October 13-16 — Propylene Glycol Is In and GOC Was Celebrated

 

 During two work days on which other tasks were performed as well, the antifreeze was used to expel salt water and fresh water from all of ILENE’s systems that had them. On the first day I get set up, gaining access to all the places where funnels into which the propylene glycol could be poured and inserting funnels and hoses. Thus the boat was rather thoroughly torn apart. Next day my friend and book group member, David, helped me accomplish the task. We drove out to the Huguenot, where both of our boats are hauled but not close to each other. One  at a time, we turned on the three pumps involved while either he poured while I watched or I poured while he watched. The watching is for the propylene  glycol, which is pink, to come out at the end of the line, meaning the hose and its attachments are completely filled with p.g. Hot and cold, three sinks and three shower heads, the deck wash pump, the water maker’s filter and most importantly, the Diesel engine. Then, while David did other things on “Hidden Hand” I put everything back together again aboard ILENE. A pleasant day, punctuated by lunch at the Harlem, for me to use up my remaining “chits” (mandatory dining expenditure) during a visit to City Island where David got some things he needed from his locker at the City Island YC.

Saturday night at five PM, on a weekend selected for when the tide is high at that time of day, was the Harlem Yacht Club’s 139th annual Going Out of Commission ceremony, marking the formal end of the sailing season. It and GIC are the only two times we wear coats and ties. Each GOC is rather like the last but changes do trickle in  slowly. This year the National Anthem and Taps for lowering the American Flag were played by a team of two women (on trumpet and keyboard) who later played inside during the post ceremonial libation.  Sadly our Commodore and his wife could not be present; she has Covid, no longer usually fatal but a nuisance.

One change, that did not work, was the erection of a big plastic tent over the porch.
Apparently  intended to protect us in case of cold or inclement weather, it’s effect was to block the folks locked behind it from hearing the speeches. I recall a time, many of my 30 years at the Club ago, when the heavens opened up torrentially during the brief ceremony. All of us retreated to the upstairs ballroom to observe the lowering of the eight flags through the windows while the chief launch operator, clad in follies and directed via a portable VHF radio, lowered all the flags in their proper order. Past Commodores saluting:

I did not “catch the moment”, but smoke from the firing of the ceremonial cannon is still visible behind the tan coat of the official photographer:

And here are the eight flags, lowered but not yet folded, at the base of the flagpole:

What I should have shot were pictures of the huge spreads of delicious foods both at buffet tables and with a never ending stream of passed hors d’oeuvres. I guess it started shortly before 6 and at at about 7:30 the main course buffet started. All delicious. We left at about 8, before the deserts came out.  I guess I’m an over eater and a party pooper. The dancing was just starting. Our caterer, Anne, did herself proud.