I was fast becoming a hermit before Covid. I’m not out of my shell yet, and not sure I want to be. But every once in a while a shop day with friends is the perfect introvert tonic.
Joel arrived first, to pick up the finished Loon. Not actually pick up; post motorcycle accident his right arm still doesn’t work well if lifted above his head. We needed someone tall and strong, and easily convinced to help whitewash a fence. Steve was also heading to the shop.
Steve arrived from Maine, and with his considerable assistance we got the Loon on the racks via the aero bar modified Yakima rollers & Thule saddles. The addition of a strapped down center cover allowed us to rack the Loon upright.
PB030008 by
Mike McCrea, on Flickr
PB030007 by
Mike McCrea, on Flickr
PB030009 by
Mike McCrea, on Flickr
With Hully Rollers at the back, adapted to fit the Transit’s aftermarket aero bars, and HydroGlide saddles adapted up front for sliding the upright hull into position forward, getting the Loon roof racked was as easy as it’s going to get on the high Transit roof. Even so having tall Steve was a big help.
Eh, a loop of rope around the stern to gently lower the bow into position would still be helpful. Just sayin’.
Steve was an absolute joy, no wonder Joel speaks so highly of his company. I had met him too briefly a year ago, and having him in the shop was pure pleasure. Not just for the tasks completed, including dual license tag bolt tie downs on the Transit for the two racked boats.
PB030010 by
Mike McCrea, on Flickr
Or the minor adjustment and improvements made to Steve’s Thule racks.
PB030011 by
Mike McCrea, on Flickr
Joel may not be able to do much that requires use of both arms, but from decades of selling and installing various racks, and helping friends with theirs, he is a wizard with roof racks and adaptation ideas.
Admittedly we were puzzled for a spell trying to determine if the racks required a hex key or a Torx, and what size; the adjustment fitting is tiny, and set deep inside a plastic sleeve. Until, lookee there, a handle knobbed hex tool, stored inside the Thule foot covers. In two of the foot covers in fact, batting .000 just not the two on which we started the initial adjustments.
Nice touch Thule; I’ll remind Joel next time. And Steve. Maybe especially Steve, who originally installed the racks with the manual in hand.
We needed to make those roof rack adjustments to Steve’s van because had expressed an interest in a big boy decked sailing hull. I dressed up the Pamlico 160 up with a sail, partial spray covers and a stern deck bag. And a peculiar custom paddle.
PB020006 by
Mike McCrea, on Flickr
Steve looked pretty in pink paddling. Note that, to kill any hint of a breeze when putting up a sail, the boat need not actually be on the water. You are luffing there Steve.
There followed some hours of sterling shop conversation; both Joel and Steve work(ed) as guides, and guides tend to be wonderful conversationalists, with a empathy tuned to human dynamics from subtly sensing client’s needs and desires.
I think that sensitivity carries over beyond clients, although their cash tips from me have been few and far between. Steve insisted on paying more than I asked for the P-160, so I guess that is another hull that comes with a lifetime guarantee. I’d love to have them both back in the shop anytime.
Too soon the Loon headed up the driveway.
PB030015 by
Mike McCrea, on Flickr
Followed closely by the P-160
PB030016 by
Mike McCrea, on Flickr
All of the boats got red flags with prismatic reflective tape. Joel and I have both noted that the winky blinky of the reflective tape in car headlights at night keeps people from riding our bumpers. Blessed is the red flag with reflective tape; I detest tailgaters, especially glaring headlights in the mirrors at night.
Shop visitors departed, I was
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=D_P-v1BVQn8But not for long. Tom and Finn stopped by the next day, en route back from paddling the Conowingo Pool. Tom described his route in great detail, even after I gave him a map and mentioned that I had done that same route just two days before. Finn laid on the shop floor drooling. Or maybe it was the other way around.
Tom soon headed out, with a box of needed Torx bits, and a suggestion that he lighten his poling canoe, a Vermont-era glass Explorer, by taking out two of the three seats I had originally installed for use as a family canoe. He only ever uses the bow seat backwards, and that rarely when poling.
That should read “FINALLY lighten his poling canoe”; I’ve been after him for 10 poling use years to remove those superfluous seats, the largest unoccluded area in his poling Explorer is less than 2’ long between seats and thwarts, but that task would require 20 minutes work with a screwdriver and socket wrench.
Tom wants a Millbrook Coho. When he finally gets one I’ll help offset the cost and offer him $100 for that now worn out freebie glass Explorer. Another once-mine canoe could return to the shop decade’s later, and retro benefit from accumulated outfitting experience.