SV Gallant Fox

Decibel Level Estimated at 75-85

Meet Odin.

He’s the construction barge-with-crane that the Port of Seattle has retained to rebuild the docks hereabouts at Shilshole Marina . Odin’s shown here, working on the dock next to ours. He’s been roughly 100 feet from the Fox since about the week before Thanksgiving 2006. He’s very good at what he does, every weekday the weather allows. (The weather has been so bad since November 2006, Odin hasn’t been able to work all the time; plus those pesky holidays slowed work down; so now it’s Desperation Time for Odin.) Here’s a typical weekday schedule on our dock in this here marina:

7:00am - Odin’s engines start.

7:30am - backup beepers start sounding - but not from Odin. Oh: I forgot - in addition to the dock construction, the railroad track onshore, ¼ mile away from the Fox, is adding a new track for the Sounder commuter train. In addition to the current Sounder track line. In addition to the BNSF commercial train line. In addition to the Amtrak line. The backup beepers come from BNSF’s various construction equipment.* It’s All Trains, All The Time around here.**

7:45-8:30am - Odin starts with the pile driving. And/or chain saws. And/or, there’s jackhammering happening at the onshore demolition projects.

3:00-5:00pm - BNSF, Odin, and everybody else stop for the day.

Ever lived next to a pile driver? On deck, the dock work sounds like your average construction site next door. But under water; for example, when one is inside one‘s own boat - oh, lordy. Imagine getting a dental filling replaced. It’s like THAT. For 40-45 minutes per pile. After which it takes Odin 15 minutes to position the next pile. Then the pile driving starts again. Lather, rinse, repeat. This construction barge is aptly named - Odin is, after all the Norse god of thunder.

Trying to mind one’s own business does not distract. GB’s tried to drown out Odin’s pile driving ways with playing music on board at maximum volume. Ineffective. Working with power tools on various boat projects: ineffective. The most the two of us have been able to endure, is 2 pile driving sessions. Pain and pressure settle in the areas of our skulls, right above the joints of our upper jaws, at about where our Eustachian tubes are located. It hurts, man. The only viable option is to abandon ship.

Have I mentioned that there are no longer any spotted ratfish, crabs, sea stars, or even anemones around here? They’ve either died, swum away, or gone mad. The marina is empty of the usual critters. Only a few very hungry cormorants, great blue herons, and Barrow’s goldeneye are still hanging around with an abnormally low number of crows and herring gulls. I suspect most of these birds have switched to feeding on the other side of the breakwater away from Odin, and just come into the marina to pick off the few foolish fish who have stayed behind and become completely disoriented from all the vibration. I’ve also seen a small harbor seal occasionally surface in the fairway after Odin‘s work hours, look around, say “Damn!” and resubmerge.

We have many projects that require our presence on the boat; but alas, thanks to BNSF and Odin, our time is not our own. Our best noise avoidance tactic is to pack for the day’s events and errands the night before. As early as possible in the morning, we leave with our gym bags, paperwork, phone, business telephone numbers, and anything else constructive that we can think of to do for at least a 6 hour period. Golly - it’s almost like being….

BACK ON THE JOB.

* Note to self: let BNSF know that all their vehicles are equipped with forward gears. They don’t have to spend all day driving in reverse like they do now, poor souls.

** Literally, All The Farkin’ Time. We get trains running past us 24/7/365. Diesel fumes leave a very oily, difficult-to-clean, black residue on things like boats and boat canvas. (Ask us how!) Depending on the time of day (and whether or not a wintertime mudslide blocks the tracks), we get trains driving past every 20-45 minutes during daylight hours; somewhat less frequently when it’s dark. Examples: the 11pm train. The 2am train. The 5:30am train. The 7:00am train. The 7:20. And so on and etc. and blah grouchy blah. At least they usually don’t sound their horns at night. When they do during the day, despite the Fox being ¼ mile away normal speech and even shouting is completely drowned out. As normal speaking levels are 65dB and we can carry on a loud conversation when our boat’s engine is running (about 80dB), I estimate the trains’ horns at a minimum of 80dB. Every 20-45 minutes. Also? Different engineers use different horn sequences just to keep things interesting. I’ve heard so many trains go by, I can almost identify who the engineer is by how he leans on the horn. We’re getting killed here.

100% Unemployment Successfully Attained

Following GB’s lead, I left The Job on December 19, 2006. Boy, I’m sure going to miss that paycheck showing up every two weeks in the checking account via electronic magic. Bye-bye, Nice Money. Bye-bye. On the other hand, there are a few things I don’t expect to miss:

1. Getting my sorry carcass out of bed at 4:45 every morning, the better to catch a workout before going to The Job.

2. The twice daily commute to The Job by bus - that is, when the bus ran.* No more getting panhandled on the bus by the person sitting next to me; trying to ignore the other passengers’ shouting matches; or enduring a 20-minute commute that once every two weeks for various reasons took an hour and half. Sweet.

3. Dealing with The Job’s client population. I often tried to take to heart Inspector Clouseau’s remark about “life’s rich pageant,” but it just got old for me, trying to interact politely with the occasional unmedicated paranoid schizophrenic, parole violator and Level II and III sex offenders, as well as the more typical individual who, regardless of age, education or economic level managed to combine an extremely high level of entitlement with a breathtaking lack of perspective and problem solving skills.

It was nice to have my cubicle next to a window, though.

As counterintuitive as it is to voluntarily leave such a well-paying job - with benefits, yet - it’s all for the best that I quit when I did. I’m not cut out for employment. My mood generally runs the gamut from surly, through curt and sarcastic, all the way to spiny. Imagine my surprise at the very nice send-off I received from not only my coworkers, my boss, and HQ - but also from a couple of professional colleagues our office and I had worked with over the years. Had I only known how nice everyone would be to me at the end, I would have been much more unpleasant to everyone all along. Gosh.

As it is now, I hope that my past as a put-upon, low level federal bureaucrat has prepared me well for dealing with all the put-upon, low level federal bureaucrats and harbormasters I will meet as we sail from port to port. Maybe GB and I will still be able to speak fluent Bureaucratese with them, even if we don’t have any other language in common.

* All I will say is, if a transit authority’s response to an intersection-blocking collision, a half inch of snow, an earthquake, or nuclear holocaust is the same - i.e., discontinuing service completely until someone else solves the problem, it’s not so much “a contingency plan” as it is “an unprofessional small-town passive-aggressive deferral of responsibility.” Fear the Seattle Metro.

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