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Not Falling Far, Part 2: The Bounce Test

Last week I told of a near-fall while aloft on a big square-rigger. This week’s story takes place some years later, aboard a contemporary sailboat.

I now never go aloft unless I have, at all times, at least two methods of attachment to something trustworthy. Usually this means two halyards, and I prove each one by having the deck crew take up on it, then holding it on a belay point as I leap up and fall on it. This imposes an impact load that is much higher than my bodyweight; the idea is that if any component is going to break, it will break it before I leave the deck. We call this “the bounce test.”

There is a hidden double meaning to this phrase, having to do with how fast things fall. In J.B.S. Haldane’s 1928 essay, “On Being the Right Size,” he notes that “… the resistance presented to movement by the air is proportional to the surface of the moving object. Divide an animal’s length, breadth, and height each by ten; its weight is reduced to a thousandth, but its surface only to a hundredth. So the resistance to falling in the case of the small animal is relatively ten times greater than the driving force.”

Translation: big animals fall faster than small ones, and are therefore more likely to be injured or killed when they fall. Cats land, people bounce, horses splash.

When you do the bounce test, then, it is well to remember that, should something go wrong, you will hit the deck so hard that you will actually bounce. This is to be avoided.

The trouble is that, even knowing the consequences of the failure of one’s gear, the repetition of ritual can wear away the significance of its source. The bounce test is a ritual, a comforting ritual, a way of informing my hind brain that I am being appropriately cautious. But for me on this day it has become a bit empty; I am just going through the motions.

One of the halyards is the jib halyard, and one is for the spinnaker. The latter is rightfully regarded as the least favorable line to go aloft on, because a failure of the block means that the entire halyard will fall to deck, along with whoever is on it. On some boats the line goes into the mast a few feet below the block, but even here a fall could kill you, because you will fall twice the distance from block to mast entrance before fetching up sharply. Talk about a shock load. There is even a moderate-to-good chance that, in fetching up, the halyard might shear on the bottom of the exit, so you would get one possibly fatal shock load followed by an almost certainly fatal landing. Halyards that go directly to masthead sheaves are far more robust, and far more trustworthy.

I am not thinking of any of this as I jump up, lean way back, and bounce on the belayed spinnaker halyard. Suddenly I am lying flat on my back, stunned, and watching as the halyard, and its block, and a broken-off chunk of stainless steel spinnaker crane is hurtling towards my head. I think, “It would be really embarrassing if that kills me,” and roll sharply away.

The assembly just misses me, hits with a crash, leaving a divot in the deck. My crew rushes forward to see if I am all right. Behind them I can see our client, gone utterly pale. It turns out that he is a personal injury lawyer; he later relates, not that he was concerned for my well-being, but that he was fearful that somehow I would want to sue him. But all he says at the time is, “I didn’t know that stainless steel could break.”

Since that time, we always leave one halyard belayed, with just a bit of slack in it when we are testing the other one. That way, if the one being tested lets go, the other will catch the climber right away. And we never lean way back as we jump. We work to keep the ritual, and therefore ourselves, alive.

This was the second part of the three-part “Not Falling Far” series. To see part 1, “The Flag,” click Here.

Enjoy the story? Looking for more? You’re in luck! “Falling,” which in includes all three of these stories along with other tales from aloft, both thrilling and amusing, is now for sale on Amazon.com in handy e-book form! Or click here to get it on Apple iBooks!

From dropped tools to collapsed towers to near-fatal falls, the litany of accidents and near-accidents is long… and the sometimes miraculous outcomes are both instructive and thought-provoking.

Not a technical manual, “Falling” is nonetheless a must-have companion in the library of anyone working at heights.

 

If you would like to read Haldane’s entire, beautiful essay, visit Here.

For more on working aloft on sailboats, I of course recommend my Video on the topic in our store. It is also available on Vimeo. You might also enjoy the pertinent section in the “Apprentice” , but excellent training in all manner of fall-protection is available just about everywhere these days.

 

Next week: The Ascender

 

As always, I invite you to binge-read my large-and-growing number of Blog entries. Thanks to all those who have written to say nice things.

Time is running out for signups for our June  Rig Your Boat workshop. Contact us soon.

Fair leads,

Brion Toss

 

 

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Name That Detune, Answers and Winners

Last week’s rigging puzzle, was about a puzzled rigger. Here’s an abbreviated version of the scenario:

On a boat with shrouds that attach to deck athwartships (directly out from the mast), the uppers were set up first, to a desired tension. Then the intermediates were set up. Then the rigger checked the tension on the uppers, and found that they were significantly slacker than they had been. What had happened?

For the full-length version of the puzzle, see Here

Up to speed? Good. Now for some answers.

By far the most popular response – and the most frequent cause of this exact thing happening in the real world – is that the mast’s support gave way. On a deck-stepped mast it could mean that the deck compressed, or that the compression post lived up to its name, or that the part of the hull that the compression post landed on had given way. “Squishy mast step” is how Steve Willie described it, and I urge you all to check for this problem; more than a few times we have undertaken the simple task of tuning a rig, only to discover that because of this problem there wasn’t going to be enough throw in the turnbuckles.

It is also possible for the base of the mast itself to give way, especially on keel-stepped masts, where rot (wood) or corrosion (aluminum or steel) can be at work in the moist environs of the bilge. This could literally be happening right under your feet, so lift up those sole boards and take a close look, regularly.

Many entries noted that if the mast isn’t going down, the deck or chainplates might be coming up. The latter is a possibility with a keel-stepped mast where someone forgot to set up the tie rod belowdecks adjacent to the mast. Not all keel-stepped masts have or need tie rods, but in the absence of a nearby structural bulkhead, for instance, they are the only thing that can keep the deck from buckling upwards from the compression loads imposed by the shrouds, and sometimes also from the loads on blocks for halyards that are led aft. If the middle of the deck goes up, the sides of the hull can go in, and the rig can slacken.

On very flimsy hulls, the portions of the hull that the chainplates are pulling up on can deform. This is “humping” as opposed to hogging. Hogging has nothing to do with rig tune. If a hull is humping, and if the rig is being tuned correctly, it means that the hull is not up to the task of sailing.

Some entrants had more dramatic suggestions. For instance, here are two of David Randle’s many suggestions:

The shrouds connect to the mast via T-ball fittings, and one of the uppers wasn’t fully seated in its slot but slipped in while he was working on the intermediates.

and,

The mast was not fully seated on the step while tensioning the uppers, but finally settled all the way down after adding the tension of the intermediates.

These can happen, and when they do, they tend to do so with a serious bang. If this happens to you, get that mast back out and see what broke from the impact.

Several people suggested that induced bend might be the culprit, and this can happen, especially if you are starting from the top, and the backstay is also tightened at the same time. This is because almost every mast nowadays is thinner side-to-side than fore-and-aft, precisely because designers are counting on all the shrouds to prevent buckling in the lateral plane. If the shrouds are loose, but the stuff up top is tight, the mast can buckle, dramatically. How do I know this? Never mind. But the larger dimension fore-and-aft is what stiffens the mast in that plane, as there are no shrouds and spreaders to support it there.

It is also easy to get changes in tune simply by tightening shrouds unevenly, as several entrants pointed out.

A couple of people thought that the mast got shorter for every pound of tension applied. The idea is that when the uppers were tensioned the mast gets shorter, and when the intermediates are tensioned it gets shorter still, resulting in slack on the uppers.

Technically almost any material under compression gets shorter, including the stuff you make masts out of. But the kind of loads we are talking about would probably not produce shortening that would be possible to measure, let alone affect the tune of the shrouds. Think about it: if the mast compressed that much under shroud loads, then tuning would be a matter of gradually taking up on the standing rigging, trying to reach the desired tension, until the mast was a pancake.

There were lots of other ideas, and I’ve shown some of my favorites below, but now it is the time to announce our winners.

First, the randomly-chosen contributor of at least one valid response is …

Captain Pete Gustafson! His no-nonsense entry is as follows:

How about a soft or collapsing mast step? It could also be the deck straps that keep the deck from lifting are loose.

Congratulations, Pete, you are now the proud owner of my Rig Tuning DVD, or credit towards anything else in our catalog, as well as a copy of Selden’s excellent rig tuning guide. Be in touch to tell me where to send them.

The winner of our other prize, for the greatest number of somewhat realistic answers, goes to … Henry Schultz! Congratulations Henry, I actually/barely thought that 12 of your 13 entries had at least some merit. For your prize, you get exactly the same things Pete does. Be in touch.

Honorable mention to David Randle, who had just one valid answer less than Pete.

And now for a randomized list of further possible answers, taken from all entries. Thanks to everyone who took the time and effort to throw a light on this topic.

Temperature variance in the rig when adjusted.  Example, the uppers were done when the temperature was 35 and intermediates were done at 85 degrees.

The uppers stretched under the initial load after being tensioned, while he was fiddling with the intermediates. [This can happen with brand new wire]

He had installed a Corian step to replace some much pitted aluminum and with the combined strain of the shrouds there was molecular creep letting the mast down a little.

Throughbolts on the mast elongating the hole. [A surprisingly common problem. Likewise we see throughbolt failures. [Both problems can readily lead to dismastings]

One or more of the uppers’ swages (wire), rod ends (rod), or splices (composite) was/were failing and slipped. [Poorly-seated mechanical terminals can allow wire to move significantly before everything settles into place. Similarly, synthetic rigging must be stretched hard at first, to remove constructional elongation]

He neglected to pin the turnbuckles of the uppers, and while he was fiddling with the intermediates, the upper turnbuckles backed off.

His tension gauge was inferior or perhaps he used it incorrectly and all the readings were wrong anyway. [Words of wisdom. Just because you have one of those gauges doesn’t mean you know how to use it]

The uppers were adjusted at low tide with the keel resting on bottom thereby pushing the keel step mast higher the normal position when free floating.  Intermediates were done when floating. [Not a likely scenario, true, but correct in principle. It is why we never tune on the hard]

The rigger was at a wedding the night before and still pretty looped when he tuned the uppers. [My favorite]

Thanks again to everyone who entered. You have provided us all with food for thought.

If you would like to learn more about the principles and practice of rig tuning, you can find that abovementioned DVD at our Online Store and on Vimeo

Newsworthy note: our June Rig class is filling up, so if you were hoping to attend, contact catalog@briontoss.com soon.

This Friday, watch for “The Bounce,” the second installment in our “Not Falling Far” series.

Fair leads,

Brion Toss

 

 

Not Falling Far, Part 1: The Flag

Rigging sometimes means climbing, and climbing sometimes means falling. For all of my professional life, not a year has gone by that I haven’t heard at least one or two tragic stories about falls from aloft. It happens on construction sites, on mountains, on ships, and in theaters. It happens on rooftops, on bridges, in stadiums, on windmills. It happens wherever some combination of inattentiveness, poor training, defective gear, poor judgement, an unstable platform, unanticipated actions, fatigue, injury, and the inherent malevolence of the universe conspire to expose the climber to unimpeded gravity.

But I am not going to write about injurious nor fatal falls, not this time. As instructive as the saddest stories are, their very gruesomeness is what takes our attention, so instead of learning from the mistakes or misfortunes of the fallen, we tend to fixate on the fall itself. Stories of death or serious injuries from falls can be useful, but, like capital punishment, they aren’t necessarily good at getting people to change their behavior. So this time I’m going to talk about some near-misses, about times where things came out okay.

 

 

At deck level on this, the mainmast of the barque Sea Cloud, the shrouds are thick and stable, with fat ratlines.

Things are still good at the next level, the topmast, but not as good; the shrouds are thinner, and there are fewer of them, and their fore-and aft spacing diminishes as they go up.

At the third level there are few shrouds, and spaced so close together that they twist from my weight. My feet barely fit on the narrowing gaps between the shrouds.

When I am over 200 feet up, hanging on to the skysail lifts, which are the last bits of  significant rigging on this mast, my goal is still several feet above me. It is the gleaming mast truck, the cap at the very top. It houses pulleys for flag halyards, and has always performed admirably, but the Yale Alumni Club is arriving soon, to cruise the Turkish coast, and they have sent ahead a huge Yale flag; the bosun is afraid that if the wind picks up, the flag might tear the truck off. So he has assigned me to lash a separate block on, right under the truck, just for that flag. But there is nothing to hang onto up there; I will have to shinny up and tie myself on before tying the flag on.

There is no safe way to do this job, but at this time, 30-some years ago, it is especially dangerous, because I have neither the training nor the knowledge of how to keep myself tied on at every moment. I will just try to hang on until I can get into position above the lifts.

          By brute force I manage to get up. The boat is at the dock on a fairly calm day, but up here the mast is going through at least a 20 foot arc, back and forth. With one hand I reach for the lanyard on my belt that will secure me to the mast. My feet slip. The mast probably still shows dents from where I make a convulsive grab.  As I hang there, an image pops into my mind of the obituary page of my hometown newspaper. The headline reads, “Local man dies hanging Yale flag in Turkey.”

          I think, “No. Too embarrassing,” and I reposition, and get secure, and use my hands and teeth to secure the halyard block for the damn flag, and I get back to deck the gradual way.

This was the first part of the three-part “Not Falling Far” series. Keep reading for the others!

Enjoy the story? Looking for more? You’re in luck! “Falling,” which in includes all three of these stories along with other tales from aloft, both thrilling and amusing, is now for sale on Amazon.com in handy e-book form! Or click here to get it on Apple iBooks!

From dropped tools to collapsed towers to near-fatal falls, the litany of accidents and near-accidents is long… and the sometimes miraculous outcomes are both instructive and thought-provoking.

Not a technical manual, “Falling” is nonetheless a must-have companion in the library of anyone working at heights.

If you have a not-falling-far story that ends happily, and which might prove instructive and/or amusing, please  Contact Me and I will try to fit it into the next installment.

Next week: The Bounce Test

 

For more stories, many of them about rigging, but many about random topics, be sure to comb through our blog. You can reach it Here, or you can click on the link at the bottom of the page. Binge-read away. Oh, and also at the bottom of the page, you can also sign up to receive an email notification when I deliver myself of a new post.

As always, I recommend you visit our Online Store, a great place for rigging gear and supplies, plus educational books and videos.

Fair Leads,

Brion Toss

 

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Puzzle: Name That Detune

A client recently called for a consultation on tuning. He has a 30-something-foot contemporary sloop, double-spreaders, with all the shrouds even with the mast (athwartships). That might sound impenetrably salty for the non-sailors here, but it just means that there are three shrouds (lateral stays) on each side of the mast. The upper two shrouds go over spreaders, which are just struts that create a good angle to the mast. The lowermost shrouds go straight to deck. Checkstays and babystay omitted for clarity. See my illustration above, which simultaneously shows the rig’s configuration and explains why I use actual illustrators for my books.

My client had started by tuning the uppermost shrouds first. This is a red herring. Please do not be distracted by it. But I would always tune the lowermost shrouds first on this rig.

Not distracted? Good. So he got the tension he wanted on the uppers, and went to tension the next ones down, the intermediates. After he had done this, he re-checked the tension on the uppers, and was puzzled to discover that they were significantly slacker than they had been. This is not supposed to happen.

And here is the puzzle: How many possible reasons can you think of for why those upper shrouds lost tension? You only need to come up with one believable explanation to qualify for a Fabulous Prize, but we will have a separate, Also Fabulous Prize for the person or group that can come up with the most answers that, in my utterly subjective opinion, make some kind of sense. Your rigging can be made of wire, rod, or synthetics, but to reduce variables let’s say the mast is aluminum. You can assume your rig is anywhere in the world, at any time of year you like.

Deadline for entries is noon Pacific Time, Monday, May 28th. Send your entries to: puzzle@briontoss.com

If you have a hankering to read prose or other puzzles from me, there are some treats in store for you in the Blog section of our site. You can click on the highlighted word, or scroll to the bottom of this page. Also down there you can join the over 1,000 other people who receive email notifications when I post new items. 

Our June Rig Your Boat Class is filling up fast, so if you have been thinking about coming, don’t delay.

Oh yes, and we have a superlative Online Store. Go shopping there. Now.

Fair leads,

Brion Toss

Star 1

Guest Essay: Something Not Unlike Wisdom

Many years ago Peter Bates, the most talented rigger I’d ever known, burnt himself out working in our loft, literally exhausted himself into a hospital bed, trying to keep my labor- and skill-intensive, poorly-managed business afloat. He recovered, but moved over to the relatively easygoing trade of house construction. Yes, I realize that one would not ordinarily put “easygoing” and “house construction” in the same sentence. That should give you an idea of how crazy things were in my loft.

We are still close friends, and his spouse Jen works for us now, at a moderate and seemly pace. When she told him about last week’s puzzle “Depose the Bowline,“ he thought about it a bit, and then sent me the following inspired and inspiring essay. Thank you, Peter.

In Praise of the Star Knot

The Bowline is one of the most well-known knots in the world, and with good reason. It is fast and easy to tie, secure, jam-resistant, and endlessly useful. It can, and often is, asked to perform duties other knots are more suited to: two bowlines instead of a bend, for example, to tie two ropes together, or instead of a Brummel for jibsheets, or possibly even in place of Butterfly loop for an emergency sling. Yes, the mighty Bowline is indeed the King of Knots, and it may even save your life one day. So, hooray for the Bowline! However, while it may save your life, there is one thing it can never do: save your soul. For that we must look to a knot much less well-known, the Star Knot.

But wait, the Star Knot is just a decorative button, I hear you say. Almost nobody has ever heard of it, let alone tried to tie it.  This is, of course, true. A decorative button has almost no practical use unless we want to stretch the definition of useful to include lanyards and bell pulls and the like. Most people do not have the time or patience to learn how to tie a decorative but “useless” knot. But the world would be a better place if they did.

A Star Knot requires practice and patience to learn how to tie, and even then it is never quick to tie.  You will never tie it with one hand while holding onto a shroud in a gale, but we can’t live in emergency mode all the time. If we sit down for an afternoon or an evening to learn a new skill with our hands, we might find a connection to beauty we were unaware of before. We would have to slow our thoughts, concentrate, and engage with the physical world in a calm and deliberate way. We might even gain a sense of perspective on what is really important in life. And here’s the thing…

I have never completed a Star Knot.

In my rigging days I looked down on this knot as a time waster. An interloper in the production schedule of the busy loft, not unlike a friendly older gentleman who might want to stand around and tell stories when there was actual IMPORTANT RIGGING TO BE DONE!!  I refused to learn the Star Knot on general principles. It got in the way of completing a job in a timely and efficient manner. Why spend time fussing with a decorative and essentially useless knot when the traveler control lines still had to be set up? As I have aged out of my twenties, and thirties, and am making my way through (god help me) my forties, the Star Knot has gone from something I almost hated, to something I aspire to achieve (In much the same way, I now wish I had taken more time to listen to the stories of all those “time wasters”). There’s a lesson for me here I think, one that I am still trying to learn, but at least am able to see now.

So, while you may never be able to use a Star Knot to save your bacon when that through-hull hose slips free (Constrictor), or to send a furler aloft (Icicle Hitch), or pull crew out of the water (Running Bowline), there is no other knot you would want to use on that lanyard you might make for a loved one, for example. And if you look closely at the ship’s bell, which is the heart of many a vessel, you may find a Star Knot hanging on at the end of the pull, put there by a wise soul who knew what is important. When we realize that time, and care, and patience are more important than speed, and utility, and profit, then we have started to achieve something not unlike wisdom, and we are able to appreciate the Star Knot for what it is, the most important knot in the world. And I’m not there yet, but I hope I’m on my way.

 

For those of you not familiar with the Star Knot, Clifford Ashley described it as, “Perhaps the most distinguished of button knots, and certainly the most individual…” This is high praise coming from Ashley, who wrote the preeminent book on knotting. If you are not familiar with him, you can read a bit about him Here. For those of you who, like Peter, have a hankering to master this beautiful structure, I can recommend the ABK, or my video “Fancy Ropework Collection,”, or my book, “The Rigger’s Apprentice.” You can find how to get them by visiting our Online Store.

On very short notice, some fellow knotting knerds sent in pictures of some of their favorite Star Knot examples. You will find a classic 5-strand version at the top of this post, and several more below.

 

 

Next Week: Not Falling Far

 

 

Judging from our WordPress Stats, a lot of you are binge-reading past essays and puzzles, which is most gratifying. If you are of like mind, I invite you to to click Here, and dive in.

Our Store is open for business, so if you are in need of some good rigging gear, or instructional materials,  click . If you need a rig survey, or a consultation, a class on rigging, or actual rigging work, then wander around briontoss.com .

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Fair leads,

Brion Toss

 

 

Capstan Hitch

Depose the Bowline: the Winner!

 

 

 

In last week’s Puzzle I invited you to name a “best knot” other than the Bowline. I asked, “… what other knot would you nominate as a usurper? What other knot do you think is the most valuable, versatile, important knot? It need not have the same function as a Bowline, or any function at all. It is the knot that you think would make the world a measurably better place if only more people knew about it, a knot that, in your mind, deserves fame and glory.”

A lot of you took the time to write in your nominees. Some entries were haiku-like in their brevity; others ran to pages of comparative analysis (I’m looking at you, Andrew Schmitz). Likewise the knots ran in complexity from the barely-a-knot round turn to an exceedingly complex knot that we will get to a bit later. But it was clear that everyone who wrote in had given the topic some thought, sometimes a great deal of thought. And this is appropriate, for knots are – or can be – extraordinarily powerful, elegant tools.

For this contest, I also invited you to be a champion for your knot, to convince a panel of judges why your choice had the best chance of usurping the Bowline as the King of Knots. We were looking for global relevance, usefulness, and deserving-to-be-better-known, but we were also looking for passion on the part of the nominators. Some of you didn’t really bother with this part. Others included photographs of long ago sea cruises, told tales of using your knot in dire and happy times, or sought to bowl us over with pithy bullet points. I can tell you that this aspect of the contest made the difference in what would otherwise have been some very close calls. And even with your commentary, it took our judges quite a bit of time, pizza, and beer to come to a consensus. On the other hand, our task was made easier by the fact that many very deserving knots were either mentioned only briefly, or were not submitted at all. Given the enthusiasm of the response we got, I think it would be a good idea to make this an annual event; perhaps next year we will get to review some of the great knots that didn’t make it into the hopper.

So, to lead up to the finale, here are a few of our Honorable Mentions:

All hail Des Pawson, who distilled his multi-thousand-knot vocabulary to a pithy commentary on the Figure-8 “family,” and an even more pithy secondary recommendation for one of my favorites, the Constrictor.

Shout out to Dan Kerns, and to several others with similar Figure-8 sympathies. Dan warmed our little knot-tying hearts by saying, “The next time you tie a Bowline on a sheet or halyard, look at the other end of the line and note the stopper there. If there isn’t a stopper, tie one.”

Special mention to Captain Gaelen, who came within a whisker of winning with his entry, the Directional Figure-8. This knot can go head-to-head with a Bowline in almost every respect, plus it is really easy to learn, holds perfectly in high-modulus rope, can be made anywhere in the length of a rope, and is an ideal Trucker’s Hitch loop. It was edged out only because it can require some effort to untie after a heavy load, and because it isn’t quite as versatile as either the Bowline or the eventual winner.

Kudos to Chris Baschab, fan of the Zeppelin Bend, who included how-to-tie instructions.

Likewise to Joe Scmidbauer, who said that, “…a round turn will and should be your constant companion.” True, Joe.

Thumbs up to to Lee Youngblood, wise in the ways of tying fenders to rails.

High marks to Tane Hardwick, rope access maestro, who made a compelling argument for the Barrel Knot.

A nod to all of you who proffered the Trucker’s Hitch. This was a tempting one, scoring strong in all of our categories, but ultimately we concluded that it isn’t a knot, but a combination of knots, with a dozen or more distinct options at the central location. Maybe a topic for another contest.

There are a couple of other honorees that I’ll get to, but first, it is time to announce our winner, Mike Brough! His nominee, the Capstan Hitch (see Featured Image, at top of page), also known as the Tugboat Hitch and several other names, scored high in all categories. Like the Bowline, it is extraordinarily versatile; unlike the Bowline it is better than mediocre at everything it does; it is a maximally secure, jam-proof belay, it can be used – among many other things – to start a lashing, or to finish one (adding to lashing tension as it does so). It can be tied and untied with a load on, it can be made to a variety of objects, at any orientation, anywhere in the length of a rope, and it is quick in the making, either with a bight or with an end. Further, it belongs to the Pile Hitch family of knots, which includes, among other knots, the Icicle Hitch, the Smith Marlingspike Hitch, and what mountain climbers call the Munter Hitch. You can make use of the Capstan Hitch afloat and ashore (it’s the classic way to anchor one end of a mason’s line), and given how valuable it is, it is amazing that it is so little-known. If you would like to get to know this knot, the best source would be, um me (see below for a link to our online store), but you might also look Here, on Mike’s site.

Congratulations, Mike. Be in touch about your prize, an autographed copy of  Sea Trials, from author Wendy Hinman.

Before I go, I said that there were a couple of other honorable mentions worth mentioning. I didn’t include them above, because (a) they had no chance of winning, and (b) they aren’t really about knot-tying at all. But I would have chosen either of them over any of the others. Here is the first one, slightly edited, from Richard Shearley:

After much hard thought, and more than one rather hoppy IPA, the answer to the puzzle became apparent to me.

Certainly a round turn may have save the day, and perhaps a Bowline on a bollard waxes poetic, and maybe some complicated  slippery hitch may awe the drunken hordes on the jetty, but there is, without any question, only one most-important knot in a good sailor’s inventory, and that is  the very simple bow.

It’s arguable that more boats have been lost due to a lack of diligence in tying this simple knot around a small box than from all other causes of nautical disasters in history.

I and all the other judges missed Richard’s point during our meeting, and it was only in reviewing the entries for this post that I finally got it. We thought he meant the bow knot, as in tying your shoes on, but he was talking about far more profound unions: those between people.

When I was new to knotting, I became obsessed with it, to the exclusion of everything else, including people. This is understandable; knots, in their bewildering array of forms and uses, are worthy of a lifetime of study. But they are only tools, after all, and tools are what we use to make our lives better, and our lives are always better when we love one another. So learn to tie a bow, and tie it “around a small box,” to give to someone you love.

 

Our final Honorable Mention is very honorable indeed, sufficiently so that I will be giving him his own platform this Friday morning. Look for “In Praise of the Star Knot. Bring a hanky.

 

To see how I like to tie knots, including many of the ones above, visit our Online Store. “25 Knots” is the DVD, “The Rigger’s Apprentice” is the book. Lots of other fabulous rig-related merchandise there.

As always, I invite you to comb through all of the past articles and puzzles in my Blog. Subscribe below to get notifications of future posts.

 

Fair leads,

Brion Toss

 

 

 

Depose the Bowline, Update

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Our search for the best non-Bowline knot has received a gratifying degree of response, and there is still time for you to state your preference. An entry qualifies you to win an autographed copy of Wendy Hinman’s best seller, Sea Trials.

You can read about the rules for the contest Here.

So far, the Figure-8, Zeppelin Bend, Clove Hitch, a variety of Trucker’s Hitches, as well as many other knots all have champions, from a wide array of tyers, afloat and ashore. If one of the knots mentioned is also your favorite, send in your entry anyway; we will be judging the reasoning behind your choice at least as much as the knot itself. Who’s we? A colorful panel, including a TV-star treehouse builder, the author of a book on sailmaking, the head of our local maritime center, and others of discerning taste and/or wide repute, as well as yours truly. We are all ready to be convinced that your knot is the best knot.

Send your colorful, compelling entry to Puzzle The drawing is at noon Pacific Time, Monday, May 14th. The winner will be selected that night, after a long and acrimonious debate over pizza and beer, and announced on Wednesday, May 16th.

If you are looking for some reading, you might enjoy How to Circumcise a Whale, or any other of an increasing number of stories and puzzles in my Blog.

Fair leads,

Brion Tos

 

How to Circumcise a Whale

Heinrich had no sense of humor. I mean literally, he was missing any trace of a sense of humor. He was a solid, reliable deckhand, and not unintelligent, but in our boisterous, fun-loving crew he stood out like a Baptist in a dance hall.

When he talked he sounded just like Henry Kissinger, only without the lilt and vitality. He was the living, breathing, stereotypical manifestation of a staid, rigid, earnest German man.

This was something of an embarrassment to the other Germans in the crew, and they worked assiduously to kindle a spark of joviality in Heinrich’s phlegmatic soul. Seeing this, the American and British deckhands joined in; the whole crew embarked on the task to Wake Heinrich Up. We arranged pranks, like imitating him, in his presence. All of us. All day. The hope was that he would see how dreary he looked and sounded, but he didn’t seem to notice, and we got exhausted trying to behave like him.

We made sure he was present on movie nights, and obtained the most raucous, slapstick titles available. He was bored by everything but the credits.

We played tricks on him, wrote skits, sang silly songs. Nothing.

Eventually we thought, wait, we are making this too complicated. Let’s start with basics. Let’s just try telling him some jokes, the simpler the better. The Germans tried first, and some of their attempts were Zen-hilarious. I remember one in particular:

A skeleton walks into a bar. The bartender says, “What’ll you have?”

The skeleton replies, “ A beer, and a mop and bucket.” This joke was funny even when I heard it in German, and I don’t speak German. But Heinrich just thought it was a sensible thing for the skeleton to do.

We tried telling jokes in English, starting with why the chicken crossed the road, and realized before we had even finished the setup that the answer was going to be far too meta for Heinrich. Which it was.

We tried sex jokes, cowboy jokes, lawyer jokes. We told of how numerous priests, rabbi’s and preachers walked into assorted bars, all for nothing, because humor is about things that begin by seeming one way, and unexpectedly turn out to be another, and Heinrich could never catch the shift. Life, to him, was a matter of putting one foot predictably in front of the other.

We had just about given up on him, when one day one of the Brits asked him, “Hey Heinrich, how do you circumcise a whale?” A group of us were gathered on the focs’le head deck, on a sunny, lazy morning. We all groaned, partly because this is an ancient and groanworthy joke, and partly because we knew that Heinrich was going to respond, “Why would I want to circumcise a whale?” Which he did. But then someone else said, a little exasperated, “No, see, this is how this kind of joke works. It starts with a silly question. That’s the setup. Then you, Heinrich, say “I don’t know,” and repeat the question, and then you get the punch line, and it’s funny.”

“Okay,” said Heinrich, “That sounds, uh, reasonable. Go ahead.”

So with no real hope, the Brit repeated, “Heinrich, how do you circumcise a whale?”

And Heinrich replied, “I do not know. How do you circumcise a whale?”

And the Brit said, “Four skin divers.”

There was a long moment of silence. Nobody moved. Then we heard a sound like a nail being pulled slowly out of wood. It repeated, and we realized Heinrich was laughing, maybe for the first time in his life, and we started laughing too, with tears of joy and relief and gladness for our fellow. After a while he jumped up and said, “I must go and tell someone this joke They will laugh.” So he ran down to the foredeck, and down the scuttle to the crew’s mess, with us in hot pursuit. He slid in next to a crewmember who was eating breakfast and said, “How do you circumcise a whale?”

She paused with her spoon halfway to her mouth, put the spoon down, looked at him, and said, “I don’t know, Heinrich, how do you circumcise a whale?”

He hesitated a moment, then replied, “Three frogmen.”

 

 

 

The events described above took place in 1985 or so. Since that time I have occasionally heard someone tell the primary joke about foreskin four skin divers – not surprising, as it is an old standby – but I have also heard of other  people making similar mistakes in the retelling. It’s the only joke I can think of that is even better when you get it wrong.

 

If you enjoyed this article, you can sign up to get posting notifications for future pieces. Just scroll to the bottom of this page. To browse the now-sizable backlog of articles and puzzles, just go to the Blog section of our site.

We put up a new puzzle every other week, and our current one is a hot topic, dealing with worthwhile knots that are not Bowlines. Lots of enthusiastic opinions so far, and I look forward to seeing yours. To join in the fun, see Depose the Bowline. The prize for the winner, by the way, is an autographed copy of Sea Trials. Talk about a hot topic, this book is on several book-of-the-year lists, and is a best-seller, too. And with good reason. To learn more about the book, and its adventurous author, visit wendyhinman.com.

Be sure to wander around our Store, and take a look at some of our rigging tools, books, CD’s, services, and more.

Fair leads,

Brion Toss

 

 

 

 

Puzzle Contest: Depose the Bowline

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This week’s Puzzle will be a little different: instead of asking you some tricky rigging question, I want you to convince me that you have the best answer to the following:

What is the best knot? The Bowline is called the King of Knots, but it has its limitations, and  might be overrated. So what other knot would you nominate as a usurper? What other knot do you think is the most valuable, versatile, important knot? It need not have the same function as a Bowline, or any function at all. It is the knot that you think would make the world a measurably better place if only more people knew about it, a knot that, in your mind, deserves fame and glory.

It can be some currently obscure arborist’s complication, or an undeservedly unknown theater knot, or it might be already well-known, afloat and ashore, but not well-known enough to suit you. Tell us about it! Sell it! Send pictures, or links to videos, if you like! The answers will be reviewed by a panel of experts, amateurs, and hangers-on. Entries will be judged on eloquence, ferocity, hilarity, and (utterly subjective) value.

I rarely ask that you make a point of sharing one of my posts, but this time I am making an exception. I’d like to hear from a wide variety of trades and pastimes, from anyone who works with rope. So if you have a neighbor who is a whiz with lashings, or if you know a climber who can work magic with a belay, or any individual or group you can think of who might enjoy promoting a favorite knot, please share this post with them, and urge them to enter.

Send entries to puzzle@briontoss.com by noon Pacific Time, Monday, May 14th. We will announce the winner on Wednesday the 16th.

The winner this time will receive a prize from a special guest presenter, the magnificent Wendy Hinman, author of the award-winning, best-selling Sea Trials: Around the World with Duct Tape and Bailing Wire. If you are a sailor – or even if you are not, but like to read funny/useful/fascinating prose – you should have this book. Here is your chance to win a wittily-inscribed, autographed copy.

On other topics, thanks to everyone who sent in fan mail about last week’s guest post, Difficult Feats, Pointless Tasks, from the lyrical Jacob Haverfield. You’ll be seeing more of Jacob’s work. Meanwhile stand by for another tale from the bark Sea Cloud called “How to Circumcise a Whale.” It comes out on Friday, May 11th.

As always, I recommend that you cruise through our Online Shop, binge-read every single previous Blog Post, and scroll down this page to subscribe to receive notifications of new posts.

Fair Leads,

Brion Toss

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