Surprise Stay

After an afternoon of sailing and one failed attempt to dock at the very crwoded Cunningham's Creekside (a restaurant off of Harrod's Creek around Prospect, Ky), my wife (Linda) and I decided that it would be a lovely night to grab a pizza, eat on the boat, and spend a night on the water.

This was not done without some preparation.  We had to run by Wal-Mart to get a red/green bow light (mine is not currently connected which should be fixed soon), as well as some water for the boat.  But soon that was done, we had our pizza (Linda got wings), and we were heading out across the Ohio to a little cove that one of our dock neighbors (really nice older guy with a beard and tattoos who sails a Venture 19 I believe) had recommended.  The view was beautiful and the reflection of the full moon on the water was really something else.

We eventually got anchored (my anchor line was too short so we had to anchor close to shore...not a big problem for a light swing keel like a Mac 25) and settled down to dinner.  The pizza was a little cold, but we were glad to have it.  Linda's wings were pretty warm, and she was generous enough to share a couple with me.  All in all, we were both quite pleased: our little cabin made for a cozy little dinner spot.

Then, we settled down in the V-berth for a little late night movie (Forrest Gump).  While we passed off the ipad to one another, Linda had a stroke of genius: maybe we could mount the ipad if we opened the forward hatch just right.  Sure enough, it worked!  It was light having a proper TV!

Eventually, Linda went to sleep and I retired to the cockpit.  Even later, I finally gave it up: I lowered the table, converted the sitting area into another berth.  I laid down to the gentle (almost nonexistent) rocking of the waves.

What I didn't expect was the constant- constant-  CONSTANT buzzing of, you guessed it: mosquitos.  Every second one would buzz by.  I'd wait for it to land, kill it, then another would come by.  It was endless.  After a couple hours of this, I heard Linda move.  I asked if she was getting any sleep.  She mostly wasn't.

I turned on the light.  Linda gets up, looks around at the number of mosquitos on the walls (it was not and inconsiderable number), and says "Let's go home." I had no issues with this request.  We went back to the dock, tied up, and were in our own beds by 3.

It wasn't a great ending, but it wasn't a wasted night: our dinner was lovely, and it was great to be out on the water in such beautiful conditions.  All in all, this was another learning experience.

Overnight Boating Lesson #1: Prepare to keep out mosquitos and other insects

We are campers and are used to this one, but usually you can duck in the tent when it's real bad.  But with a boat, that boat is both your campground and your sleeping area.  It's already been exposed to the mosquitos and insects, unlike a tent where you just crawl in to finally get some shut eye.

Next time, we will be ready: citronella candles and mosquito netting will be the order of the day.

Flash Flood.

It rained. 

Thank GOD the folks at Juniper Beach told me to turn my bow toward the creek and not the river (they had told me the opposite earlier, but  I am still very grateful).  I don't know if my dock lines could have held if all that rushing water had been pressing against a flat stern.

Can you imagine all this water pushing on the transom of the boat? 

 

 

Lesson #1: Leave your boat facing upstream when tied up on a creek.

 

You wouldn't believe how this little O'Day was writhing and rolling against the current.  She made it through the flash flood okay, but ended up coming down on top of the vertical 4x4s on the dock.  No damage, from what I can tell.

 

 

Can you imagine how this would have gone if I hadn't fixed that hose in the drain?!

Lesson #2: Always fix what you can as soon as you can

Since then, the water level has just kept going up.  I believe it's almost to 18 feet now.  My boat is safe at a floating dock, but more on that later!

 

Cheers!



 



WHY IS MY BOAT FULL OF WATER?!!

First of all: My boat is fine now.  Let's just get that part out of the way. 


After my buddy came up from South Carolina, I got really busy and I wasn't on the boat for a couple of weeks.  A couple of very rainy weeks.  Which is whatever.  The cockpit drains out the back of the boat so no worries there.  And the river didn't rise enough for me to have to adjust the dock lines so I'm good there too.

Yet, when I came back to my boat and opened the cover to the companionway, I was greeted with the sound of sloshing, and I saw waves on the floor... On the floor?  Yep, my cabin was full of water.  Well, not full.  But it was about 3" of water towards the companionway.

Why? I wondered.  Maybe the companionway wasn't closed enough?  Maybe the keel bolt was leaking?  It was probably just the rain, I decided.  Or it probably would have more water in it.

Well, I set my pump to work.  Came back shortly, and it was still pumping.  Wow, I thought, the bilge must be bigger than I thought!  So the next time I left it pumping all night.  When I checked on it the next morning,  it was still pumping.

Not only was it still pumping, but the water level was exactly the same. That's when I figured out what the problem must be: the cockpit drain. 

You see, the bilge is set up to pump into the cockpit, which drains outside of the boat.  But if something were wrong with that drain, it would leak right back inside and you'd end up endlessly pumping the same water in a vicious cycle.  The water level would stay the same.

I did some research (because the instructions for the Mac 25 are so bare bones, they are not very helpful) and found out that the drain leads to a hose...then that hose leads to a through-hole in the transom.  Surely, I reasoned, the hose must have come loose.  That must be it.

Thus, I began the exhausting process of removing the foam, wallowing around in bilgewater, opening up access to the transom under the seats, squeezing in said area (no easy task...I'm not a small man), and then inspecting the hose.

Long story short: I was right.  Boy was it a task to replace the thing.  I had a little help from a fellow sailor with getting the thing reattached, but the honor of wallowing around in the bilgewater (also full of anchor chain rust) and crawling into the dark to contort into a proper shape for actually working in there was mine.

But I got it done!  And I feel pretty good about diagnosing my first big boat issue- and about fixing it (mostly) on my own.  After all, what sailor is worth his salt if he can't take care of his boat?

Hopefully it will be smooth sailing for at least another good spell.

Cheers!

PS: Wish I had taken some pictures.  I might try and find some or stage some similar ones, idk.

First Race, OR: 2/2 is Still Second Place

 

 

Some of you may or may not remember that I got invited to join the crew of a 36 ft S2 11.0 for the Wednesday races at my local yacht club (thanks to the local crew bucket listing).  The boat is owned by a really nice couple (whose names I won't include since I haven't asked their permission), and I had been looking forward to competing.

 

Well, that first Wednesday race finally came.

 

We left early to get me used to handling the lines on a larger boat, tacking back and forth up and down the Ohio for a bit.  We were the first boat out. 

 

 

 

Then, the committee boat came out- I was told it must be the committee boat because they were anchored.  Though I wasn't sure what committee was for a moment, I collected that committee boat = judges boat.  So, this was the boat where everyone recorded times and observed the race.

 

We were in the last class, Spinnaker A I believe.  I was pleased to hear that there was only one other boat in this class, which meant we got 2nd place no matter what.  I figured that would be great, as it would sound great when I bragged about it on my blog/ fb.  I didn't have to mention that there were only two boats (though I guess I kind of blew that just now...ah well).

 

The other classes (Lower classes, I asserted airily, nose held high) and entrants began to flood out of the marina (almost all of them from Limestone Bay) in a neat little unplanned line.  I smiled as sail after sail appeared out of the mouth of the inlet.  It was more sailboats than I had ever seen, really.  It was quite the sight, to the eyes of someone new like me.

 

 

On they went, until it was finally time for our class.  The other boat in our class went racing ahead, heeling over probably 25 degrees...then more...then more...which was starting to concern us because they were getting very close to the committee boat.  They were rounding the committee boat to make it to the starting line, but boy were they cutting it close. 

 

Steer away...steer away...steer away! But as they rounded the stern of the committee boat, so to did they heel even further.  So far that, apparently to me, the rudder was not biting.  And they were not easing the sheets, either.  I was amused but not entirely surprised to hear a loud THUD come form their direction.  The small heeling boat had hit the committee boat!  Not only had a collision occurred, but they hit the judges!  Ha ha! 

Oh, pipe down, everyone was fine, I'm not that big of a jerk for laughing!

 

I also might not should have laughed, because they beat us pretty bad. Up to the mark we went, making one more tack than we would have liked, back round we came...and finally we crossed the finish line.  But not before we had lost most of the wind that blew so nicely earlier. 

 

 

It was interesting to see how the strategy of tacking and timing your tacks so that you angle past the buoy correctly  came into play in the real world, and to crew such a nice, big boat.  And the company was enjoyable, as always.

 

But when it was all said and done, we came in last place.  Which is to say we finished second!  Either way you look at it, it was a pretty great day, and I had my first race behind me. 

 

Prepare to Repel Boarders!

Okay, so I probably won't be repelling any boarders.  Or boarding any other boats.  But I thought it would be cool to hang my own saber (well technically it's a 1850 Staff & Field Officer's Sword...wrong era and even country but it looks good) in my own Surprise.  Just like in this Surprise:

 

It's not sharp or anything, but it looks cool and adds +5 modifier when channeling my inner Jack Aubrey.

 

Because what's life if you can't have fun with it? ;)

She Has a Name

My boat has a name now.  My lettering finally came in (got mine for 26 bucks from do it yourself lettering) and I applied it last night.

I have named her the Surprise, both because it was such a shock that I was given the boat and because it was Jack Aubrey's favorite command (in the books and the movie too).

Hit a Tree...

NOTE: This was last Wednesday, I think

14 MPH winds + 20 MPH gusts.  It sounded like a blast

I can't hardly wait to get out on the water.  The trees are rustling and, while I'm sure I won't be able to use all 150% of my Genoa, the wind is blowing and we are gonna be MOVING.

I start the motor, and we head out of the creek to the Ohio.  But you know what?  The wind pushes boats pretty hard.  Which is fine.  I'm used to powering a boat around in the wind.  But it turns out a 25' MacGregor/Venture does not handle like a 26' Chaparral deck boat.  This fact will shock no one but me-from-4-days-ago. 

The wind takes the boat and all H-E-Double-hockey-sticks breaks loose.  The bow starts turning to port (toward the trees), so I have to up the power on the outboard (which, also-not-shockingly...isn't as responsive as the giant mercury inboard on my dad's Chaparral).  Which was good, because a Bass boat was coming down the stream right toward us.  I ask about the fishing, he responds enthusiastically, and I turn back around abruptly because dodging this boat has put us on a path toward the low-lying branch...on the WRONG size of where it is cut off.

So, I back the motor and slow down.  Gonna have to adjust and try it again.  No big deal.  Better than to hit it with the mast trying to save face.

I cut the motor back around and put it in forward- as fast as I can because the bow is being pushed back again and we are very swiftly heading toward the bank.  I power up, but the motor doesn't want to stay down!  It's not pushing!  The man in the Bass boat very helpfully asks if it has a lock.  It does, but I already locked it down so this is quite baffling. 

I figure it couldn't be anything else so I adjust it again, just in time to miss- no wait, I meant to say hit- a big cut off trunk sticking out of the bank.  It strikes the bow on the port side just as I get the motor locked down (again...I've now figured out that it can vibrate loose).  This, after a frenzied minute or so of my wife frantically (well, frantically for her...she's a pretty cool customer most of the time...less so while pregnant) updating me about the location of our boat relative to said tree and bank.

But anyway, I hit it.  It was fine.  There's a teensy little scratch, but you wouldn't even notice it.  Right after, I maneuvered us back and away and then (outboard at full power) pushed our bow back toward the Ohio river.  The boat was fine, but my pride was wounded (seriously, why did it have to be in front of the only other sailor there? Lol).

Still and all, we got out onto the Ohio and hoisted sail.  That didn't turn out too well either.  We heeled that way, and heeled this way, almost always having to go right back into the wind.  And all the while my wife is getting frustrated and crying (she had been pretty emotionally stable- especially for being pregnant- until today...but it had been a long day) and we just aren't getting the headsail situated fast enough to do anything right.

I gave up.  I took down our sails, motored us back, and docked...only to find out that I was in the wrong spot (the wrong slip number was on the form I signed).  So I moved and docked again- and AGAIN (wrong place the second time)- and finally made everything ship shape and left.

WHEW!

Lesson of the day: little outboards need a lot of power to overcome the wind sometimes; the wing nut that locks down the motor mount can jiggle loose.  Keep tightening it!

My Luff is Luffing: One Word, Two Meanings

My luff is luffing!  That sounds redundant, or maybe just obvious.  Of course the luff is luffing.  It's got the word in it!  Except that it could also be the leech that is luffing. 

Wait.  Do what now?

Yeah, luff is actually two things: two words that mean different things.  One is a verb, and the other is a noun.

Source: http://www.seatalk.info/

Luff (noun)

As you can see, the luff is the forward edge on a three-sided sail.  Note that that is also the case for the triangular headsail, even though it's not the vertical part:

So that's what the luff is- the noun form.  Okay?  Okay.  Let's muddy the water a little then, shall we?


Luff (verb)

Here's the definition: to  turn gradually toward the eye of the wind so that the sails begin to take air on the lee side and shake.  There's more to it than that, but that's the gist.

When the sail is full, it's taut- it's tight and forms that nice shape we all love.  That's because the majority of the air around it is being caught by one side.  But change that so that the air is going over both sides, and the sail flops around- sometimes like crazy.

According to the definition above, that isn't the definition of luffing, but it is what happens when you luff.

But, in my (limited) experience, that's not how people talk about it.  People mostly seem to talk about luffing as something that happens to the sails.

Technically that's incorrect, but I've heard it a lot so in case you do to, here's the other colloquial definition: 


Luff (technically incorrect verb that everyone seems to use) and what it means to you

Definition: the sails are flopping around because you're too close to the wind or the sheets aren't tight enough.

According to this definition, the sails themselves can luff.  This can happen on the leading edge of the sail (the luff....the noun version now)...or the trailing edge (the leech).

If the luff (noun again) is the part that is luffing, then you're probably too close to the wind.  .

If the leech is luffing, then you probably need to trim the sheet a little tighter.

That's the long and short of it.  It may not all be technically correct, but this is some confusing stuff as it was explained to me.  Hopefully, it will be helpful.

If not, here's some more info from people who know WAAAY more than I do:
http://www.nauticed.org/freesailingcourse-m2-3

And if you have questions, people who know more can also answer it here:
http://www.reddit.com/r/sailing/

Happy sailing, friends!

Oh Yeah, My Boat Has a Mast: Why You Should Fear Trees

This will be a quick one, and you already know what happened from the title.

I took my buddy, his wife, and their two kids (about 2 and 6) to eat at Cunningham's Creekside, a local restaurant that is on the creek (duh).

No wind.  Like, at all.

Fine.

We just headed straight to Cunningham's, which was fine.  It was the day before Derby and there was a big to-do over at Captain's Quarters (nice place but mostly too rich for my blood....erm, pocketbook).  It looked like a lot of fun and we waved as we turned into Harrod's Creek. 

We puttered along nicely, trees and some wildlife passing slowly by on the port side.  I dodged limbs and other stuff left in the water from the flood.

Food was good, as usual.  We left afterward and headed back to Limestone Bay. 

Now this part is pretty funny.  I undid the hitches from the cleats, asking my buddy to hold onto the railing so we didn't drift away, then I got in the boat and prepared to put it in reverse.

Me: "Okay, go ahead and give us a little push away, you don't have to push hard or anything"

Friend: "Just push it away?"

Me: "Yeah."

So, that's what he did.  He pushed us away.  And there we are, staring at him on the dock as we drift slowly away.

"Get on!!"

"What?!"

"______, You're supposed to GET ON THE BOAT when you shove off!"

"Oh!"

We throw a line to him and he's good to go, but that was a lesson learned: skippers should be very specific in their instructions.  Next time I will not assume that someone knows to jump back ON the boat.


Now, pay attention to this part, newbies (like me):

On the way in, the trees were on the far bank.  Not so while coming back.  The first indication I had of this fact was the rustling of trees above my head and the light pressure of leaves falling on my shoulder.

I looked up and, lo and behold, someone had placed a mast on my boat!  Not only that, it went quite a ways up- far enough to graze some of the lower-hanging tree branches!  I hadn't thought of that at all, and hadn't noticed!  Frankly, I was lucky that all I did was graze the branches.

Okay.  Watch the trees and the mast.  Lesson learned.  Whew!

The rest of the trip was, thankfully, uneventful.

Maiden Voyage: A Skipper is Born

 

 

 

So I'm on my free boat, showing it to my parents- well, to my mom.  Dad came up the day I got the keys to look at it (guy was SO stoked, almost as excited as I was!).  And I look around, there's a slight breeze so I say "let's just go now!"

There were no objections.

 

Dad and I jump to it.  Dad, thankfully, is a bit of a sailor- and a heck of a powerboat skipper.  He also used to sail a little Hobie 16, so he's a great help as we figure out where the foot/clew/tack are and how everything attaches.  In a surprisingly short time (especially since we had to figure out how the roller worked with the jib, which has a wire luff like a second stay), we have the sails ready to go.

 

We putter along out of Limestone Bay.  Linda puts us into the wind with admirable precision for a first-timer, and then we haul on the halyards and she's under power!

 

...sort of.  There's not much wind.  In fact, there's practically none...

 

A gust hits, and I hear that sound that we all love so dearly...the sound of sails filling, and of water sliding by.  We were sailing!

 

My elation (and my wind) lasted about 6 minutes before an almost dead calm.  Not only that, but the Ohio had flooded recently and the currents were very strong.  So we furled sail, started the motor, and headed back in.

 

All in all, it was a pretty successful first trip.  There was some confusion about how much we should ease the jib when sailing downwind, and whether both sheets should be used when sailing into the wind, but we were able to make and hoist sail, as well as trim sheets and tack successfully.  Considering my experience is only 4 Saturdays the previous year plus a few trips 10 years ago with Dad (the entirety of my dad's experience too), I figure that's nothing special- but not bad either.

 

I was pleased.  I guess I'm a skipper now.  Time to get working on becoming a good one.

 

 

 

Someone Gave Me a Boat

Yep. 

Not long after I decided to write this blog, I decided I wanted to get some more experience sailing.  After all, I was probably going to buy a boat soon- probably in a few years.  So, I go to my local sailing club's website (Derby City Sailing Club).  They have a "Crew Bucket" which is kind of like a dating site where boats and crew can meet and hook up.

So, I filled out my profile, experience (none, except a 4-day sailing class), and other information.  Promises of alcohol were featured prominently in my ad.  Soon, I heard from an interested party.  A couple needed crew for their 36 foot S2 for local races.  It sounded like great experience, so I agreed.

About a week later, I got another call from an unknown number.  Expecting to have to turn an offer to crew down, I picked up.  The conversation that followed went something like this.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Me: Hello?

Caller: Hi, is this Brent Dudgeon?

Me: Yes, this is he. 

Caller: Okay, well, I saw your name in the Crew Bucket for Derby City Sailing Club...

Me: Ah, yeah.

Caller:  Now, I don't need a crew, I'm actually giving a boat away...

Me: (stunned and slightly suspicious silence)
Caller: Do you think you might be interested?

Me: ..................Yeah!   I mean, you're just getting rid of it?

Caller: Well yeah, I've had it a while, and I just don't really sail it any more, and I'm lookin' to just sorta....pass it on.

Me: (Still somewhat suspicious, but not wanting to look a gift horse in the mouth) Well, that's very generous of you!  Yeah, I'd LOVE to have a sailboat!  I mean, as long as there's no big fees or unpaid slip fees or something like that

Caller: Oh yeah, there's nothing like that, but [caller explains that he needs to get rid of it soon because the slip is only paid for through May 10th]

Me:  Well, I have to double check with my wife, but I think I can say with about 90% chance that I'm your man!

Caller: Well, great.

[we go on to set up a tentative meeting]

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

We met up at the boat a few days later, and I was absolutely flabbergasted to find the boat in GREAT shape.  It was extremely well-cared-for, to my eye, and had only been owned by the man: no previous owners.

The man went over everything about the boat- a 1981 Macgregor 25- and showed me where everything- including a jib, genoa, main, and even spinnaker w/ pole- was.  Then he handed over the keys, and with no more ceremony than a salute and congratulations, he headed off.  I had a boat!

Still just a little suspicious (but not very- he seemed legit), I began cleaning the boat.  No less than a week later, I had registration and a title in my name, and I was on the water!

And so, that's how I got a free boat!  I am so very thankful to the man- such generosity is practically unheard of!  The guy has got a very generous heart, and I intend to put his boat to good use!

Is there a lesson here or a trick to get your own sailboat?  I'm afraid not.  There are free sailboats out there, but from what I've heard they take a lot of work and need new sails/ rigging, etc. 

But you know what?  There are generous people out there who just want to pass on enjoyment to the next person.  And I think that's pretty great.

Cool Stuff I Found: Video of the USS Constellation Setting Sail

This is pretty cool.  It's a video of the US Navy performing a drill to set sails on the USS Constellation (build in 1864).  The video is from 1900.  Note the guys climbing up the ratlines to do their work.

This vessel is not to be confused with the heavy frigate USS Constitution, which is much older and larger (and famous).

You can visit the USS Constellation in Baltimore, she's a lovely vessel, and a joy to tour.  Find out more about her and about visiting the Constellation here: http://www.historicships.org/constellation.html

What You're Calling a Crow's Nest Propbably Isn't One

Ah, the Victory!  Her beauty and power is perhaps matchless.  One can only imagine the salty old sea dogs of her day setting sail, running back and forth, climbing up and watching from the crow's nest.

The thing is, the Victory doesn't have a crow's nest.  In fact, many square rigged vessels (anything most people would call a  "pirate ship")- especially Navel vessels- didn't. 

What we see on the Victory- what many of us would call a crow's nest- is in fact called  a Top, or Fighting Top. 

                                                 Hi.  I'm called a top.  Don't call me a crow's nest, or I'll tell my dad!
Its purpose is to provide a platform for the crew, and to give the Marines (or whoever) an elevated position from which they could pick off enemies- or even throw grenades, etc. 

Tops are also- and this is important- designed to spread the rigging of the ship so that the shrouds (the ropes that hold the mast from going sideways...the vertical part of the ladder-looking things) could better hold the masts upright- to stop the mast from falling to either side.

 

                                  Hi, it's me, Top, again.  Without me, your topmast might fall over.   You're welcome.


A crow's nest, on the other hand, doesn't typically do either of those things (there are probably exceptions, and I am a fallible source of anything but broad information).   No, a crow's nest is made for observation.  And pretty much just observation.

                                                                                 Pictured: an actual crow's nest.  At the very top of the mast.

This picture above is a crow's nest.  It's about at the top of the mast, and it's like a basket (some looked like barrels).  It's not wide enough to really help much with the mast, it's not a great place to shoot guns.  It's basically just the highest point on the ship, and it's got that nice little basket to make it safe.  It's a great place to look over the horizon and see what's coming.

There are probably other kinds of crow's nests, but on the whole, but that is typically the difference.  My apologies for the title if you already knew the difference- many do.  But a lot of people don't.

And if you didn't know, now you do!

The Purpose of this Blog/ Note to Readers

I am no seaman, but I have a great amount of enthusiasm for ships, boats, sailing, and seamanship- as well as the history of those subjects- particularly of Nelson's Navy.  I've spent plenty of time on boats, read all of the Aubrey-Maturin series, and a few Horatio Hornblower books here and there...but I am no seaman.  Nor am I a historian.

But, I'm doing my best to remedy these shortcomings, and I want you to come with me.

I've taken a sailing class, I'm reading A Young Officer's Sheet Anchor, and I'm scheduled to volunteer as a crew trainee on the Kalmar Nyckel (www.kalmarnyckel.org) later this year.  It is my intention to document my experiences, and make note information that cleared up any questions or uncertainties I may have had before I started expanding my horizons (literally, in this case). 

It is my hope that the information I glean from my experiences will be helpful to others who are where I am now: landlocked, with no more information than the internet and some movies and TV shows (and fictional books) can supply.

And for those of you who are already seamen, welcome!  Maybe you will enjoy revisiting some experiences you might share from when you first struck out to become a sailor.  Or maybe you can help answer some questions landsmen like myself might have!

A note to all readers: I am a beginner in seamanship and sailing, and therefore my information is not to be entirely relied upon.  If you think something is wrong, please let me know.  When reading this blog, please keep in mind that this is a record of my perceptions as I grow as a sailor, and as such is subject to my own misunderstandings or misconceptions.  I check most of my info, but some of it might not be right- so take it with a grain of salt! (no pun intended, I'm so sorry you guys)

Welcome all, really.  I'm excited to grow and learn as a sailor.  Maybe I'll help someone else along the way!

TL; DR: I'm a beginner and am not a super-reliable source of information.  I'm hoping that other people who are new to sailing can maybe find a place they can at least relate to.  And that the information here can at least clarify some issues or questions, even if it's not the whole answer.

Besides, it will be fun to look back and see how much stuff I got wrong!