Tag Archives: adventure

Puddle Duck Goose

As my regular readers know I love the Puddle Duck Racer. It’s an ugly but easily built boat that can get you out on the water for a couple of hundred bucks and a couple of weekends worth of work. The web site proclaims: “The PDRacer is a one designe racing sailboat that is basically a plywood box with a curved bottom, and is the easiest boat in the world to build. Free plans, free club. The rules are aimed at keeping the lower 10″ of all hulls the same, but the rest is up to the builder. A simple hull can be made from 3 sheets of plywood, Titebond II glue and latex house paint. If you work hard for two weekends you can go sailing on the 3rd weekend.”

I doubt there is a group of sailors anywhere in the world that have more fun than the owners of these boats. Many have made some remarkable voyages in the Texas 200 the last couple of years and no matter what kind of boats the other participants of the 200 are sailing it seems everyone pulls for the little guys.

Back on October 22 I wrote about a “cruising” version of the boat and suggested that I thought the PDR Goose would be more suitable for a minimalist, easily built inexpensive boat. I did not, however, explain what the Goose was.

The PDR Goose is a stretched-out 12′ version of the PDR and it’s fast building its own following. The Racer has a Yahoo site for its devotees,http://groups.yahoo.com/group/pdracer the Goose recently formed one, too: http://groups.yahoo.com/group/pdgoose/ Unlike the PDRacer, the Goosers (oooooo, that tickles) do not want  the boat to become a racing class. They’ll leave that to the one-design class PDRacer. Hey, the boats are cheap and there’s no reason you couldn’t have one of each. The advantage of the larger Goose is that you can more comfortably take along additional crew on your adventures.

This morning in one of my favorite boating blog sites, Duckworks, there was a post in the next-to-last article giving a link to several YouTube videos of a completed Goose under sail. While  the Duck is rather clunky having a length to beam ratio of only 2:1 at 4’X8′ but the elongated Goose is 3:1 at 4’X12′. Not only does it look good it seems to sail great as seen here.

And it will get up and plane:

To see more videos of this nice craft underway click this link:

http://www.youtube.com/results?search_query=pdgoose&aq=f

Plans can be downloaded from Duckworks here: http://www.duckworksbbs.com/plans/storer/pgr/index.htm. A good story with lots of photos on the building of a Goose.


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Filed under homemade boats, Microcruising, Minimalist Cruising, PDGoose, Puddle Duck Goose, Puddle Duck Racer, sailboats, sailing, Small boat cruising, Small Sailboats

Minimalist PDR Cruiser

Any regular reader of this blog knows I have a real soft spot in my heart for the Puddle Duck Racer.  Naturally it was only a matter of time before someone expanded on the concept and turned one into a minimalist cruising reality. Probably the first to do it was Jason Nabors, who built the Tenacious Turtle which he entered in the epic Texas 200. Not really a race but more of a “cruise” up through the semi-protected waters along the Texas coast.

A bit crude in its execution and jarring to the eyes of anyone who loves classic boat lines as I do, I still thought it was one of the neatest things I’d ever seen.

Of course the Aussies couldn’t leave the simple PDR well enough alone and came up with the OZ PDR which is a bit flashier than the original. Now,Perttu Korhonen, in collaboration with Michael Storer who came up with the OZ design, has come up with the Ocean Explorer. No offense, Jim, but this one really has a chance of taking off.

Plans for building this wonderful little boat are available at Duckworks for $40 US. The set which is downloadable in PDF form from the above link consist of around 95 pages of drawings, photos and text which should provide you snow-bound dreamers with plenty to ponder this winter and hopefully kick-start you to build one yourself. You can get more photos here: www.woodworkforums.com/f169/ultimate-cruising-pdr-120306/

Personally I think I’d want to use these plans as an inspiration for modifying the  PDR Goose, the expanded 12′ version of the original 8-footer. It would allow you more room for supplies and, possibly, a companion.

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A Stroll Around Dolega, Panama

In a little more than two months I will have to leave this delightful location in Potrerillos Arriba.

The owners will be back and I have started to consider where to go next. I may try to find another house sitting gig but I might also just start renting somewhere. My original plan on moving to Panama was to build a houseboat and settle down in the Bocas del Toro archipelago. That’s still a possibility but that dream, for many reasons, is starting to fade.

I know I don’t want to move to Panama City. If I wanted to live somewhere with high rise buildings surrounded by people speaking Spanish I would have just stayed in southeast Florida. I sometimes think of trying one of the beach communities on the Pacific Ocean an hour or two west of Panama City.

But, quite frankly, I really like it here in Chiriqui province. I like the city of David. It has pretty much everything you could want in the commercial sense: banks, shopping, good transportation and, probably, the best hospitals outside of the capitol. Growing older and carrying around three stents that’s an unfortunate but important consideration.

One of the few advantages of living in Potrerillos Arriba is the climate. At 2,600 feet it’s constantly Spring time. Right now, at 9:00 a.m. it’s 76F. In Fort Lauderdale it’s 82 and predicted to top out in the low 90s whereas we’re predicted to hit a hair above 78. Down in David, though, you get the hot and sultry temperatures one would expect situated only a little more than eight degrees north of the equator. It’s 80 there now and expected to hit a heat-indexed high of nearly 90 degrees.

I am lucky to have had the opportunity to live here just as I had the good fortune to live on the French Riviera. But Potrerillos Arriba is a bit too isolated for me to want to stay. There’s not much to do here so I’m going to move. I DON’T want to go to Boquete which so many publications lately have been touting as one of the best places to retire in the world. I don’t want to move there precisely for that reason. I have an aversion to such hyped up places. I also don’t want to move down into David itself. It’s not the heat and humidity. I can deal with that having lived in Fort Lauderdale for the previous 17 years. One of the big downsides of David is they often have a real problem with water. Last week, for instance, more than half the city didn’t have any for several days which is a sad state of affairs for a city with a population of about 150,000. It seems that all the rain we’ve been having up here along with the collapse of a dam being built for hydroelectric production below the town of Dolega caused silting problems at the water plant which was shut down and the spare parts needed to repair it had to come from Germany. Not a good situation.

I’ve been thinking about the possibility of trying to find a place to rent in Dolega, which is about half way between where I am now and David.

It’s certainly not a major metropolitan area but it has a bit more to offer than Potrerillos. First of all, transportation is better which is a major concern for someone without a car. Up here a bus comes by about once an hour. I just missed one last week meaning I had to wait another hour. Fortunately I always bring my iPod along with me so I spent it sitting in the sun listening to a book I’d downloaded from Audible.com. In Dolega buses leave from the terminal about every ten minutes making getting back and forth much more convenient. There are several small grocery stores in the town as well as several hardware stores and at least three internet cafes.

Yesterday I took a stroll around Dolega and this is how it looked to me.

Off of the main road that leads down to David there is often a rural feeling.

Most of the houses are middle-class and would fit right in to many southeast Florida communities.

While there are McMansions to be found on the road up to Potrerillos Arriba and around Boguete, there are houses in Dolega that seem to subscribe to the tiny house philosophy taking root in the States.

Many houses here in Panama, especially those owned by the less affluent, not only are small in size but it’s common to only paint the side of the house facing the road.

And most people in Dolega still dry their laundry the old fashioned way.

It’s common for people to keep chickens around their homes. When I have my morning cup of coffee as the sun comes up I hear roosters crowing from all points of the compass.

The majority of houses here in Panama are built with concrete block since termites are a huge problem and wood houses are nothing more than food. But that doesn’t mean they don’t exist.

This one seems to have been abandoned quite some time ago.

Because it’s only 900 feet above sea level Dolega is noticeably hotter than Potrerillos Arriba. Much more like David, but scattered around town are tiendas where you can stop and get a cold soft drink or a beer to go.

There were also shaded places alongside streams flowing through the town offering a nice respite from the heat.

Some have benches beside the water; a good place to sit and contemplate how wonderful life can be.

If you’re looking for something more active, Dolega features a very nice baseball stadium.

Baseball is extremely popular in Panama as it is wherever Americans have been an influential part of a country’s life: Japan, Cuba, the Dominican Republic and here. There are several players from Panama playing in  major league teams in the U.S, Carlos Ruiz plays for the Phillies, Manano Rivera wears Yankee pinstripes, and Carlos Lee for the Astros just to name three. The big newspapers in Panama carry MLB stories, scores and standings and cities throughout the Republic have stadiums and very good teams. Panama’s own version of the World Series is as closely followed as any World Cup Soccer matches. This year the Panama City Metros whipped Bocas del Toro in four games.

There was a Little League game going on when I stopped by the stadium. The little guy at bat is the catcher for his team and made a world-class catch of a foul ball while on his back a few minutes earlier to end the inning. I wish I’d gotten a picture of that. Good stance, no?

Naturally, soccer is HUGE here. The reason it’s so popular around the world is that there really is only ONE piece of equipment needed…a ball. Lots of things can delineate the goal: a pair of rocks, a couple of wadded up tee shirts, whatever the mind can imagine. I’ve seen a lot of small courts around for pick-up soccer games like this one. And if they get tired of kicking the ball they can throw it through the hoops.


This play area is at the bottom end of a nice park with benches around the edge. There were several groups of older men gathered to solve the world’s problems in case the church at the other end of the park isn’t able to.

As I was heading back to the bus stop several of the men on the benches moved along with me and headed to the jardin as I did for a cold sixty cent bottle of Panama beer.

Though you can’t really tell what it is in this picture, just behind the car there is an arena for cock fighting. I asked one of the men at the bar when the fights were held and there was one last night. I seems they are a weekly occurrence here.

I finished my beer and then sat across from this bus stop to wait for my ride back home.

Avicola Athenas is a huge agricultural corporation that supplies much of the province’s poultry and beef. Their main headquarters is about two kilometers below me. There’s a very small market there with excellent prices for, surprise, chicken. On the outside wall of their restaurant for the workers is a sign stating that a blending of capitalism and socialism is the best combination for peace and prosperity.

Most of the bus shelters in the area are “sponsored” by one or another corporate entity such as Avicola, Citrico and large citrus grower or one or another of the cell phone providers like Digicel.

I quite like Dolega and in the next few weeks will be seeing what might be available to rent come November.

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Learning A New Language

Having retired to Panama I’m having to deal with learning a new language. My third, actually. And while it’s a challenge it’s quite fun.

Yesterday I stumbled upon a blog by a French girl living in Australia describing the challenges she’s facing dealing with a new language. Now, Australian is sort of English in the same way the language of the U.S. is sort of English. They both derive from the same roots but each has veered off slightly and have become distinct in their own ways.

Also, yesterday I stumbled across this post in Bits and Pieces which came from A Public Flogging and there’s no telling where he might have appropriated it from. But I think it’s hilarious and is a good example of what people go through when they travel outside their linguistic comfort zone.

In 1965, in a noble attempt to help the rest of us understand Australians, Alistair Morrison published Let Stalk Strine, a glossary of terms used Down Under:

air fridge: average
bandry: boundary
dismal guernsey: decimal currency
egg nishner: air conditioner
garbler mince: a couple of minutes
marmon dead: Mom and Dad
rise up lides: razor blades
sag rapes: sour grapes
split nair dyke: splitting headache
stewnce: students
tiger look: take a look

“Aorta mica laura genst all these cars cummer ninner Sinny. Aorta have more buses. An aorta put more seats innem so you doan tefter stan aller toym — you carn tardly move innem air so crairded.”

The book went through 17 impressions in one year, a sign the problem had gotten completely out of hand. Just a few months before it appeared, the English author Monica Dickens had been signing copies of her latest book in a Sydney shop when a woman handed her a copy and said, “Emma Chisit.” Dickens inscribed the volume “To Emma Chisit” and handed it back. “No,” said the woman, leaning forward: “Emma Chisit?”

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Lunch or Dinner?

Here’s a scary photo and it’s NOT photoshopped, either. Once again found on Duckworks, one of the really great sites for and about boats.

That kayaker is actually in the mouth of the whale who is feeding. Read the whole story. Apparently the man wasn’t injured in the incident.

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Señor Richard’s Excellent Adventure

The other day I met Jim “Jet” Nielson, holder of four world land speed records and getting ready to try for a fifth here in David on June 6th  hoping to set a fifth at 500 mph. I’ll be writing more about him in coming days. Jim is a longtime friend of my friend Frank Hilson who, himself, was an up and coming race car driver in the Sterling Moss era until a horrible, fiery crash ended his career. Frank was the one who pointed me in Jim’s direction.

Jim is also a sailor. He grew up in Hawaii and at the age of 19 was delivering boats that participated in the TransPac races back to the States. He said he had a trimaran in the Port of Pedrigal only a short drive from David. I was down there on my last trip and decided, yesterday, to go scope out Jim’s boat.

Before leaving the States I bought a chip for my GPS with Panama maps. For some reason it wouldn’t accept Pedregal as a destination. So I went to Google earth, got the Lat/Long coordinates and entered those and received routing. The instructions told me to go to the end of the street where the hostel is located and hang a left. It directed me through a few city streets and within 15 minutes I was at the marina. During the drive I spotted several decent looking restaurants and thought I’d go have supper there. Now, I love eating at the tiny restaurant across from the hostel but their menu is extremely limited. A whole fried fish ($5), a fillet of fish ($3), and the best sopa de mariscos (seafood soup) ($2.25) I’ve had in all of Panama to date. But my mouth was telling me it wanted to taste some shrimp that evening.

Dinner time arrived and when I turned on the GPS I went to the “coordinates” and hit “Go” without verifying them. I figured they had to be the same, right? Wrong.

When I got to the end off the street this time it told me to turn right instead of left. Okay, a different route. I drove and drove through city streets I’d never been on, but who knows, right? Wrong. No more street lights and the road narrows every kilometer. Eventually the pavement ends. Now I’m on a dirt road but the checkered flag indicating the destination is visible up in the upper left corner of the screen. The dirt road kept deteriorating with huge rocks and pot holes filled with rain water. Even a four wheel drive would have been going along at the five kilometer per hour pace. The map indicated that the road would be making a couple of switch backs on itself and then I came to a huge iron gate with a massive chain and padlock. Nothing to do but turn around and go back the way I came.

When I finally made it back to the paved road I pulled over, plugged in for the destination for the airport. The road to Pedregal is right along side the runway. In under five minutes I knew where I was. I stopped at the “Mar y Mariscos” (Sea and Seafood) restaurant where I had Camarones Criolla (Creole shrimp) which was delicious. The waiter gave me the 25% Jubilado discount without my asking for it, too. I love Panama.

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The Hostel Experience

Practically everyone I know would hate the hostels I stay at. Most of them are pretty much dumps but the thing that makes them enjoyable, besides the fact that they’re cheaper by at least half than hotels, is the variety of people who patronize them. They’re especially popular with the young back packer set, but others stay as well. In hotels you really don’t get the opportunity to meet and interact with the other guests the same way you do staying in a hostel.

Last night the crowd here in David threw a barbecue. When the fish monger (great word, monger) came to the restaurant across the street some of the guests here went over and bought four beautiful, corvinas (sea bass) for less than five dollars a piece. They also went out and bought steaks, chicken and corn on the cob and then cooked it on the huge grill near the swimming pool. It was a United Nations of hostel stayers ranging in age from their early 20s to myself in my late 60s with some 40s and 50s mixed in. There were people from the States, Poland, Austria, Australia, China, Panama, Argentina, Costa Rica and Slovenia.

One of the three Gringos was a Chinese guy from Toronto who lives and works in Springfield, Mass. He was riding his BICYCLE through Panama with a final destination of Texas. Robert is 41 years old and has cycled in a lot of countries, including Pakistan (which he said was the worst place) France, Spain and England. He’s cycled across Canada and the U.S. from coast to coast and his ultimate goal is to be able to say he’s biked around the world.

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New Dylan Winter Web Site

As readers of this blog know, I have featured quite a few of Dylan Winter’s videos of his trip around England in his 19 foot boat. I have also been fortunate to have been in sporadic email correspondence with Mr. Winter who has not only done his bit on the water, but once bought a couple of horses and trekked across much of the western part of the United States with them.

Recently he sent me an email telling me he had a new web site: www.keepturningleft.co.uk. and asked me for my opinion on how it worked. Well, as with everything I’ve seen from this gentleman, it’s superb, and well worth the time for any of my readers to spend their time on clicking and viewing his work.

I especially like the videos that feature the different boats found over there. So many of them reflect the long nautical tradition of England and are either restored working craft of boats patterned after long-established designs.

This is a great place to spend a cold wintry afternoon or an evening when those three hundred channels on the telly have absolutely nothing worth watching. Dylan Winter’s videos certainly are worth the time.

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Filed under boats, Classic Boats, cruising, Microcruising, Sail, sailboats, sailing, Small boat cruising

Time Slips Away

Last weekend they held the 35th Fort Lauderdale to Key West Race. Thirty five years ago I was part of the crew on Rainbow, a 65-foot long Cheoy Lee ketch, taking part in the Inaugural race.

Rainbow is the biggest boat in the picture.

To this day it is still one of the most exciting things I ever did.

Rainbow was, I believe, the last all-custom built boat Choey Lee made. It had a steel hull, aluminum deck house and two beautifully varnished wood masts. It was definitely not a racing boat, but the owner, Charles Scripps of the  Scripps publishing family wanted to do the race for the fun of doing it and for the party in Key West afterwards. I was invited along as crew because the mate on the boat was the first captain I had ever worked for a couple of years earlier. The fact was that the entire crew, with the exception of Mr. Scripps and his son Charlie, were professional sailors.

We started off well on a sunny Friday morning, but since it was a cruising boat and not a racer we weren’t fairing well. It was a laborious beat every few minutes between the north-flowing Gulf Stream and the shore. By the time we  reached Fowey Rock in Miami all of the other boats in our class were over the horizon and most of the smaller boats in the fleet were ahead of us as well.

In the middle of the afternoon the predicted cold front reached us and the wind shifted from south easterlies into the west and clocking into the northwest. We were now on a beam reach and we started to truck. We began to pass the smaller boats ahead of us with the lee rail awash. As it began to grow dark we tucked the first reef into the main sail but left the huge genny flying and hurtling us through the water like a locomotive.

After a terrific hot meal cooked on a gimbaled stove and served on a gimbaled table the four-hour watches were set and the off watch retired below to catch a few winks. I was assigned to the boss’s watch. About five years earlier I’d turned down a job opportunity with his now-defunct Hollywood Sun-Tattler newspaper. As I stood in the cockpit with the wheel vibrating like a living thing beneath my hands I told the gentleman who could have won, hands down, any Ernest Hemingway look-alike contest, that I’d turned down the job and thought it was the best decision I’d ever made.

“What do you mean by that?” he said looking at me over the top of his wire-rimmed half moon glasses.

“Well, just think of the thousands of people who work for you on your newspapers, radio and television stations and United Press International. Every one of them would crawl through broken glass just to have the chance to sit on this boat tied up at the dock. I turned the job down and here I am driving the thing.”

Sometime shortly after midnight a cannon shot roused those of us below out of our sleep. It was a quick scramble into our foul weather gear and within minutes we were on deck where we saw the huge genoa torn to shreds and snapping like pistol shots in the winds that were gusting up to 35 knots and more. In the couple of minutes it took to comprehend the situation the #2 genny was already being hauled out and we jumped into the foredeck to remove the destroyed sail.

The temperature and dropped by more than 4o degrees since the start of the race and with the wind chill it felt like it was in the 20s. The bow would drop into a wave and the warm water would flood the fore deck up to our necks, those of us on our knees clutching at the flailing pieces of sail and working hard to open the hanks to remove it from the fore stay. And as we struggled furiously the bow would rear high into the air and the cold, arctic wind would hit us and we couldn’t wait until we descended into the warmth of the water once more. In no time the sail was down and the new one was hanked on and other crew members were churning away at the halyard winch to raise the replacement.

In all, the old sail was down and the new one flying in less than five minutes.

Back in the cockpit the on-watch crew said that they had passed five boats in the previous three hours, and the number grew as the night wore on.

In the morning as we turned into the ship channel at Key West we blew out the #2 genoa as well and in short order the working jib was raised in its place.

When we were tied up at the dock we found out we were the fifth boat over the line at the end and we had passed up 15 boats altogether. Ted Turner, yes THAT Ted Turner, who had recently successfully defended the America’s Cup, came over and shook all of our hands. He said he was glad the race wasn’t another hundred miles longer because, “Nobody would have seen you guys.”

It was something I’ll never forget…the race or the party that followed. Sunday morning I woke up on a pile of sail bags on a boat I’d never been on before and didn’t recognize a soul aboard who were in about the same condition as I was.

Fourteen years later I sat at a table on a beautiful 96 foot Bruce Roberts ketch having lunch with Mr. Scripps once again after not having seen him in the previous 13 years. He asked if I’d like to “go live in France for six months or so.” He had an 85 foot sailboat over on the French Riviera in Antibes, between Cannes and Nice, that needed a captain. I believe you can find that story in earlier posts on this blog. Those “six months or so” ended up being nearly three years in France and getting to sail the boat across the Atlantic and the job ended up with a tenure of three and a half years.

Thirty five years since that first Fort Lauderdale to Key West Race. Where did all those years go?

Trivia question: Who on the stage is a Rhodes Scholar?

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Another Dylan Winter Video

It’s been too long since I’ve posted anything nautical here. I get caught up so easily in the music I love. It’s appropriate that I go back to Dylan Winter and his trip around England in a 19′ sailboat.  Here he is taking off for another leg of his trip early on what looks to be a chilly morning. Getting underway is always one of the delightful parts of boating. Cutting loose from the land. Getting the boat back into its natural element and original purpose. The anticipation of the adventures to come, and those adventures don’t have to be high winds and heavy seas.  Adventure can come simply and quietly exploring quiet secluded gunkholes and those moments are often the most memorable.

You might notice that as he’s departing the port he’s leaving the red markers to starboard. The Brits don’t use the “red right returning” rule of the U.S. but then again those buggers drive on the wrong side of the road, too.

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