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is the name of Pamela Talese’s show (til end of October) at Atlantic Gallery at 135 W 29th Street Suite 601 in Manhattan. Pamela and I share some large interests . . . like her take on Alice Oldendorff and
Hers of Penobscot Bay, now
gearing up for ice-breaking duty, and mine.
Charleston, being painted in dry dock and
fotograffed in KVK.
Pamela has worked in cold weather and
and warm to
capture the ubiquitous
changes wrought by rust and paint . . . in paint. Below, she travels to her “studio” via the paintcycle.
A description of people along the waterfront in the first chapter of Moby Dick omits a class; Melville mentions some ”posted like silent sentinels all around the town, stand thousands upon thousands of mortal men fixed in ocean reveries. Some leaning against the spiles; some seated upon the pier-heads; some looking over the bulwarks . . .” To do the unthinkable of completing Melville, my annotation here: ”still others women as well as men devoted to the arts, brush in hand, gazing in turn at ship and then at canvas . . or notebook, then searching with paints or inks or charcoal . . . ” Go Pamela. Go others! I love it. More waterfront art soon.
He: (stretching after much needed nap) Oooo. Let me quick recall that dream! The meaning’s in vu. [See end of post.]
Parrot: (from perch near bed) What? Atchooo!
Knowing where to start in this story . . . well, it eludes me. It’s a story, like so many, of a journey on water, a physical undertaking some do daily in the context of work or play, but others–wishing they might–do so as often as possible, either aboard a vessel or in a daydream. A ship Flinterduin arrived on September 2. The next day, after a dozen barges were offloaded, the ship edged forward, and the first gorgeous barges escaped into the sixth boro. To contain them would have felt like herding cats (in current parlance); actually a better phrase might be . . . like corralling gamesome goslings. ”Goslings” also works for me: my mother, despite her frustrated artist’s spirit, used to draw ducks and geese to amuse me as a kid; the wings on her birds–I now understand–looked a lot like the leeboards she saw growing up along the Rhine! Got it, Ma.
On September 14ish, after a rollicking departure party at Atlantic Basin, the fleet headed upriver. Note the cutter proposing to serve as escort in the backgound. I had land duties that kept me from following this fleet on its upriver journey, but no easy feat would be escorting a frolicksome fleet of Dutch folk.
As an example of a carefree Dutch attitude: my brother-in-lawish Wil at Rockaway Beach last summer to swim. After swimming, I said, “Wanna change? Bathrooms are there” and pointed to enclosures 100 feet away. Let me add that Wil is a responsible man, appropriately . . . a hydrologist. With him and me were his wife and two teenage sons. As he turned toward the horizon, dropped his trunks, and pulled on his pants, he said, “Thanks. I’ll change right here.” Yeah . . . why not, I thought, listening to him laugh. As I said, unrestrained. Free of silly protocols. In the Netherlands, no one’d be wearing swim suits anyhow.
When the fleet reached Peekskill, Reiner Sjipkens entertained the crowds on shore, as he had previous in Red Hook Brooklyn. Click on his name to hear the music.
And crowds visited the journeying flotilla.
On October 3, this bulk carrier headed past the Battery. Interesting color scheme but otherwise non-descript. Time for something.
By Monday morning, October 5, the ship was docked in Albany and some of the flotilla sidled up; their blithe journey,
It looks like stepping masts. See you later . . . Fugel Frij.
Windroos, leaves next. Seeing these fotos makes me think of the Paul Simon song: 50 Ways to Leave . . .
Me too, hop on the bus, Gus?
Anyone identify the tug here or in the foto a couple up? Answer below.
On Oct 7, headed past Hudson Light, Flinterborg of the nine masts passes bulk carrier Atlantic Arrow, close
enough to . . . to . . . wave, even holler.
Three or so hours later, the Walkway came into view.
200 plus feet above the bow wave of the ship, Harold conversed and Tugster shot a
a video, below. Hear the ship’s horn at :52, see bow watch wave at 1:15, and see bridge crew wave at 1:28.
Flinterborg, with its load of corralled and eternally youthful goslings, heads south for sea. Note how many bonds are needed to strap the frolicksome fleet in by the homeward leg.
I have so many people to thank for putting together this post: fotos in order . . . Will–first one, Carolina Salguero-next 3, Christina Sun-next 1, Pat Van Alstyne-next 6, Paul Chevalier-next 2, and Dock Shuter-last 3. Videoo by tugster. Many others–Elizabeth, Harold, Jeff, Kaya, Chesley, Dan, Joe, Hetteke, Arjen, Jan, Margaret, Laura, Capt. Frank, Alex, Carter, and Bernie–helped out in behind-the-scenes ways. I am so thankful. Blame my tired brain if I’ve left you’re name out.
Meaning: Unlike commutes or tourist trips, journeys sometimes fill the traveller and proxies with insights. One insight aka “take-away” from the past 6 weeks or so for me is that blogging about the journey of these mariners has fostered the creation of a fantastic ad hoc community. This isn’t a commercial venture, but as an alliance of folks based both on water and on land we can exert power and influence we don’t have individually. Why power? To call attention to what’s ignored, to disseminate info that languishes, to connect with like-minded folks we otherwise could not find common ground with. To communicate about what mainstream media don’t.
Since the sixth boro (the waters surrounded by New York City and some New Jersey towns, and in turn surrounding all the coastal places on the planet) IS our common ground element, I hereby propose that : we think of ourselves as–for want of a name “the sixth boro confederation,” a loose and adhoc and non-partisan alliance of people who either work on or identify as invested in the harmonious use of the waters and their margins for the great good of the greatest number of us. No matter nationality, mariners both on the water and those currently ashore have always journeyed and disseminated goods, people, and ideas. Viva the sixth boro confederation. Let’s make things happen. Track Flinterborg here: Behouden vaart, Flinterborg.
I’d love to hear your ideas.
Answer to question on tugs in Albany: Kathleen Turecamo upper and Jennifer Turecamo lower.
Hard hat-wearing man in basket watching two heads,
divers beside a tugboat or
two of them, suspended by multiple lines. Where is
this? Irish Sea and Iona McAlister, or so they’re called for now. Why does Iona sport only ONE “l” in McAlister?
They may emerge from this graving dock experience with new names, new colors, and who knows . . .
new shapes . . .
All fotos by Will Van Dorp.
If you’re a new reader, I use “sixth boro” as a way to recognize the city space that IMHO deserves recognition as its own unitary name; without the water, justification for the concentrations in the other five boroughs of New York City would disappear. Hence, all the city water and . . . extensions thereof in all navigable directions I call the sixth boro. Want to go to Fiji or Philly or Fundy . . . follow the sixth boro. I need someone to write a wikipedia entry for the sixth boro.
More Flinterduin offloading fotos here; I’ve got many more if you’re interested. Let’s follow Sydsulver, a steel Lemsteraak built in 2004. Lemster is a location name, so this is an aak from Lemster, like a Brooklynaak. For the record, most of the barges are either aaks or tjalks (pronounced “chaw lick”) . Tjalks were originally used for cargo on inland waterways, and aaks . . . for fishing on the Zuiderzee, now called the IJsselmeer. Double click on fotos to enlarge them.
Note the helmets all around.
I would not have predicted the number of traditional Dutch design “airships” appearing in this blog this year. Captions follow.
How to lead a barge to water.
How to inculcate an interest in sailing among the next generation.
How smooth and polished to get a painted surface. And how to maneuver in tight basins.
Splash. That’s Groenevecht lying to the right.
Carving detail and
The most beautiful tiller ornament in the sixth boro and far beyond.
Held in the basin. Brown sail is HZ108 Janus Kok, a wooden botter from 1934! Botters are traditional fishing vessels also. Design on the sail is the sponsor’s logo, “old amsterdam cheese.” To the right along the wall is Windroos, a hoogaars built in 1925. Now if you know that “hoog” means high . . . as in “up high,” then you can figure out the “ars.” ”Hoogars” vessels have a more upswept stern than aaks, botters, or tjalks. More Windroos to come.
Painted ships in a painted basin.
Flinterduin shifted forward so that the offloaded barges could leave to make space for the rest. Sydsulver leaves first. Notice the decoration around the hawse.
Escape into the boro. You can’t keep the Dutch pinned up long. Everydayeastriver foto’d one of the explorers/escapees.
Again, many thanks to the fine folks at GMD and to Carter Craft for access. The barges will cavort in the sixth boro and surroundings waters for the next month. Some foto ops may happen at North Cove soon, home of Atlantic Yachting, new on my blogroll.
Another newcomer on my blogroll is NY400.blogspot.com, an account of the barges’ month here by Arjen Wapenaar, captain of the Sterre, a tjalk built in 1887!!! English site about Sterre here. Amazingly, Sterre has been in New York harbor before: some 20 plus years ago for the Statue of Liberty celebrations. Scroll through that English-language link and you’ll see Sterre in the harbor with the Twin Towers in the background. Does anyone have pictures to share of that event? I hope Arjen posts lots of fotos so that non-Dutch readers can enjoy his sailing barge tales.
More Flinterduin AND the tug races this weekend. Haven’t they cancelled the US Open because the sixth boro activities draw greater crowds?
All fotos here by Will Van Dorp.
Let’s follow one aak from Flinterduin to the East River. GroeneVecht, built in 1999, hangs in the slings.
Notice the hull lines. Dimensions are roughly 60′ by 20′. Groene means green, and Vecht is the name of a river in Netherlands.
I am fixated on leeboards, you may have noticed before.
Once out of the slings,Groenevecht motoors into a basin for minor up rig and then a wait with
earlier barges offloaded.
Once the flag is secured to the rudder,
she motors past Flinterduin to savor the East River
Much more later. All fotos by will Van Dorp.
Access thanks to Carter Craft and GMD Shipyard. Thanks.
Remember to double click to see full size fotos.
With many thanks to everydayeastriver.tumblr.com . . . welcome Flinterduin! In the next few hours, her cargo will be offloaded, and the sixth boro will see sail and leeboards as it never has before. Amusing though confusing was the counterclockwise victory lap of Governors Island Flinterduin indulged before heading under the southernmost East River bridges on her way to GMD.
More later, but here’s another look at her deckload.
Might there be an as-yet unannounced tugboat race entry down in the hold? And the contest . . . not over yet.
Foto credit here goes to Wilto Eekhof of the city of Sneek in the Netherlands province of Friesland. And I’m crediting him via Koopvaardij as transmitted by SeaBart of Uglyships.com. Flinterduin, below, looks to set of record for masts: a 15-(at least)-masted-power vessel. Here at the Flinter site are pics of the loading of this particular vessel. She currently at sea, bound for the sixth boro. Here are other interesting Flinter vessels.
On or about August 31, this vessel will enter the boro and forever (at least for a while) change the sailscape of the harbor. From it will emerge 20 traditional flat-bottomed sailing barges. Check out all those leeboards; get your cameras ready! Here’s an update foto from sea from Koopvaardij (a publication whose title translates as “merchant marine”). Article includes this sentence: ”Wij wensen kapitein/eigenaar Henk Eijkenaar en zijn bemanning een goede reis en behouden vaart,” which translates as “We wish Captain/owner Henk Eijkenaar and his crew a good trip and a safe voyage.” Amen.
Here’s a link showing Flinterduin’s hold and a view down onto the deck from a bridge over Harlingen harbor. As to the type of traditional vessels contributing to all those masts, SeaBart tells me they are multiple tjalken (plural of “tjalk”), a staverse jol (the English word “yawl” stems from the Dutch “jol” or the German “jolle”), a lemster aak and 2 skutsjes. Here’s another skutsje link.
I’d love to hear from readers who know these specific boats or boat types.
Tugster returns with his own fotos, taken on a most recent gallivant, tomorrow. For more interesting cargoes coming into Duluth from the sea on Flinterduin, Marlene Green, and Margot (both of whom have previously appeared here), click here, then click on “ships” window.
Tangentially related: August 29 . . . Atlantic Salt Maritime Festival.
Robert Juet, in his journal of Henry Hudson’s third voyage, calls the small cannon aboard stone pieces or murderers. Some call the weapon below a gun, meaning the bronze tube or barrel in wooden truck, wooden tampion in muzzle mouth serving as a cork in a bottle to be removed before firing. The two objects that look like heavy-duty beer steins are antique noise-makers called “thunder mugs,” demonstrated in this youtube video.
The end of the rod invisible inside the tube is the rammer; it rams the charge back to the breech. The opposite end made of sheepskin is called the sponge; this wet sponge is used to ensure that no embers remain when the charge is loaded. The rod lying on the table near the gunner’s right hand is called the worm or screw and used to remove debris from the tube after firing.
Onrust will eventually carry these tubes plus four others
mounted on these trucks.
For Onrust launch day these were set up, but without vent holes drilled, they cannot function.
Why is this bollard so strangely shaped?
It’s a repurposed cannon in the Brooklyn Navy Yard. In this case, as weapons systems were upgraded, older tubes were redefined, not scrapped. Like swords beaten into plowshares, these are barrels into bollards.
Memorial Day: it’s about remembering those US military folks who died while fighting for our freedoms. Some may not have wanted to take up arms or fire cannon, may have wanted all barrels turned into bollards or bells, but they fought anyhow, facing the fears, suspending their misgivings, struggling with nuances. That’s eminently worthy of remembering this week and all year.
And back to Juet and Hudson, they did use their cannon on the trip 400 years ago; follow the journey at Henrysobsession, updated biweekly aka halfmoonthly.
All fotos by Will Van Dorp.
Unrelated: See frogma’s slide show of Hudson River pageant here. Looks like warm-up act for Mermaid Parade, less than a month away.
This foto arrived today by USPS mail, and I’m eager to learn details I do not know. I’ll disclose details later. Clearly it’s the East River with stacks where they no longer stand. Just to the left of the Chrysler Building, the skyscraper now known as Met Life still carries the Pan Am name, and that change (on paper) happened in 1981. The tug is Dorothy McAllister; the ship might be
Wavertree, although the foto below shows the current color and head rig. The foto above also seems to have a figurehead, which Wavertree at one point sported although it was not “original equipment.”
Here’s a bow detail of the ship, and one
of some crew on the afterdeck of Dorothy.
And my questions are: is this Wavertree? How much clearance would there have been between the top of the masts and underside of the East River bridges? What year would this have been? Would Wavertree have been coming from the Brooklyn Navy Yard at this point?
How does one almost hide a battleship? The same way you hide a cruise ship here.
I almost passed the USS North Carolina (built in Brooklyn) afloat on the Cape Fear here without seeing it and
some Assateague ponies dashed ahead only a few minutes away, judging by the tracks and some other traces that still “steamed,” but
it wasn’t my day to see ponies, or much else except this beautful marsh with egret. Lots of businesses on Chincoteague with Pegasus in the name.
All fotos by Will Van Dorp. What is the origin of the name “Cape Fear,” great movie and evocative place name? Assateague? Answers tomorrow.