most lubberly" moment happened many years ago when I was in my teens. I was sailing with my older cousin Joe in a weekend PHRF racing in Boston Harbor. I know I had never been that far out into the harbor before and was quite excited about my adventure. We were heading back from Boston Light, I think we were near "Nixes Mate" when my cousin decide to use the head. Telling me to stay on the current course, my cousin ducked into the cabin. I stayed on the current course. After a minute of sailing the boat by myself, a small whale appear briefly on the starboard side. I was speechless at the sight of a whale. When the whale appeared again, I yelled to my cousin, "Joe get out here and look at this whale". Joe burst into the cockpit yelling "Get the charts....Where the hell are we!" My awesome whale was a huge rock poking above the rolling waves, I had sailed straight out of the channel. After quickly navigating back into the channel, my cousin declared that "we were safe". To this day my cousin often reminds me to "Keep an eye out for whales" whenever I'm at the tiller of his sailboat.

When I have a "lubberly" moment now, they are referred to as "a senior moment".

[M. R. Bober]

Many years ago (good start, eh?) I was heading to a new yard for winter haul out in TIA MARI CD27. It was slightly foggy, and I was accompanied by Dave "the arm," who taught me how to sail.

For those who know the Chesapeake Bay, we were leaving the Magothy River heading out to the Bay turning north to Bodkin Creek. Our plan was simple, exit the Magothy and parallel the big ships' channel staying just west of the buoys (in the Belvedere Shoals). It was a good plan.

I was surprised at how quickly we reached the Bay. Suddenly a large ship appeared dead ahead. Impossible, but there it was. We altered course to avoid collision. It still seemed that a collision was certain so we advanced the throttle to about max and again readjusted course further to the west. Our efforts seemed for naught as collision seemed more likely.

We were approaching water too shallow for a big ship, but OK for TIA MARI when the fog lifted a bit. The Baltimore Light, at the northern confluence of the Magothy and the Bay, is a mighty structure with a black cylindrical base topped by a white house. You would have to see it in the fog to note its similarity to a freighter. Really. Ask Dave.

Mitchell Bober
Sunny Lancaster (where Julie Andrews is the resident expert in lubberly), VA