Teaser:  When you get to the last foto in this post, you’ll see a foreign icebreaker operating on the Hudson, but I believe the assigned registry is wrong.

I almost called this “maritime monday morning after ….”    I’d rather think of it as a fashion shoot given the sopping right side of my middleparts below, but for full disclosure, neither I nor the guffawing bowsprite to my left spilled the delicious beer onto my lap. But you’ll have to decide on a caption.

Some suggestions might relate to the hazards of having uncapped liquids on a table in an establishment old enough to be haunted by poltergeists  OR strange rituals among waterbloggers seeking solace from seasonal affective disorder OR the hazards of drawing SUCH lifelike figures on a tablecloth and talking about them (in recollection of last summer’s adventures) that they might twitch … because a shark’s tail MIGHT just spasm and flick.   Truth be told, Brooklyn lager rained down off the side of the   table and I didn’t immediately standup because the downpour by then was over and soaked through my winterchill layers.

Previous accounts of our “conference” left out  the miracle of our putting the  Earmaid to work carrying beer or handing out coasters decals . . . OMG . . . those were DECALS, folks!!   It also failed to mention

how lively the shark became when a drawing of the east end of Long Island sprouted teeth . . .  north and south fork transforming into upper and lower jaw seemed somewhat menacing to the otherwise confident porbeagle.    Thanks to Carolina Salguero for these fotos.

Saturday morning after . . .  I was there to catch the sweet sashay of Ipanema heading to sea  (and then to Savannah) into the dawn between the Narrows and the Highlands a dozen miles away.  “When she moves it’s like a samba that swings so cool and sways so gently . . . ” yeah . . . that’s what I thought walking in the morning yellow and feeling truly blessed.  Doubleclick enlarges here and the next.

Maybe you wonder why I hang my free time on the water and blog about it . . .  I wonder that too sometimes, often in fact, and just conclude it’s what I do to feel happy . . . corny, maybe but true.

The water that is the sixth boro is many things to many folks:  an obstacle, a place of employment, a zone to regulate, a playpen.  For me, it’s a teacher and guide, a mentor whose help and consolation I sometimes need, a place where I’ve found many rewarding friendships . . . yeah . ..  with humans.   (Like the one who sent the last foto on this post . . . not the foto below, which shows Eagle Atlanta and Eagle Beaumont, slightly nearer, older and smaller of the two, at anchor in the vicinity of the Narrows.)

OK, that “foreign icebreaker” was represented to me as Norwegian.  And I fell for it in Dave’s email subject line . . . even though I’ve seen this guy on several other blogs previously.

I beg to differ . . .  the lines and attitude convince me this icebreaker must be Dutch.    And here I issue a challenge . . . how about a series of fotos of such water denizens as . . .  maybe more Dutch icebreakers, a Chinese submarine, a Welsh dredge . . .  help me out here.

Fotos 3 through 6 by Will Van Dorp, and the foto 7 . . .  sent to me by a friend but watermarked to joe-ks.com.

Totally related to today:  bowsprite redux for V-Day.