Give it some gas!

A special note from Kim and Bryan… This will be the final blog entry for our Australian Adventure.

We have enjoyed putting these together more than you can imagine. Our time spent hovered at the computer and laughing at ourselves is among our favorite memories. 

bkozadventure recently surpassed 10,000 hits and we have appreciated all of the comments (even though most of you are too bashful to publish them for all to see…).

Our strong recommendation from this experience… 

1. Do something

2. Write about it

1

Give it some gas...

I got my first mini-bike at age 6. That means I’ve been around small engines for around 45 years. Mini-bike, motorcycles, lawn mowers, chain saws, snow blowers… and now that we’ve taken up sailing as a hobby,  the latest villain - outboard dingy motors.

I hate them and they hate me. I don’t know how to start them. My dad knows how to start all engines – large and small. At age 17 I realized that I wasn’t ever going to really “get it” – so I decided to learn computer programming instead. That’s another story.

My dad is part of an entire generation of men who know how to do these things and I represent the coming generations who don’t. My dad and all of the other adult role models in my life share some of the  blame/credit for how I turned out. I never got past the first lesson. It usually goes something like this…

Me: approach the device and stare with dread

Adult: sitting in a lawn chair a few feet away “Don’t flood it”.

Me: yank or kick or twist or pull whatever is used to start it

Adult: “you gotta give it some gas”

In my life with computers “some” is not a word. There is no such thing. How much is “some gas”?

Me: turn or twist or pull some gadget that “gives it some gas”.

Yank or kick or twist or pull whatever…

 repeat about 3-4 times

Adult: Is the choke on? You have to choke it when it’s cold

Again –  I need some precision here… what is cold? Cold in engine terms isn’t the same as cold in people terms. If I’m wearing a t-shirt on a sunny day but the engine hasn’t been started yet – does that mean it’s cold?

Me: apply choke, yank/kick lacking enthusiasm because I know the next sound I hear will be….

Adult: Now you flooded it!

Some of my readers will dismiss this as an exaggeration or they may even claim that they have “… never had a problem starting a small engine”. Let me just say that I remember the day that Cousin Virg got out of the small engine business to focus on fireplaces and furniture. He was transformed from a beaten-down grumpy shell of himself into a smiling, softball playing, golfing, bowling, bundle of positive joy.

So why am I bringing this up now, you may be asking. Well, there is a story…

Last month Kim and I chartered a sailing yacht for 6 days. This was our second time doing it – the first time where the two of us would be managing the boat on our own.

We picked up our sloop in Airlie Beach and Brendon was the bloke who gave us our orientation, area briefing, and checked out our sailing capabilities. We knew Brendon from our last charter with Tyler and Travis. He has long stringy reddish blonde hair, a very thick aussie accent, and never wears a shirt. We got through the process quickly and we were off to explore the Whitsunday Islands.

On the second or third day we were alone, anchored in a distant and isolated area and decided to take the dinghy over to a reef for a bit of snorkeling. I climbed into the dinghy and sized up the outboard motor. The old feelings of despair crept back into my mind – but I had some hope because during our last charter my son, Travis, was responsible for starting the dinghy each time and it always started on the first pull of the rope.

I gave it one sheepish tug – just to see.

Nothing.

The fuel tank was sitting on the bottom towards the front and a rubber line ran between my feet back to the motor. There is a squeeze-bulb in the line that will act as a pump to get the fuel out of the tank and into the engine.

There was a placard with instructions attached so that any dummy could start the motor.

Step I: If the engine is cold – apply the choke. 

We are in the tropics and the sun is out– I’m not cold. Does that mean the engine is not cold??

Step 2: Ensure the squeeze-bulb is firm

Firm? What is firm? Firm like a ripe tomato? Firm like a baseball? I squeeze the bulb a little bit– but I can hear a hundred voices in the back of my head “don’t flood it”. It feels about as firm as a tangerine. Good enough.

Step 3: Twist the handle to give it gas.

I pulled on the rope over and over and nothing happened. I squeezed the bulb and choked and un-choked and nothing happened and I pulled and sweated and blistered and … nothing.

I would have given up – but the dinghy is an important part of the safety equation. If the sailboat engine were to fail and the boat is drifting into the rocks or out to sea – we learned that you lash the dinghy to the side of the boat and one person steers the boat while the other “pushes” it along with the dinghy. I would sleep better if I knew that the dinghy was in working order.

We were very alone at this point. No other boats in sight. But in the distance I heard a high-pitched engine sound. Over a few minutes I could hear that it was getting closer. I didn’t really look up from what I was doing until the boat pulled up beside me.

“Did yu’s give it sum gas?”.

It was Brendon! He had been called out to help another boat in trouble and stopped by to say hello. Now he was sitting in his boat playing the role of adult in lawn chair. His crazy hair, accent,  and suntan was a dramatic visual contrast to memories of my Dad, grandpa Don, Uncles Bob, Don, and Mike- who had all played the lawn chair role in the past.

But his lines were the same… “Na-ow I thing yu’s fla-oded it, mayte.” Right on cue.

I had heard the radio traffic and I knew his other mission was more urgent – so I told him that I would figure it out and he could continue on his way.

I did eventually get it started. At one point I was pumping the squeeze bulb with one hand and fluttering the choke with the other hand and screaming invented, pleading, curse words while the engine sputtered and slowly came to life.

That night I was remembering the incident with Brendon and started thinking about how I might write about it in my blog… and that would be the end of this. But I was blessed with a final epilog…

At the end of our charter we returned the boat to Airlie beach. One of Brendon’s colleagues named Patrick met us and helped get us checked in. One of his tasks is to top of the fuel tanks. We tied up our sloop at the fuel dock and Patrick hopped in the dinghy because he was going to take it to a different area where they stored the dinghy gas.

 I saw him doing the ritual… squeeze bulb firm, choke on, blah blah blah. I told him “It’s a bit fussy – but it will start eventually… be sure to give it some gas!” Evil laugh...

 I left the area with a bag of garbage that needed to be dumped. I returned a few minutes later and I saw Patrick still in the Dinghy, sweating, pulling, adjusting.

As I walked by and never broke stride. I couldn’t keep a straight face as I offered my insight to Patrick- “Now you’ve flooded it”.

He gave up. Never got it started and didn’t charge us for any gas.

In search of our Endless Summer

When we arrived in Australia in 2010 we were taking a chance on an adventure and we had no idea where the journey was going to take us. Now that it is time to leave - we can reflect on all of the things that have happened to us during our time in Australia.

The places to go and things to see and do are well documented in guidebooks - but it is especially the people we met along the way that will stay with us.

We will soon be off on our next adventure. When we got here we had no idea what we would be leaving behind...

We hope you enjoy sharing our special video memories.

The video is further proof that when you add music - everything in life seems much more interesting.

And, after watching, you may wonder...  the answer is 'yes, we really have been drinking that much beer and wine!'

Endless Summer

Daily Life in Oz III

A couple of weeks ago we were hanging out with an American who came to Sydney for a visit. He mentioned that he saw a neighbourhood park in Sydney and the play equipment caught his eye.  The slides were extra tall, the swings were bigger, the bars were made out of old-fashioned, noggin knocking iron. He even stopped to play for a bit. He made the point that because Australians are not litigation-happy - there were still some last bastions of bold play adventure. In America everything would be low to the rubber-coated ground so no one could get injured and sue someone.

I thought about that and realised it was true and I started thinking about all of the ways our life here is just a little bit better than in the USA due to the lack of legal liability. 

I rented (hired) a car at Avis once and the lady at the counter was confused about my questions about liability coverage. It is completely different here - they don't have the same notions we do about who is responsible to take care of who.

Another benefit we noticed...  we recently moved from the beach apartment to a very urban, very small apartment that is a few blocks from the office. We are enjoying the convenience  and we still go to the beach on the weekends. 

Shortly after moving in, we realised that the apartment had bugs. The exterminator came and we walked through the place. 

He rubbed his chin and said - "hmmmm.... these are German cockroaches. hmmmm.... they are tricky ones.  Got any children here?"

Nope.

Any pets?

Nope.

Any health issues?

Nope.

Okay. Good. I've got just the stuff. Now step back a little. Don't worry - Health and Safety requires me to put on this space suit when I'm spraying - but you don't have to worry.

He hosed down the floor around the base boards and cabinets. When he got to the bedroom door he kind of paused and looked inside... then he looked at me... we had pulled the bed away from the wall because we didn't want the roaches leaping off of the wall and onto our pillow at night. He had seen this configuration before and knew what it meant.

His electronic voice activator punctuated his sentences like two scuba divers talking under water "cssssht - we don't usually spray this in the bedroom... cssssht".

I said "but we saw some in there". 

"cssssht Okay. Then I'm going in csssshhht".

This is not some wimpy, all natural, good for the environment, ddt-free, USA stuff - this was the good stuff like they used back in the 1930's. 

The next day German cockroaches were having spasms on our floor and we had to sweep up their bodies all over the place. 

One application and this place is completely bug free. We are so happy. This bug spray is great. It should be legalised in the US. One application and no more bugs and we haven't really seen any side effects so far. We took this picture last night to memorialise our celebration at declaring the place free and clear!

Winning

As I've mentioned in other blogs - we have taken up sailing and I sail on a Sydney Harbor racing team on Friday nights. Kim joins us when the winds and seas are reasonable because she gets bruised easily when we get tossed around. She shows me each bruise every day until it is completely faded away. She even shows her mom the bruises on Skype. It makes me feel guilty. Her doctor is going to think I'm abusing her.

There are normally about 30 yachts in each race.

We both prefer casual "cruising" to racing - but the experience that we get in these sessions is priceless and will help us be better sailors as we pursue this after we leave Australia.

As a 50-y-o new guy  - it is a humbling experience to be the dumbest guy on the crew. But Gene, our skipper, and David, first mate, have done their best to make me feel welcome and they involve me in tasks that are above my grade so that I can get the experience.

Early in my "training" I joined another crew in Melbourne for a race. The boat was different than any I was used to and the conditions were much more extreme than in the protected harbour. My friend Scott got us invited on the boat. Scott has no official training and we were both trying to stay out of the way. At one point the waves were crashing over the side of the boat and our boom had broached and the skipper shouted "Throw the Vang!!!!" Everyone was looking at Scott and me. We were just trying to stay out of the way and not get swept into the Tasman Sea. "Throw the Vang" everyone started shouting at once. I looked around, puzzled. I was able to figure out that "Vang" meant the Boom Vang. Then I was able to trace the sheet (fancy word for rope) to a line stopper and I happened to be the one located closest to the stopper.

I had never heard the term "throw" in this context - but, again, I was able to figure out that I needed to jerk the sheet out of the stopper to release tension... so I gave it a mighty tug with my wrist. Nothing. Most of my body was clutching onto something attached so I wouldn't fall off - so all I had left to invest in "throwing" was a girly flip of the wrist. Another tug. Nothing.

"Throw the F**king VANG:!!!!"the Skipper (not Gene) screamed at me.

With a 25 not wind full-on the large mainsail - it required all of my strength to eventually get the sheet "thrown". I lost my balance and fell onto the wet deck surrounded by our empty floating beer cans.

Humiliating experience.

During other races in Sydney Harbour we've experienced catastrophic equipment failure and even a collision - but this past Friday night we crossed the line first! It makes all of the humiliation and blisters and bruises and screaming worth it! We crossed the finish line first and turned to see 29 yachts chasing us with the sun setting behind them - it was a great moment that I will remember forever.

Here is a photo of the winning ceremony at the Manly Yacht Club after the race. David is sitting next to me. We won a bottle of wine. That is customary for Friday Night yacht racing. They race yachts worth hundreds of thousands of dollars and risk injury and sharks... all for a bottle of wine.

Shared photo book from laurie

Click here to view this photo book larger

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Free Yogurt in the Commonwealth

In my October 26 posting I made an observation about how giving out free samples was an American phenomenon that you don't see very often in other places. And when attempted - unintended consequences can result.

One morning while we were living in London we encountered a yogurt giveaway on the street corner. There were big barrels of iced down yogurt and someone handed one to Kim. The label looked like someone had printed them off in their garage. She smiled and got excited about the free breakfast. I've never once seen her eat yogurt. Not for breakfast, lunch, snack, or dinner - but she was smiling from ear to ear about it.

I made her throw it away.

"Dear, those people could be terrorists giving away virus-contaminated yogurt and these Brits who are rushing to grab some will be ground zero for a global outbreak". Some of the people around us were ripping the lids off and slurping down the stuff with flimsy plastic spoons right there on the street.

I had forgotten about that story until this morning...

We took the train to work (too hot to walk across the bridge with my computer). As we rode the escalator up to street level - I noticed a problem in front of us near the top. Instead of people filing off the escalator and flowing out into the street - there was a clog. And the escalator was continuing at normal speed and propelling us all into a growing crowd of people who were getting mashed together in an awkward smash up. We were able to avoid the core of the clog and skirt the crowd with some degree of dignity. As we passed by - I noticed the same familiar barrels of iced down yogurt and a collage of arms and hands clawing to get free jumbo-sized samples and flimsy plastic spoons. I laughed and reminded Kim that she isn't allowed to take any.

When I arrived at the office I went to the break room for coffee. I ran into Angelo - one of our Australian Associates. He had just finished off one jumbo container of yogurt - and was opening his second. He had Four in total. He was proud of his haul and it looked to me like he planned to eat all four in one sitting.

If I come down with a mysterious virus - seek out Angelo as the prime carrier.

I realized that this may be material for the blog - so I went back a few minutes later with my iPhone to take a picture of Angelo and his yogurt. But he had already finished and I would have to dig the empties out of the rubbish bin. 

Into the Mystic

My sons came for a visit to Australia. They just left today.

A couple of months ago, Kim and I attended the annual boat show in Sydney and were intrigued by the opportunity to charter a sail boat and explore some of the Whitsunday Islands at the southern tip of the Great Barrier Reef in Queensland. We decided that it would be a great way to spend some time with Tyler and Travis while they were here so we booked a large yacht (Catalina 445 - a 45-foot sloop) and made arrangements for a skipper to come along - since neither of us had ever sailed before.

In the 60 days or so that we had to prepare for the trip we decided to get some formal training so that we could make the most of the trip. We took a crash course that included an overnight trip (slept on the boat), Friday night racing, and Saturday afternoon lessons in Sydney Harbour.

On the big day - the four of us arrived in the Whitsundays to find perfect weather - but there was one hitch... Our "arrangements" for a skipper had not been noticed and they had to find a last-minute substitute.

The guy we got was kind of a nervous and spastic sort of fellow. Not the typical image you might have of a highly trained professional who would captain a 45-foot yacht for 6 days through treacherous reefs, sharks, etc.

But he had a very helpful first mate who held things together:

The crew had zero experience - but by the end of the first day they could tack, jibe, and trim sails like experts.

We hope you enjoy the video link below. Kim and I get teary-eyed every time we watch it - but we understand if you giggle at some of the clunky editing and cheesy sentimentality. We don't apologize.

My sincerest thanks to Van Morrison and the Zac Brown Band for creating the music and a special thank you to the late Steve Jobs for having the vision to create the tools to let me put this together in a few hours with just an iPhone and an iMac!

Important notice - YouTube would not allow my video since it has music attached... So I'm trying something that may be slow and unreliable... please be patient. Grandma's, Moms, and Aunts will find it worth the wait...


A new fast link to the video