On a pool lounger, pampering my car wreck injury, I went looking for a
wooden sailboat for sale on Boat Trader and came up with this 38-foot 1952 custom ketch. The photos alone are worth checking out the listing.
Currently in storage with a shrink wrap cover, it’s built of 1 1/4 African Mahogany on oak frames. The deck was replaced in 1988. She’s fit with original varnished sitka spruce spars with stainless steel rigging. The full length mahogany rudder is keel hung. Coverboards and trim are teak. Power is from a Volvo diesel with unknown condition. Ad says it’s offered at a discounted price in hopes an “enthusiastic new owner” will take over. Meaning YOU.
Yours Truly hopes to make another “Surf Director” run to Folly
Beach this week. It’s an easy job: Sit in a big canvas beach chair next to a cooler. In the foreground, my blown out knee. Beyond that, 20 yards of hot sand dotted with bikinis or at least bikini bottoms. Out beyond the bikinis, Malibu Nick will be on a wave or under one. And beyond him, the thin pencil line of my horizon: worlds I left behind and others that await.
It’s good to listen to the sea (aka Jimmy Buffet’s “Mother Ocean”). Usually, we pick up right where we left off. A familiar voice. Familiar dialogue. Familiar points of view. Mother Ocean and I go way back. Splitting up when we did a few years back was a necessary evil (it turned out my first wife, from Cleveland/Philly, absolutely hated “The Sunshine State”). O well.
Malibu Nick’s my brother-in-law. His wife/my sister wants me to bring binoculars for spotting the kind of sharks that eat surfboards and surfers.I’m not going to. That would be spying. What happens on Folly should stay on Folly.
Besides, if a fin or two actually popped up out there, Malibu Nick would never hear me, never see me waving my arms. And it’s not as if I’m going to run up and down the beach upsetting the tourists, not as if I’m going to call in an air strike.
At that point, a trip to the Folly would no longer feel like a day away from the office.
PS: Apparently there’s a band of thieves on the loose disguised as middle-aged housewives from North Dakota…
Now I know what happened to my other sandal last month.
And I owe Malibu Nick an apology –guess it wasn’t him that drank my last two beers.
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If you see me surf directing on Folly, don’t be afraid to stop by. You won’t be interrupting much. You can have a melted peanut butter sandwich. We bring a big bag of them and some peaches too.
TOP CYCLISTS TO COMPETE WITHOUT PINEAPPLE HILL SURF DIRECTOR –Bryant Whines; Says Beach Bike Has Just Three Gears and No Brakes
Spartanburg’s Tim Bryant, Surf Director at PineappleHillSC.com, won’t be joining top cyclists from around the country today as they compete in the 10th annual Spartanburg Regional Health Center Criterium race –and opening event for this Upstate South Carolina town’s Spring Fling festivities.
“What people need to understand is that my bike, a Jamis Earth Cruiser from the 1980s on Jacksonville Beach, is barely ride-able and, besides, I’m gotten so marshmallowy I’m lucky to make it from the top of our hill down to the mailbox and back without spilling my coffee or whatever,” Bryant said. “Besides, I’d have to pump up one of the tires and it’s doubtful I could find the pump in time for the start.”
“Another factor,” he added, “is that much the same as Sammy Hagar’s can’t drive 55′ I just can’t go ’round and ’round on asphalt. It’s just not in my DNA. I have to be on a beach or at least just a few blocks off the beach in a small beach town like Folly, Tybee or Jax. Going in circles on asphalt would drive me crazy and my mind would wander dangerously. I’d space out. An hour or two later, I’d wonder how I ended up in Gaffney.”
Bryant says he wishes all the competitors the best of luck and hopes there’s no hard feelings about sitting out this year. “I’m not a snob or anything like that. They’ll be fine. I have faith in them. I just know they’ll be okay without me. You guys be brave out there and win one for the Gipper.”
Despite nixing the Criterium this year, Bryant says he would consider coming out of retirement for a race featuring rusted out beach bikes where riders balance surfboards one one side and Big Gulp drinks on the other.
“Yeah. I’d be up with that. I’d roll off the pool float for something like that.”