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Time to reprise one of my summer meditations: the one on line. Countless line-handling events happen in the sixth boro.
Crews everywhere and from every nation do it.
The technique is generally the same . . .
The goal is to attach to a cleat or bollard.
Vikings do it.
Those seeking shelter from impending storms do it.
It has to be done safely, for the dangers with line come fast and irreversibly. I know from almost . .. key word . . almost losing some fingers. Towmasters speaks of the dangers here, aptly illustrated.
First foto thanks to Mike Lesser, last one to Elizabeth Wood, and the others . . . Will Van Dorp.
A truckable tug named Mame Faye and her tow anchor outside the current near the confluence of the Mohawk and Hudson Rivers. Idyllic . . . serene, sleepy upstate river banks . . . eh? She’ll be back.
Farther east is The Chancellor, with twin stacks arranged longitudinally.
Captains Bill and Pam park their powerful machines to rest and enjoy the quiet of oars moving in and out of the fresh water.
What’s this on the foredeck of Bill’s Eighth Sea? Looks like PVC, hairspray, and . . . radishes?
And Captain Fred has gotten involved. This looks . . .
ominous, especially after he went to the supermarket for 50-calibre radishes, the most lethal kind.
see the scene change and
How to describe that: part night harbor scene, rock concert, traffic jam, railroad crossing, cacophony, simulated war zone, kaleidoscope, popcorn popper, video game, confetti, aquatic bioluminescence gone wild, volcano, apocalypse . . . Oh, and I’ve always preferred seeing the flashes reflect in water to seeing them in air.
Now who do you suppose Mame Faye was? Elizabeth toots Mame‘s horn here.
All fotos and video by Will Van Dorp.
Unrelated . . . the Dutch barge flotilla probably moves through the Hudson Highlands and northward today; if you get good fotos and want to share, email me.