Carol Newman Cronin's Blog, page 12

One Ton of Summer Fun

Hey! It’s the last day of August. How did that happen??

It’s always bittersweet to see the sun setting earlier each night, but this year I feel like I really made the most of summer. Now, looking back on a season that included everything from wingfoiling to Katrina cruising (sometimes on the very same day), I realize I haven’t yet shared one of the best experiences of all. What can I say; it’s been a busy couple of months.

About two minutes before our class start, and yes—we all somehow made it across the line (which is off screen to starboard). Fortunately we could already see the breeze filling!

In early August, Paul and I raced the Eggamoggin Reach Regatta (ERR) on the one tonner Wildwood. She’s a cold-molded Eric Goetz creation first launched in 1980, and a few years ago my friend Molly Mulhern and her boatbuilder-partner took on what she calls “one ton of a refit.” Molly’s a former editor of International Marine Publishing, and she’s written a wonderful summary of the project in Windcheck Magazine. Since I can’t improve on her description of what “one tonner” means, I’ll simply quote her instead:

I have to admit to being a complete dimwit about all the one-ton, quarter-ton, half-ton nomenclature, despite 30 years in the nautical book publishing world, where I read a lot about boat design, racing, boatbuilding, and cruising. I did not, however, get it about the rating rules. Truth be told, I still don’t. If you ask me to explain what I mean by one-tonner, this is what I will say: it’s a sailboat designed to a specific set of criteria, which resulted in boats that were about 36 feet long, with reverse transoms, 50-foot masts, deep keels, small mainsails, and huge overlapping jibs. Plus lots of winches on deck. That’s pretty basic, and mostly, kinda right.

Now in their third season, the Wildwood gang invited Paul and me to join them for the ERR… basically because we knew how to fly a spinnaker. We were in Maine that week, so the timing was perfect—and so was the day, despite mostly light air. A lengthy postponement gave Molly and I the chance to talk about all the boat improvements they’d completed (and those yet to come), catch up on writing and publishing projects, and of course, boat-gawk at the living museum drifting all around us: a perfect meeting of books and boats. Once the breeze came up (or actually slightly before then), we had a great race out of Eggamoggin Reach and around Jericho Bay, which are familiar waters—though I’d never before rounded any of its many rocky islands as race marks. 

The 105-boat ERR fleet included everything from an International 110, to the schooner Brilliant, to several 21st century Spirt of Tradition boats; the only requirement is a wood hull that’s at least 24 feet long. While I did miss the one-design predictability of everyone going the same speed, it was certainly much more social to pass (and to be passed) by such a wide range of boat designs and sail plans. And we did successfully get the spinnaker up (and down) without any disasters!

The party afterward included the widest mix of sailing friends I’ve ever seen at one regatta: Snipe sailors, pro sailors, family cruising friends. And though I did (just) look up the results (we finished fourth in class, thanks to a penalty from the boat’s second place finish last year), the actual competition was really more of an excuse to gather together. By sunset, my cheeks actually hurt from so much smiling—and my heart was full of fresh new memories that will help carry me through the off-season. 

Wildwood might have been dwarfed by the rest of the fleet, but she definitely provided a ton of fun.

A month later, as summer ebbs away, I’m still smiling. Thanks to Molly and crew, I have now added “one ton fun” to my favorite sailing experiences. The date is already posted for 2024… so if you get an invite to sail the ERR, just say yes.

Got a favorite memory from the summer? Share it in the comments below, or send me an email. I read every single one, with a ton of gratitude.

The post One Ton of Summer Fun appeared first on Carol Newman Cronin.

Unique Voices: Reading in a Crowded World

Usually I’m what you might call a novelistic serial monogamist. But while on vacation at a Maine cottage with no electricity, I spent several delicious afternoons settled in on the porch with an actual paperback. Once darkness fell, I curled up in bed with another on my self-lit iPad.

It wasn’t until I was deep into both books that it occurred to me how similar they were—at least on the surface. Both are 2023 novels that could be elevator-pitched as “a story about a woman in her 50s who’s forced to finally confront a very bad teenaged memory.” Both main characters have lifelong best friends, as well as a love interest who could be described as “the one who got away.” Both take place “now.” And—for the writers who notice such things—both are written in today’s popular present tense.

One other more personal commonality: I’ve met both authors and have devoured many of their previous books. So I knew before I even cracked open either the paper cover or the virtual one that they would take me to other worlds but end on a positive note; perfect vacation reads.  

I hopscotched happily between the two stories over several days, losing myself in someone else’s hard work. It was only after I finished both (on the very same afternoon/evening) that I realized: I never once mixed up the characters and details of each. Oh, to write like that!

Two years ago, in Voice: I Know It When I See It, I shared my realization that “The books I finish always have a strong voice… Without a personality to hold it all together, my mind begins to wander and I soon put down the story.” Two years before that, I wrote about authorial voice. Both skills factored into making these two stories distinct and memorable.

If you’re curious about the specifics (or just hungry for two great novels), I’ll publish reviews of each very soon. But for now, here’s my big writerly lesson from a week of novelistic two-timing: each of our stories is unique, even when a general description might seem depressingly similar to other books already in print. 

How about you, do you read novels one at a time? Share your thoughts in the comments below, or send me an email. I read every single one, with gratitude. 

The post Unique Voices: Reading in a Crowded World appeared first on Carol Newman Cronin.

Safety First: 5 Lessons from a Wingfoiling Rescue

As you know all too well by now, Paul and I have been wingfoiling a lot this summer. A few weeks ago we had our first breakdown/rescue, and I’d like to pass along a few key hindsight lessons.

The playpen, perfect for learning with flat water and an easy paddle/walk back to the launching area. Screengrab courtesy PaulCroninStudios

Most of my wingfoiling has been inside what we call “the playpen,” a very sheltered area in the lee of a long beach. The water is flat, and though the prevailing breeze is offshore it would be easy to paddle/walk home if something broke or the wind completely died. But now that the water is summer-warm and I can reliably foil jibe, I’ve been venturing out to play in open water whenever time and tide allow. 

This particular day was absolutely perfect, right up until it wasn’t: a steady seabreeze against outgoing ebb had kicked up some very playful junior varsity waves between the launching area and Dutch Island. I was into my second hour of fun, heading for the lighthouse and already thinking about the next wave-dancing jibe, singing to myself (ironically in hindsight), “Don’t worry, about a thing…” when I heard a very loud POP—and the wing exploded. What had been an air-filled “sail” was now useless flotsam.

I always wear a lifejacket (and helmet) and my foil board floats my weight, so after moving wrist leash to ankle I climbed back onboard and started paddling, wing dragging behind me. I’d done that plenty of times to get back to the playpen beach, but what I didn’t realize was that the ruptured wing was slowly filling up with water. What I DID realize was that despite my best paddling efforts, the board, foils, wing, and I were all slowly but steadily being swept out to sea by the ebb. 

I tried swimming the board instead; similar speed. Holding range, maybe? Definitely not getting any closer to shore.

Paul was circling around, providing both moral support and a more visible reference for a couple of passing powerboats—none of whom realized there was anything wrong. He suggested I pull the wing up onto the board, and that was definitely better but also an obstacle to paddling (the center strut was still inflated). I dropped back into the water again, because all I could focus on was to “keep swimming.”

“You’re making progress,” Paul said, encouragingly. (The GPS track proves otherwise.) “Good thing you like to swim!”

After a few more minutes of effort, it was clear: I was not going to get back to shore under my own steam. So, after a short discussion, Paul came alongside close enough for me to grab his board leash. Instantly our speed doubled—even with me dragging in the water. (You can see where he picked me up from the second left turn on the GPS track.) 

I should’ve climbed back onto the board, but again I didn’t want to pause our now visible progress. Especially once Paul somehow managed to pick up his wing and sail me and my gear back to the beach—where I nicknamed him my “rescue husband.” 

Thanks to his strength and sailing abilities, the day ended well—though with far more swimming and paddling than expected. If you ever find yourself in a similar situation, here are the hindsight

Lessons Learned

1. Always deflate the wing and pull it up on the board. When I got it back to the beach I realized that its main tube had a big hole and had started to fill up with water, so it would’ve only gotten more waterlogged the longer it dragged behind me. Completely obvious, in hindsight!

2. Sail with a (strong, smart) buddy, or file a float plan.

3. Carry a communication device.

4. Consider the risks/rewards of your sailing location. Playing in the waves was really fun, but I was very glad the breakdown hadn’t occurred any farther from the beach.

5. Carry a whistle (it’s the law). If Paul hadn’t been there, that would’ve been my best way to ask one of the (otherwise oblivious) motorboats for help.

Despite the day’s dramatic finish, I’m very glad I went wingfoiling on such a perfect afternoon—and also very grateful for my rescue husband. Everything we do carries risk, but the next time there’s a wingfoiling breakdown I will definitely be a little smarter about how to get back to the beach—even if I’m the one doing the rescuing.

The post Safety First: 5 Lessons from a Wingfoiling Rescue appeared first on Carol Newman Cronin.

Buddy Melges: He Really Was a Wizard

Subscribers to Seahorse Magazine have undoubtedly already read Peter Harken’s lovely memorial to Buddy Melges in the July issue. Peter and Buddy were lifelong friends and two of the three Iceboat Kings, along with Bill Mattison, so I figured that would be the magazine’s only tribute to the Wizard of Zenda after he died last spring at age 93. But perhaps spurred on by Peter’s insistence (“don’t let Carol off the hook. She is a much better writer than my scribbling by far!!”) the editor asked for a fuller profile. The result is in the August issue.

It’s always a special treat to open up a story I wrote and see what the Seahorse elves dug up for illustrations. The image/caption above is a great example of the surprises I find in every issue—even when I already know the words.

In 2021, I got to interview Buddy and his Gold Star crew Andreas Josenhans for 100 Years of Gold Stars. Between that and stitching together some the many words Buddy left behind, I like to think I captured a small shred of this incredible sailing legend. But I know there are many more Buddy stories out there, so please add yours into the comments below or send me an email. I read every single one, with gratitude.

PS Buddy’s profile is available here, but to read Peter Harken’s tribute you’ll have to visit the Seahorse website.

Previous Seahorse Profiles

Toppa Talks: One Job, One (Big) Dream

Circus Minimus: The Rich Life of Bill Mattison

Mark Reynolds: Hard Chines and Unasked Questions

Augie Diaz: Lucky AND Good

Dawn Riley: Setting the Standard

Clicks of Chance: Onne van der Wal

Just Say Yes: Stan and Sally Honey

Rod Davis: Why You Need His Wisdom in 2021

Rod Johnstone: An Amazing Legacy of Yacht Designs

A Final Conversation with Harry Anderson

Life Lessons from Dave Perry

Vince Brun Profile in Seahorse

Only One Jud (Smith)

The post Buddy Melges: He Really Was a Wizard appeared first on Carol Newman Cronin.

Wingfoiling from a Sailboat: Making New Habits

I’ve been cruising on my family’s sailboat since I was six years old, so I have a lifetime of onboard habits. As soon as the anchor is dug in, spare halyards are moved forward so they won’t clank against the mast. Upon waking (with the sun), the overnight dew is used to swab the salt off the decks. Personal items should be stowed. And the icebox is NOT to be opened without consulting everyone else onboard (to minimize cold loss). 

Layered on top of these are the habits added during the second half of Katrina’s (and my) life. These include but are not limited to: Choosing between electric and manual jib trim. Always furling the mainsail with the leeward control line. And, as soon as the engine is started, my father asking, “Is the fridge on?” 

This summer, I asked if we could add something entirely new to this well-honed equation: wingfoiling. Dad said yes, so on a remarkably sunny morning we loaded up and set off for Nantucket (about 30 miles from Katrina’s home port of Woods Hole). With fair tide in both directions and great breeze, we enjoyed two record-breaking sails (with not a single tack), a relaxing layday, and a memorable two nights on board. Plus the special bonus of a first-time occurrence, wingfoiling off Katrina! 

A 38-foot sailboat is, of course, not an ideal platform for a sport that didn’t even exist until her fifth decade… but with a little flexibility and ingenuity, we figured out the best approach. While underway, the two boards fit perfectly between the port bunk and centerline galley table. At night (when that bunk was pulled out), they slept the cockpit. The wings were easy; they disappeared into the quarterberth. 

The two foils were more of a jigsaw puzzle. We settled for a slightly awkward location on the lazarette hatch and tied them to the backstay while sailing—a visible reminder of this new addition to our cruising.

On the layday, we had a leisurely morning of reading and chatting until the afternoon seabreeze filled. We pumped up both wings on the foredeck (though we later deflated them on top of the inflatable dinghy, hanging in its davits). The boards/foils were put together in the cockpit and then dropped over the lifelines by the long arms of Paul. Thanks to Katrina’s boarding ladder, we didn’t even get wet (right away). 

This is probably way more detail than you need, since I’m guessing the number of folks who will be able to combine wingfoiling with a classic cruising boat is rather small. But the point I’m trying to make can be applied to any aspect of life: We are never too old to learn new habits. Katrina (and my Dad) adjusted graciously to the invasion, and we got to go foiling in a completely new location. And, after a great session on the flat waters of Nantucket Harbor, we settled right back into traditional cruising with sundowners and a tasty after-sailing meal. 

We are already planning our next cruise, so I’ll let you know if this first has a repeat. Meanwhile, let me know what the highlight of your summer has been so far in the comments below (or send me an email). Though it doesn’t go back nearly as many years as deck-swabbing, I have a grateful habit of reading every single one.

The post Wingfoiling from a Sailboat: Making New Habits appeared first on Carol Newman Cronin.

Writing Something New about a Classic Yacht

Psst, I have some exciting news—I’m working on a new book! (Not the sequel to Ferry to Cooperation Island, though I am making progress on that as well.) It’s another perfect example of Where Books Meet Boats: a history of the classic sailboat Hound. 

Photo courtesy Phlotilla/Sightings

Hound is an Aage Nielsen-designed aluminum sloop that launched in 1970, the same year my family first sailed on Katrina. Crewed by mostly family and friends, Hound also delivered both race results and the quiet joy of anchoring in many remote harbors. Each story I dig up brings me right back to my own childhood, while adding a whole new perspective: how many miles a 59-footer with a full-time captain can cover each year. 

In 1991 Hound sailed into St. Petersburg, Russia, perhaps the only US-flagged vessel to do so during the seven decades when that city at the east end of the Baltic Sea was called Leningrad. And shortly after she sailed out again, the Soviet Union collapsed… though I’m absolutely certain her departure was not the cause. Since then she’s inspired many a boat-gawker, and I’m honored to be entrusted with documenting her history.

I’m also feeling rewarded for following my instincts. Last year, while looking for something else, I stumbled onto an excellent photo of Aage Nielsen; something told me to hold onto it. As I wrote in Forgotten Photos Spark Story, “Who knows what future inspiration will come from a morning of blind digging into sailing history?”

We’re still working out the details of book format and timing, so stay tuned here for updates. Meanwhile, all of you fiction lovers can rest assured: the characters of Cooperation Island are definitely getting into some more hot water. Who knows, maybe one of these days Hound will drop anchor out there and sail into my fictional world as well! 

Got a question about books and boats, or perhaps a Hound story? Share it in the comments below, or send me an email. I read every single one, with gratitude.

The post Writing Something New about a Classic Yacht appeared first on Carol Newman Cronin.

Favorite Sailing: Whatever’s On Now

Whenever I mention my chosen sport to a non-sailor, I always wonder if they’re picturing me lounging in the sun on some enormous yacht, sipping an umbrella drink that was delivered by a uniformed crew member. Even after sharing more detail, I usually feel like I’m confusing rather than clarifying; how could high-speed foiling and light-air drifting both be key parts of living my best life?

And if they ask for my favorite sailing activity, the answer will probably seem even less clear: whatever it was I did most recently.

This summer, I’ve been savoring the incredibly wide variety of sailing opportunities that have come my way: everything from leisurely evening sails to heart-thumping race starts. In one memorable week I fit in an evening of Snipe sailing, an overnight in a quiet harbor (bookended by two great sails), and several afternoons of wingfoiling—before capping it all off with a fantastic weekend regatta on a 59-foot classic yacht. Each adventure made me smile, though for a slightly different reason. Is it any wonder our sport is so hard to explain to landlubbers? 

I’ve written about this before; in 2018, I compared two very different sailing experiences to beach reads and literary novels. The conclusion still rings true:

“It’s hard to describe what I like about sailing for the same reason it’s hard to describe what I love about books; there are so many different aspects to both. Fortunately, I get to puzzle all of it out here on the blog, discovering as I write some of the many, many ways in which Books Meet Boats.”

Before this summer ends, I hope to fit in as much sailing variety as possible, along with—gasp—some exploring on our powerboat. I’m very grateful for the wide array of water-based experiences I get to enjoy, even though it’s very hard to explain—and will likely never include a delivered umbrella drink.  

What’s your favorite summertime activity? Share it in the comments below, or send me an email… whether or not it involves getting out on the water. And thanks for reading, all the way to the end! See you next Thursday.

The post Favorite Sailing: Whatever’s On Now appeared first on Carol Newman Cronin.

Baby Steps to Huge Accomplishments

When I was a young rigger, I once built a set of new lifelines for a well-known Boston area developer I’ll call “Dave.” After finishing the job, I asked him how he dealt with the slow pace of his own enormous projects. His answer has stuck with me for thirty years: “Every day, I try to do something small that takes me toward the big goal.”

That approach is now so ingrained in my daily life that I rarely think much about it, but this morning it occurs to me that unsexy plodding toward incremental improvement is a common thread through everything I do. So here are three examples to show how small but steady progress can add up to long-term growth—in pretty much any aspect of life. 

1. Writing

Finishing a novel might take even longer than it took “Dave” to acquire permits for his largest project. The only way to complete something so daunting is to write a few words today, a few more words tomorrow, and a few more words the day after that. Eventually, I’ll complete a rough draft.

2. Fitness

Over the years, I’ve discovered that I don’t need to do BIG workouts to stay fit; all I need is to do something, even if it doesn’t feel like much, five or six days each week. Focused movement that I enjoy (yoga ashore or afloat, wingfoiling, walking) has done way more for my long-term health and wellness than the weightlifting sessions I used to do in the gym—even though those always felt so significantly exhausting in the short term.

3. Relationships

“When you think of someone, you should tell them,” a friend told me recently (after reaching out unexpectedly). Yes, handwritten notes are far more memorable, but even a quick email can raise someone’s spirits when they most need it. Because You Never Know.

None of this is terribly deep, which just reinforces my theory; things that look “big” are usually the culmination of multiple “small” decisions and gestures. Just as Dave the developer’s steady progress thirty years ago still transforms the Boston skyline, my own daily habits are the only way to create something more significant than a new set of lifelines. 

Got a big goal that seems unbelievably daunting? Share it in the comments below, or email me—especially if you’re struggling with how to break it down into smaller parts. Maybe this community can help! And now, if you’ll excuse me; I need to go accomplish something small.

The post Baby Steps to Huge Accomplishments  appeared first on Carol Newman Cronin.

The Serious Significance of One Evening Sail

A few weeks ago, I went Snipe racing in Newport—which is way more special than it might sound. It’s been five years since Kim and I won the Snipe Women’s Worlds on Narragansett Bay. And even though both our three-boat fleet and the occasion (IYAC’s Monday Night Series) might seem much less impressive, it was still a very significant night for me: the first time the Narragansett Bay Fleet 17 has organized evening racing since 1999!

Jensen McTighe joined me for the first Snipe fleet racing in Newport since the year he was born.

When I first started crewing for Ed Adams in 1990, Snipes were still a regular part of the weekly Newport racing scene. As I remember, there were about six or seven boats that got out one evening each week—and of course Ed beat them all handily. 

I thought summer evenings would be an ongoing part of my Snipe addiction, but by 1991 the local fleet had faded away. Instead Snipe sailing became a travel sport, and I happily drove or even flew to regattas around the world to sail with a variety of skippers.  

In 1999, now a veteran of worldwide Snipe-induced regatta travel, I bought a boat and badgered all the other local Snipe sailors into getting out for some evening racing. I still remember what I yelled out when we crossed the starting line with four other boats: “Look at us, we’re FLEET RACING again!” 

But a few nights of fleet racing do not a tradition make, and due to many factors our tiny fleet soon faded away once more. 

After I retired from Olympic sailing, I bought a new Snipe and teamed up with Kim. Her local fleet in Annapolis was growing again, and even though it was an eight-hour tow each way, I adopted it as my “local.” But I also reminisced with anyone who would listen about the unique joy of summer evenings on Narragansett Bay; sailing back into a sunset-tinted Newport Harbor, salty and refreshed, with only a short drive back to my own bed. 

This year, thanks to a few key people, we finally made it happen again. On a June evening, we joined the very casual Monday night “scene” and had our own start, after the VXOnes and Thistles. Again, I whooped and hollered as we first crossed the starting line with two other boats—and again when Jensen McTighe, my crew, told me he was born in 1999. 

Of course, one evening of sailing still does not make a tradition… but we’re just getting started. Want to join us for the new/old local version of Serious Sailing, Serious Fun? Send me an email. You don’t have to be an expert Snipe sailor, just eager to learn and available after work on Mondays. Meanwhile, thanks for reading—and I hope you’re enjoying summer as much as I am. 

The post The Serious Significance of One Evening Sail appeared first on Carol Newman Cronin.

Farewell June, My Favorite Month

Every year, I beg the month of June to just slow down already—and it never listens. In fact, with each passing year these thirty days only seem to accelerate, though they still manage to cram in significant changes in both weather and priorities. Couldn’t we somehow stretch out June until it’s more like an entire quarter?

June is my favorite month because of its Pure Potential. This year, it also marked our 25th wedding anniversary—a landmark that makes me feel suddenly ancient, perhaps because it’s associated with the word “silver.” Where did all those joyful summers go?

No matter how much I beg it to slow down, this lovely month will soon fade into the heat and humidity of July. All I can do is savor and appreciate the too-speedy progress toward high summer—and perhaps play a little hooky before it’s all over. (Please don’t tell my clients.)

Got a special way to celebrate the beginning of summer? Share it in the comments below, or send me an email. I read every single one, with gratitude.

The post Farewell June, My Favorite Month appeared first on Carol Newman Cronin.