Photo Credit: The Rigging Company (http://theriggingco.com)

I spent last weekend at the Miami Boatshow where I got to meet a few of the lovely folks from SAIL, critique my father's seminars and crash a couple of expensive-looking parties. Oh and I even found time for a quick look around the show. The focus was mainly powerboats and megayachts, with a small 'Strictly Sail' satellite where I spent most of my time. While there I had a productive chat with John Franta, owner of Colligo Marine and the guy who did my synthetic rigging. I've written about my rig a couple times and though it's about time for another update that can wait. What I'm interested in at the moment, and was talking to John about, are synthetic lifelines.

We are almost four weeks into our temporary time ashore, and what, you may ask, are our cultural sticking points?  Is it that we haven't heard of a single film/singer/celebrity which has cropped up in the past two years?  Are the girls ridiculed for not owning an iPad?  Do we feel strange about our (often-commented-on) Canadian accents? 

No.  Our biggest problem is, "good morning."  More accurately, the lack thereof.

Years ago, Erik worked in Switzerland.  I went to visit him one summer, and, among the cultural instruction he gave me regarding the language ("you won't understand it,") and transportation ("learn to ride a bicycle without killing anyone,") he included the command: "You must say hello to people as you pass them on the street."

"What do you mean?" I asked.  "Who do I have to say hi to?"

I HAVEN'T SEEN this boat in person, but from the photos on this Craigslist listing it looks to be in very good condition... and the asking price is just $11K! She's got recent Awlgrip on her topsides, a recently rebuilt freshwater-cooled Atomic-4 engine, a new water tank, a new prop, and a new stuffing box. Looks like an excellent deal for an offshore-capable boat.

So Clark has been telling you all about how the US Coast Guard can trample all over your 4th amendment rights, and doing a great job either scaring the cr*p out of you, or pissing you off, or both.

If this story about the Department Of Homeland Security is true, then we should all go to even greater extremes of anger and paranoia (and we can see where the Coast Guard takes its lead). When I see this sort of thing I can only conclude that the terrorists won, by shredding our Constitution and somehow getting us all to accept it.

Read the full story, but here is the nub of it (note: "Buddy" is the name the prospective boat owner had taken to calling the boat he bought):

Buddy has to clear customs, part of the DHS, since she was built in Canada.
My job was to show up and sign forms and then leave with Buddy (WA sales tax and registration fees come a week later).

DHS takes documents supplied by the builder and creates a government form that includes basic information about the boat, including the price.

The primary form, prepared by the government, had an error. The price was copied from the invoice, but DHS changed the currency from Canadian to U.S. dollars.

It has language at the bottom with serious sounding statements that the information is true and correct, and a signature block.

I pointed out the error and suggested that we simply change the currency from US $ to CAD $ so that is was correct. Or instead, amend the amount so that it was correct in U.S. dollars.

I thought this was important because I was signing it and swearing that the information, and specifically the price, was correct.

The DHS agent didn’t care about the error and told me to sign the form anyway. “It’s just paperwork, it doesn’t matter,” she said. I declined.

She called another agent and said simply “He won’t sign the form.” I asked to speak to that agent to give them a more complete picture of the situation. She wouldn’t allow that.

Then she seized the boat. As in, demanded that we get off the boat, demanded the keys and took physical control of it.

So there you have it. Your modern, post-9/11, security state in action. Any questions?

There are a few sailing events around the globe that seem designed to make everyone who is not there feel waves of envy and rage. Like the St. Barths Bucket Regatta. Or the Newport-Bermuda Race. And especially the newcomer to this class, the RORC Caribbean 600. It's a breezy 600-mile, warm weather, warm water, tour of the Leeward Islands, from Anguilla in the north to Guadeloupe in the south. And all the prettiest toy boats show up.

Just a look at the start highlights is enough to make me want to tear down my cubicle and become an investment banker:

One of the boats that has had this thing figured out from the start, and made repeat appearances, is the

There's lots more to report on from the Miami show, but partially installing a Maretron DCR100 Direct Current Relay on Gizmo just got me so excited I want to share. This boat has never had switches for running and flood lights on the fly bridge -- especially annoying when I wanted to light myself up when crossing paths with a possibly unaware stranger -- and it didn't have a switch for the new bow LED spot at all (to be explained). Now for relatively little effort and expense, I'll not only have switching at both helms but also be able to monitor and even alarm on real-time circuit currents. The installation isn't complete but I'm fairly confident that Gizmo will trek north with that often-cited feature of digital switching, an immediate warning if any one of the four incandescent running light bulbs blows. Plus I got to experience the beauty of NMEA 2000 Labeling, a feature that Maretron has trail blazed but which will hopefully become common across brands...

There’s a pretty good north-west wind blowing through town right now, dragging some cool air down with it (I love that I live in a place where 79 degrees can be considered cool) and emptying the beaches of all but people with kids who just want to get outside and don’t give a crap what the weather is doing.