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Thursday, June 22, 2006
Pledge Paddle Plaudits
Gentle Readers, we've (you've) paddled past the $8,000 mark ($8213.40, to be exact), and your generosity and and ludicrous confidence in me incite this premature blog entry.
First, for you newbies, some catch-up: the money we raise on this venture goes to the Financial Aid budget of The Boys' Latin School where I teach; many parents make extraordinary familial sacrifices to send their sons to my school, and for those 'on the bubble' of support for their sons' education, this money will come as welcome and much-needed relief. So, thank you! I, of course, have the distinct motivational advantage of having some of these fine fellows in my own classroom; I see their faces, I hear their voices, and I see their commitment (and gratitude for the opportunity). Trust me when I tell you that augmenting the financial aid budget of this (or, frankly, any!) school impacts real people in an enormously tangible way.
Sure, I'd like to get it to the magical $10k - or beyond - and there's still enough time between today and August 5 for that to be a reasonable goal. I must say that while I didn't initially plan this trip to be a fundraising initiative, it sure feels good to see it unfolding. To those of you who are making it happen, again, many thanks!
In my idle time I've been making a provisions / supply / equipment list for the row...and I'm beginning to have concerns about both the space I have available and the unforseen needs that might not be met. I court the prospect of my guideboat looking like a bad out-take from The Beverly Hillbillies but, hey, Jethro Clampett had the mansion...my boat will be my mansion for about two weeks. Here's what's aboard my imagination so far (working from the stern to the bow):
A Dry Bag (a bag that keeps things dry that ought not to get wet) will fit, I hope, under the very small deck over the stern of the boat, out of the sun and water. Contents: a wallet purged of all unnecessary filler, spare batteries, an "In Case I'm Found" letter, spare glasses, a picture of Peg(sigh), essential toiletries, a log/journal book, reserve charts, and an Imaginary Letter of Commendation and Support from the Mayor of Troy to the Mayor of Baltimore.
Moving forward, there's about two feet of easy-access clear space in front of my feet. Here I will tie down a cooler containing the day's primary provisions: ice, a lot of water (maybe a Yoo Hoo or two), and food representing a high protien, high carb diet, (the guys training for an across-the-Atlantic row plan to consume (and burn) better than 10,000 calories each day. I note this with caution, because I'd hate to arive in Baltimore having gained 25 pounds. I could easily do that if left to my own juvenile culinary tendencies.)
On either side of the cooler I will secure other items and devices that will meet my immediate "needs" while underway. I'll want to position my Taskmaster GPS unit within easy sight so I can sustain my desired pace (3.8-4.5 mph). I'll be bringing some sort of radio with which to gather the local flavor of the ports I pass. I'll have a floatable "crash bag" containing flares, a whistle, a navy-surplus signal mirror...probably tied to me during the harriest portions (of the trip, for God's sake. Come on, Gentle Reader. Sheesh.). Bug stuff, sun stuff, and your good will will also be at hand under the gunwales amidship, probably in mesh hanging bags, along with a small "sneak" paddle.
Now, moving towards the bow, you get to me, the propulsion unit. A silly wide-brimmed hat is a mandatory; frankly, sun exposure is a real danger during two weeks on the water, and the hat will be augmented by long-sleeved UV resistant shirts and neck protection. I'll be covered in goop if I'm responsible, and I'll be alternating gloves because the blisters will come regardless of how much preliminary callouse material I'll be able to build up. I'll alternate lightweight running pants with shorts for additional sun protection and, of course, socks with footgear (perhaps) yet-to-be-determined. Say what you will about my boat, I'm not looking too much like Jethro at this point, eh? Sea Urchin comes to mind.
When conditions call for it, I do plan to wear a lightweight CO-2 activated life vest. I'll have to ensure that whetever I wear does not restrict my motion in the act of rowing; 10 (maybe more) hours a day will turn a minor chafe into a real problem.
Continuing towards the bow, past me and the rails of my sliding seat, I will have to contend with a PVC pipe that is strung between the forward set of oarlocks. This pipe supports a lightweight 'pusher' sail that I plan to use to take advantage of quartering or direct tail winds. To be sure, the very act of bringing this will ensure headwinds all the way, but I've been good and I will trust to fate.
Ed Note - A Moral Dilemma: Some, like my very own brother, have opined that bringing this "sail" may compromise the "purity" of "rowing to Baltimore." My only response is that when I see the waterways crowded with other past-middle-age, slightly overweight former sales/marketing types-turned-teachers undertaking this same 450 mile madness without a pusher, I'll relent. In the meantime, paaaleeease, give me a break. It in no way converts my boat into a "sail" boat (no keel, no rudder, no centerboard); and conditions have to be just right for deployment to make sense.
Under this PVC pipe will rest a waterproof "stores" bag containing (only a few) additional items of clothing, a lightweight sleeping bag, spares for the oarlocks and mechanicals (sliding seat and such), lubricant, rain gear, non-perishable food (lotsa beef jerkey), basic meds (a.k.a. Absorbine Junior), duct tape, reading material (ahh...lots of reading material!) and other items commonly associated with a camping experience, like Charmin.
Finally, fully forward at the bow, I'll secure a rolled-up sleeping pad and some netting.
Balancing the boat fore-and-aft is vital for maximum efficiency - and, let's face it, the marginal "propulsive unit" powering this vessel is mindful of the importance of efficiency. For this I plan to utilize several plastic gallon jugs. Filling these jugs with water as necessary and moving them fore and aft will materially effect the trim of the boat, and they are easy to crush and store when not needed.
So that's the plan. I'll take feedback greatfully on what might be obviously left out, and I do plan to weigh the load and, obviously, simulate it when I get into serious water training in July.
My concession to technology and communications will be my cell phone. Peg, Chief Safety Officer, insists upon it, and I can't hope to be able to coordinate a possible mid-journey liason without it. The phone will also enable me to contact her and Kathy for daily updates and highlights which they will enter on this blog in an almost-real-time fashion.
I'm off to the gym now, lest today's Row Preparation be only a cerebral exercise.
Thanks for moving that Pledge Paddle; tell your friends!!
Floating forward,
Mr. Frei
First, for you newbies, some catch-up: the money we raise on this venture goes to the Financial Aid budget of The Boys' Latin School where I teach; many parents make extraordinary familial sacrifices to send their sons to my school, and for those 'on the bubble' of support for their sons' education, this money will come as welcome and much-needed relief. So, thank you! I, of course, have the distinct motivational advantage of having some of these fine fellows in my own classroom; I see their faces, I hear their voices, and I see their commitment (and gratitude for the opportunity). Trust me when I tell you that augmenting the financial aid budget of this (or, frankly, any!) school impacts real people in an enormously tangible way.
Sure, I'd like to get it to the magical $10k - or beyond - and there's still enough time between today and August 5 for that to be a reasonable goal. I must say that while I didn't initially plan this trip to be a fundraising initiative, it sure feels good to see it unfolding. To those of you who are making it happen, again, many thanks!
In my idle time I've been making a provisions / supply / equipment list for the row...and I'm beginning to have concerns about both the space I have available and the unforseen needs that might not be met. I court the prospect of my guideboat looking like a bad out-take from The Beverly Hillbillies but, hey, Jethro Clampett had the mansion...my boat will be my mansion for about two weeks. Here's what's aboard my imagination so far (working from the stern to the bow):
A Dry Bag (a bag that keeps things dry that ought not to get wet) will fit, I hope, under the very small deck over the stern of the boat, out of the sun and water. Contents: a wallet purged of all unnecessary filler, spare batteries, an "In Case I'm Found" letter, spare glasses, a picture of Peg(sigh), essential toiletries, a log/journal book, reserve charts, and an Imaginary Letter of Commendation and Support from the Mayor of Troy to the Mayor of Baltimore.
Moving forward, there's about two feet of easy-access clear space in front of my feet. Here I will tie down a cooler containing the day's primary provisions: ice, a lot of water (maybe a Yoo Hoo or two), and food representing a high protien, high carb diet, (the guys training for an across-the-Atlantic row plan to consume (and burn) better than 10,000 calories each day. I note this with caution, because I'd hate to arive in Baltimore having gained 25 pounds. I could easily do that if left to my own juvenile culinary tendencies.)
On either side of the cooler I will secure other items and devices that will meet my immediate "needs" while underway. I'll want to position my Taskmaster GPS unit within easy sight so I can sustain my desired pace (3.8-4.5 mph). I'll be bringing some sort of radio with which to gather the local flavor of the ports I pass. I'll have a floatable "crash bag" containing flares, a whistle, a navy-surplus signal mirror...probably tied to me during the harriest portions (of the trip, for God's sake. Come on, Gentle Reader. Sheesh.). Bug stuff, sun stuff, and your good will will also be at hand under the gunwales amidship, probably in mesh hanging bags, along with a small "sneak" paddle.
Now, moving towards the bow, you get to me, the propulsion unit. A silly wide-brimmed hat is a mandatory; frankly, sun exposure is a real danger during two weeks on the water, and the hat will be augmented by long-sleeved UV resistant shirts and neck protection. I'll be covered in goop if I'm responsible, and I'll be alternating gloves because the blisters will come regardless of how much preliminary callouse material I'll be able to build up. I'll alternate lightweight running pants with shorts for additional sun protection and, of course, socks with footgear (perhaps) yet-to-be-determined. Say what you will about my boat, I'm not looking too much like Jethro at this point, eh? Sea Urchin comes to mind.
When conditions call for it, I do plan to wear a lightweight CO-2 activated life vest. I'll have to ensure that whetever I wear does not restrict my motion in the act of rowing; 10 (maybe more) hours a day will turn a minor chafe into a real problem.
Continuing towards the bow, past me and the rails of my sliding seat, I will have to contend with a PVC pipe that is strung between the forward set of oarlocks. This pipe supports a lightweight 'pusher' sail that I plan to use to take advantage of quartering or direct tail winds. To be sure, the very act of bringing this will ensure headwinds all the way, but I've been good and I will trust to fate.
Ed Note - A Moral Dilemma: Some, like my very own brother, have opined that bringing this "sail" may compromise the "purity" of "rowing to Baltimore." My only response is that when I see the waterways crowded with other past-middle-age, slightly overweight former sales/marketing types-turned-teachers undertaking this same 450 mile madness without a pusher, I'll relent. In the meantime, paaaleeease, give me a break. It in no way converts my boat into a "sail" boat (no keel, no rudder, no centerboard); and conditions have to be just right for deployment to make sense.
Under this PVC pipe will rest a waterproof "stores" bag containing (only a few) additional items of clothing, a lightweight sleeping bag, spares for the oarlocks and mechanicals (sliding seat and such), lubricant, rain gear, non-perishable food (lotsa beef jerkey), basic meds (a.k.a. Absorbine Junior), duct tape, reading material (ahh...lots of reading material!) and other items commonly associated with a camping experience, like Charmin.
Finally, fully forward at the bow, I'll secure a rolled-up sleeping pad and some netting.
Balancing the boat fore-and-aft is vital for maximum efficiency - and, let's face it, the marginal "propulsive unit" powering this vessel is mindful of the importance of efficiency. For this I plan to utilize several plastic gallon jugs. Filling these jugs with water as necessary and moving them fore and aft will materially effect the trim of the boat, and they are easy to crush and store when not needed.
So that's the plan. I'll take feedback greatfully on what might be obviously left out, and I do plan to weigh the load and, obviously, simulate it when I get into serious water training in July.
My concession to technology and communications will be my cell phone. Peg, Chief Safety Officer, insists upon it, and I can't hope to be able to coordinate a possible mid-journey liason without it. The phone will also enable me to contact her and Kathy for daily updates and highlights which they will enter on this blog in an almost-real-time fashion.
I'm off to the gym now, lest today's Row Preparation be only a cerebral exercise.
Thanks for moving that Pledge Paddle; tell your friends!!
Floating forward,
Mr. Frei
