Length Matters

[goonstroke]

Close, but the Shawnee's main village, Chillocothe was near the headwaters of the Little Miami river, near current day Xenia, Ohio. As I drive through the area, I often try to imagine the corn fields, lodges, and grand lodge, surrounded by hills of chestnut, hickory and elms, all gone now, like the Shawnee.

I have relatives in Circleville, which, to the disapointment of all visitors, is now quite square. At least the name survives.

 

[memaquay]

To each his (or her) own, personally I would not let that crappy nylon rope ANYWHERE near my hands for anything.

Meh, I usually use cheap blue poly tarps too. Been through that phase of spending oodles of money on gear, but got over it. I've lined some nasty stuff with the yellow poly, not sure what the issue is, always does what rope is supposed to do, and is light as heck. Haven't notice it burning through my hands or anything.

 

[Guest]

Yeah, I like clean lines too. It's challenging enough to avoid rocky snags as it is.

That, rocky snags while working the lines or, worse case scenario, losing control of a line and having it end up floating free in the river. Worst case scenario, losing control of the canoe or having it dump and go merrily floating downrapids trailing knotted lines.

 

[Odyssey]

I worked for a time in the steel mills, whereupon I met Gus. Gus was from "down east", a Maritimer from I don't remember which province. In any case me and Gus worked as "safety men", supplying breathing apparatus, fire suppression etc in hazardous work locations. I was amazed how easily and quickly Gus could coil ropes and hoses. One gloved hand held a rag to wipe the oil and grime while working in fast fluid motion with the other gloved hand turning 100's of feet of snaky hose into perfectly neat coils every time. I asked him to show me how, and although it wasn't rocket science it was handy to learn. Another skill I didn't ask to learn, as it looked too complex, was braiding rope. He told me he'd worked some years on fishing boats and as he grew too old for that stayed ashore performing other tasks, such as maintaining gear. One day Gus gave me a tutorial in the various types of braids and fancy loops and things he could do with fast dexterous hands. He'd also explain which braid and configuration was useful for whatever application. It all went by too fast and little sunk in for me, except that I felt I was experiencing a bit of skill and lore from a bygone age. He said that nowadays the ropes were all store bought plastic, sturdy and strong, "but it's not the same, not the same..." Gus was a humble hard working man, and never gave me the impression he was showing off, rather he was showing me the rope skills that were once part of his heritage and history, and his past working life. Not sure how useful these might be to me, and although I could probably find How To's on the internet it would never be the same as when a Maritimer sat down with me over coffee and talked rope.

 

[Guest]

I worked for a time in the steel mills, whereupon I met Gus. Gus was from "down east", a Maritimer from I don't remember which province.

Another skill I didn't ask to learn, as it looked too complex, was braiding rope. He told me he'd worked some years on fishing boats and as he grew too old for that stayed ashore performing other tasks, such as maintaining gear. One day Gus gave me a tutorial in the various types of braids and fancy loops and things he could do with fast dexterous hands.

It all went by too fast and little sunk in for me

Brad, sometimes you get me right in the feels. My father spent 4 years on a destroyer escort, classified as “Sailmaker” IIRC. He could freaking sew anything from canvas to nylon, and lifelong always had the machines to do so. And do freaking magic with line or rope.

Sadly I never memory-learned either skill from him. I paid no interest to sewing then; it would sure be handy now.

About the “fast, dexterous hands”, my dad eventually managed to teach me basic square knotting techniques, producing different patterns from flat to (beyond me) helix twisted.

Some of the complex patterns were more bored Sailor decorative macramé than useful. At the most basic four strands of line tied off to some stationary point and his fingers would fly like he was doing some magic trick or Three Card Monte.

“Dad, go slow”
“I am going slow dammit. Now watch my fingers, this is how you do eight lines at a time.”

I eventually learned a couple of simple square knotting patterns, but the required flashing finger muscle memory is now long gone. Same for splicing line; he could not slow his fingers down.

 

[dougd]

You do paint a nice picture with your words Brad. I can see that even though I wasn't there. I knew a couple older gentlemen who tried to teach me knots talking directions the whole time while doing it. I can still picture and can still hear it but can't tie a know to save my life! Thanks for that narrative!

dougd

 

[Guest]

You do paint a nice picture with your words Brad. I can see that even though I wasn't there

Brad has a way of refreshing memories, some long repressed, even with something as simple as coiled line.

Or coiled welder cables. Many moons ago I worked on a fencing and welding crew, travelling around the far flung school district installing and repairing chain link fencing. The back of the welding truck had two hooks, one each for the electrode holder and earth clamp. 100 feet of thick cable each, so we could reach distant fences without driving across home plate.

I was instructed to put the electrical cable back on the truck hooks by carefully coiling it on the hook while standing adjacent. That was kind of a chore, and I had a better, faster idea; I would just coil the cord the lines around my arm starting at the far end, walk towards the truck and just drop the coil on the hook. Truly faster and easier, why did no one ever think of this before? Genius!

Shortly after I first tried that faster and easier method one electrical cord bounced free off the truck hook on the way back to the shop. One the metro-beltway. At rush hour. Three guys on the bench seat and it took a while for anyone to realize why every passing car was blowing their horn, shouting and pointing.

100 feet of thick cable, bounced clean off the hook, whipping and flailing across three lanes on the beltway. I left that job soon after, but not before accidentally setting fire to a wad of oily rags under the truck seat, also while driving around the beltway.

My career as a welder was not meant to be, and I think everyone was happier. Especially the commuters.