Editor's note: The following text was originally published in an undated published booklet "Ice Yachting Winter Sailboats Hit More Than 100 m.p..h.. by John A. Carroll with additional information from the "New York Times" article from February 8, 1978. The language, spelling and grammar of the article reflects the time period when it was written. For information about current ice boating on the Hudson River go to White Wings and Black Ice here. Ice yachting easily qualifies as the fastest winter sport in the world. Skiing? The ice yacht moves twice as rapidly. Bob-sledding? Nearly 25 m.p.h. faster. And ice yachts, unlike bob-sleds, do not have brakes. According to Ray Ruge, president of the Eastern Ice Yachting Association, the world ice yacht speed record over a measured course with flying start stands at 144 m.p.h. At Long Branch, N.J., Commodore Elisha Price in Walter Content's "Clarel" set the mark in February 1908, by covering one mile in 25 seconds. The time was clocked by five stop watches. The speed has been exceeded unofficially on several occasions. "From - Feb 6, 1978 - New York Times: Outdoors: Slipping Silently over the Ice by Fred Ferretti: One of the first lessons taught when you take up the speedy and somewhat dangerous sport of iceboating is to watch out for Christmas trees. Christmas trees mark thin ice or ice that has holes in it, that is rough and heavily pitted or that is overlaid with an invisible layer of water. These hazards can be disastrous to the spruce or fiberglass boats that tear across frozen rivers and lakes, sometimes at speeds of more than 100 miles an hour." While speed records remain a goal for winter sailors, most American ice yachtmen now center their attention on competitive racing and the annual regattas that have become an important part of the cold weather sports scene. Keen spectator and participant interest in this old sport are comparatively recent developments. Ice yachting, of necessity, has a limited appeal. There are few sections in the country where cold weather and hard-frozen lakes make the sport practicable. Moreover, the high cost of constructing the large yachts popular at the turn of the century restricted the sport to the very wealthy. The weather factor has remained fairly constant and ice yachting still is confined to a few choice locations - mainly in the American-Canadian border states and provinces. However, the financial requirement has undergone a radical change. The organization of the International Skeeter Association in 1939 is, to a large degree, responsible for the current boom in the sport. The "Skeeters," which are limited to 75 square feet of sail and cost as little as a few hundred dollars to build, outraced the larger boats in most of last year's major regattas. Approximately 75 per cent of all present ice boat construction follows this design. There are still large boats on the ice, although initial building expenses and prohibitive transportation costs have held construction to a minimum during the last few years. The two largest yachts currently in active competition are “Deuce”, owned by Clare Jacobs of Detroit and piloted by Joe Snay of the same city, and “Debutante”, owned by the Van Dyke family of Wisconsin and skippered by John Buckstaff of Oshkosh. Both yachts carry 600 sq. ft. of heavy Wamsutta sail cloth, but the “Deuce” is the longer of the two. The Detroit yacht, which is a thing of picturesque beauty with its huge jib-and-mainsail rig, is 52 feet in length and carries a 52-foot high mast. Its solid, springy runner plank measures 30 feet across. ![]() The Last of the Stern-Steerers: A starting lineup on Lake Winnebago at Oshkosh, Wisconsin. Left to right: “Debutante III”, Oshkosh I.Y.E., “Deuce”, Detroit I.Y.C. and “Flying Dutchman”, Oshkosh I.Y.E. Race won by “Deuce” shod with 8 ft. runners because of soft ice. Ray Ruge Collection, Hudson River Maritime Museum. To the non-scientist, it seems unbelievable that any craft backed only by a stiff wind, can hit 100 miles an hour or better. The secret is the reduction of surface friction to just a few inches of sharp steel runner slipping across the ice, plus the small air resistance offered by a streamlined fuselage. Once an ice boat gets underway, the friction becomes almost negligible. And the speed is created by a partial vacuum of air currents ahead of the sail which pulls the craft forward until the boat is traveling from three to six times the velocity of the wind. Little is known of the origin of ice boats, although it has been established that Scandinavians in the Middle Ages were using a workable craft. Chapman's "Architecture Navalis Mercatoria" of 1768 mentions the sport by describing an ice yacht with a converted hull, a cross piece and a runner at each end. The Poughkeepsie Ice Yacht Club, an organization leaning to men of wealth and leisure, was organized in 1861. Using large, expensive craft, the club members specialized in racing trains along the river banks. The engineer tooted the whistle and passengers cheered, as the yachtsmen accepted the challenge and a contest was on. At the turn of the 20th century, new and more complete organizations began to take place. In 1912, new sportsmen formed the Northwestern Ice Yachting Association at Oshkosh, Wis., to embrace clubs in 'the Illinois, Michigan and Wisconsin region. Sail expanse classifications were drawn up to promote competition. As interest in the sport drew and new boats were built in greater numbers, new classifications were established. The Northwestern Association now lists the following: Class A, up to 350 square feet of sail; Class B, up to 250; Class C, up to 175; Class D, 125; Class E, 75. ![]() Sailing preparations are underway in the yacht basin at Hamilton, Ont., as enthusiasts ready their boats for the day's activity. Yachtsmen pray for blustery, windy weather to ensure higher racing speeds. The sport, which is aging in new followers every year, attracted an estimated 3,000 participants this winter. Ray Ruge Collection, Hudson River Maritime Museum. Patterning itself after the Northwestern, a group of eastern ice yachting enthusiasts met in 1937 at the Larchmont (N.Y.) Yacht Club to form the Eastern Ice Yachting Association. There are, however, a few differences in classification. The eastern body calls the up-to-250 square-foot group Class X, instead of Class B, and the newer organization lists an up-to-200 square-foot sail area as Class B, a type not recognized by the Northwestern. In addition to the standard classifications, the Scooter and the D.N. 60 (Detroit News, 60 square feet of canvas) attract considerable attention. The Scooter, a remarkable amphibian which sails serenely on ice or in water, is the pride and joy of the South Bay Scooter Club, a member of the Eastern Association. It is believed that Coast Guardsmen, tired of long winter walks across ice for supplies, developed the first Scooter. They put runners on the bottom of one of their flat-bottomed sailboats and it worked. The boat has no rudder for water sailing and no movable runner for steering on ice. Direction is controlled only by shifting weight and sail handling. The D.N. 60 sprang from that Detroit newspaper's hobby shop, as an economical boys' sailing craft. It has turned out to be another case of the parents playing with their kids' electric trains. Adults love them. Their surprising speed and easy construction resulted in the building of almost 100 in the Detroit area alone. And the News now sponsors annual competitions on Lake St. Clair for their popular “baby.” The skeleton of an ice yacht is T-shaped, with the fuselage forming the long part, and a cross-piece or "runner plank" the horizontal. There are three runners or skates. The ones at each end of the runner plank are fixed. The steering runner, at the end of the fuselage, is moveable. Originally, all yachts were stern steerers. The runner plank was forward, the steering skate in the rear, behind the yachtsman's seat. Stern steerers have one pleasant advantage: boats using this design do not capsize easily. But the winter sailors wanted speed, and in the 1920's the Meyer brothers of Wisconsin began experimenting with bow-steering. Boats with bow-steering have the runner plank crossing the rear seat. The steering runner is at the front end of the fuselage. The bow steerer is faster - much faster. And sufficient pressure is kept on the steering runner to afford traction and maneuverability. But to counteract these advantages, the bow steerer spills more readily. Championship regattas of both the Northwestern and Eastern Associations are run in three-heat series to determine the champion of each class. The Northwestern winds up with a Free-for-All in which all classes are eligible. The Eastern concludes with an Open Championship limited to class titlists. With the present pre-eminence of the Skeeter, the International Skeeter Association Championship Regatta now is widely regarded as the "World Series" of the sport. The I.S.A. runs a five-heat series, weather permitting. The international character of the organization stems from the fact that it has member clubs in both the United States and Canada. Winners are determined on a point basis. Ice yachting's man of the year for 1947 probably was Jim Kimberly of Chicago, formerly of Neenah, Wis. Kimberly, who took his first ice boat ride at the age of five, won last year's International Skeeter Association title and the Northwestern Free-for-All. The 40-year-old executive is seeking additional titles this season in his 22-foot Skeeter, “Flying Phantom III”, one of several boats he owns. In racing, all boats are staggered at the starting line to give each entry unbroken wind. Lots are drawn for post positions and the order is reversed in successive heats. Races begin from a standing position, and here the yachtsman discovers the importance of a good pair of legs. At the crack of the gun he must take off like a sprinter for 25 to 50 feet, pushing his yacht to get "way" on her. Once underway, he needs all his skill to keep the boat moving. Inept handling stops the boat and the runners take a freezing grip on the ice. Then, out steps the yachtsman to give another starting push. This, of course, means a tremendous loss of face for the winter sailor. The sport is dangerous and thrilling. The most exciting moments come at the turning markers around which racers try to cut as sharply as possible. When one yacht overtakes another at this point, the leader is required to leave "stake room" (sufficient space) for the overtaking yacht to pass between him and the marker. Sometimes the cry is not heard, or a racer figures he has left sufficient room. Then the spectator sees two strong-willed ice yachtsmen tacking toward the stake at 90 miles an hour on sheer ice with no brakes to soften any possible collision. To make matters worse from the yachtsmen's point of view, the slightest touch of craft to marker means automatic disqualification from the race. Even pleasure cruising has its hazards. Good natural ice surfaces of sufficient size are rare. And these are subject to pressure ridges, weak ice and stretches of open water caused by currents and thaws. A quick plunge into icy water in the middle of winter with the nearest helping hand miles distant, is a sobering consideration for any frost-bitten sailor. The Detroit Ice Yachting Club has fostered one of the more exclusive organizations in the world - the Hell Divers. To be eligible, a yachtsman merely has to take the plunge and survive to tell the story. While the Skeeter pilots crow about their superiority over the larger boats, they frankly admit that the speed record probably will remain in the hands of Class A men. Speed runs are made over a straight measured course, under ideal wind and ice conditions and from a flying start. It is under the varying conditions of ice and wind in competitive racing - where maneuverability is at a premium - that the big boats are left behind. THE END Editor's Note: A future History Blog will discuss the Hell Divers. 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Muffled Drums for Albany-Potomac by Thomas A. Larremore "Washington, May 16 [1949] – (AP) – The Potomac River Line announced today its 69-year-old excursion steamer, The POTOMAC, is headed for the scrap heap. The ship, built in Wilmington, Del., and originally known as the S.S. ALBANY, served until 1933 on the New York-to-Albany Hudson River Day run. The POTOMAC, with a passenger capacity of 2,400, will be scrapped at Baltimore. It will be towed there sometime next week, officials of the line said." Another oldster is gone, suddenly and unexpectedly. This time is it MARY POWELL's side-kicking ex-side-kick of happy years ago on the Hudson River, the ex-Day Liner ALBANY, since 1934 running excursions out of Washington, D.C., for the Potomac River Line, as POTOMAC. Almost 69 years ago, on July 3, 1880 ALBANY made her first regular trip from New York up-stream to her namesake city. Save for a few years "on reserve" for the Day Line, she performed regularly, earning her living quietly, dependably, surely, safely – recalling, in this respect, PRISCILLA, COMMONWEALTH and the rest of the Fall River liners. Only last summer, at 68 plus, the POTOMAC completed another annual tour of duty and was ready to resume this coming season. Just when the decision to end her career was made is unknown. Only as recently as Feb. 3 [1949] Her Captain, SSHSA member Harry E. Slye, told the writer that had been no suggestion that she was about to be replaced by BEAR MOUNTAIN a WILLIAM G. PAYNE b BRIDGEPORT c HIGHLANDER, despite the transfer last fall of the latter to Washington. Fearing something of the sort was in the air the writer devoted several hours of a business trip to the capital to photographing POTOMAC tied up alongside BEAR MOUNTAIN. Now he is happy indeed to have done so, although the need for rewriting this essay, begun in a different vein, makes his present task sorrowful. Perhaps his feelings can best be gauged by the fact that he had been trying to organizing an excursion anniversary trip on POTOMAC this coming July 3, [1949]. Instead she is off to the wreckers, to join METEOR a CHESTER W. CHAPIN (SB 29;18) and to go the way of those other Hudson River titans: NORWICH (87 when taken off her run) and MARY POWELL, who lived to be 63. Note that ALBANY-POTOMAC’s near-69 years rank her ahead of the famous MARY in the longevity tables. Let there be hats off and muffled drums. A great steamer has passed, and the writer feels as if he has lost a close relative, overnight, for reasons that will presently appear. According to A.V.S. Olcott, president of the Old Day Line, ALBANY’s hull was built in 1879-1880 by Harlan and Hollingsworth, Wilmington, Del., and her machinery and joiner work were put into her iron hull (first of its kind for the line) in 1880. At that time her length was over 295’, her beam (moulded) 40’, and depth 11’6”. Launched in Jan. 1880, she was christened buy Mr. Olcott’s uncle, Charles. T. Van Santvoord. Her paddle boxes, then, were ungainly and semi-circular. In 1892-1893 she was rebuilt and lengthened to 325’6”, with the same beam (accounting for her lanky look), and her gross tonnage became 1,415.42, with net of 815.03. Feathering paddle wheels were added at the time, and her paddle boxes assumed the oblong, streamlined shape that set the fashion. In 1916 she had new boilers, replacing the “3 lobster back boilers” of the early days. Her passenger capacity became 2000. Her original cost, according to Book 23 of the Day Line Journals now at the N.Y. Historical Society, was $187,318.58, including fittings, dry dock fees, cost of towing and customs charges. When HENDRICK HUDSON appeared in 1906, ALBANY was transferred to the Poughkeepsie run as a special boat and when WASHINGTON IRVING came out in 1913, ALBANY replaced MARY POWELL on the run to Rondout. ALBANY was laid up at Athens in 1931 and was sold at public auction on March 6, 1934 at the new County Court House, N.Y. City, to B.B. Wills. On April 19 she left West 42nd Street Pier at 2:50 p.m. for Washington, D.C. After taking ALBANY to Washington Mr. Wills changed her name to POTOMAC, registered her there, put a dance floor on main deck from the forward gangway to the lower deck housing, and installed a band stand. Later a second dance floor was added, on the saloon deck, and the band stand was raised to enable the music to suffice for both floors at once. POTOMAC was converted to oil burning and so remained save for one year during World War II when the oil shortage compelled temporary reconversion to coal. Captain Slye said her registry had recently been transferred to Baltimore, as is evidenced by the current leg ending on the stern. So much for the strictly statistical indispensables. Let us turn to more personal traits. In physical appearance ALBANY, the older and rebuilt CHAUNCEY VIBBARD and the later NEW YORK set a contemporary “new look” for Hudson River boats. The most conspicuous features of this were the three tall funnels set transversely; the ungainly, high, top-heavy-looking, semi-circular paddle boxes; and the general color scheme, perhaps borrowed from the famous “White Squadron” of pre-Spanish War days, i.e., overall whiteness, relieved principally by yellow or buff, most notable on the later-period smoke pipes. ALBANY and VIBBARD looked very much alike, with smokestacks abaft both walking beam and paddle boxes, while in NEW YORK these relative positions were reversed. ALBANY, always a quiet, efficient, dependable, unsensational performer, got away to an appropriately inconspicuous start. After a trial trip to Yonkers on July 2, 1880, to test her machinery, she opened her regular career the next day replacing DANIEL DREW and paddled upstream to her namesake city. New York newspapers paid little attention, being preoccupied with five ocean liners starting trans-Atlantic voyages the same day and commenting on the possibility that they might encounter summer icebergs. Some journals didn’t mention the new river steamer, and only one, the New York World, paid reasonable attention. Perhaps the big city had already become sophisticated enough to take such trivia as the inauguration of another Day Liner too completely in stride to bother about. But there well may have been another reason. In June and July 1880, passenger steamers around New York had suddenly become non grata, recalling very pointedly the earlier days around 1825 when frequent boiler explosions had forced definite recourse to trailer passenger barges. An incredible series of mishaps had taken place. On June 11, 1880, NARRAGANSETT, bound east up L.I. Sound, had collided off Cornfield Point with STONINGTON and burned with the loss of 30 lives. On June 17, two girls had drowned when their rowboat was struck by ELIZA HOWARD, and ugly rumors persisted that adequate efforts to rescue them had not been made. On June 19 GRAND REPUBLIC had engaged in a spectacular collision with ADELAIDE, and an acrimonious investigation of the crash was starting. On June 28 had come the most frightful catastrophe of all. SEAWANHAKA, steamboat for Glen Cove’s commuters, had caught fire passing through Hell Gate and, although skillfully beached broadside to, not five minutes later on Sunken Meadows at Randall’s Island, had notched a toll of 44 or 45 fatalities. On June 29 the stage had been set for a ghastly foreshadowing of the holocaust of the GENERAL SLOCUM (1904) when LONG BRANCH with some 700 passengers, mostly Sunday school children on a picnic, had her bows (openly alleged in the newspapers to be quite rotten) crushed by the oil barge HOP - fortunately, however, without the loss of life. On July 2, 1880, the very day ALBANY made her trial run, the New York Daily Tribune, reporting another accident the day before, had struck the current keynote by writing: “The daily steamboat accident shifted its longitude, yesterday. The boiler of a pleasure boat on one of the Minnesota lakes exploded, killing three persons outright, wounding one fatally and several others seriously.” On the same day the New York Herald announced, as the tragicomic climax to all this: “A barrel of beer exploded on the steamboat STONINGTON, fracturing the leg, arm and collar bone of a sailor named John McCarthy.” Perhaps because of such episodes the Day Line owners preferred to soft-pedal advance publicity about their new boat until they could see how she behaved on the job. At any rate, off she steamed out on the mild blue yonder, as planned, July 3, and that afternoon made a happy landing at Albany, sans fire, sans collision, sans explosion, without even a beer barrel bursting in the air. The New York World gave her this passing mention, July 4. “The new steamer ALBANY, of the Albany day line, made her first regular trip up the Hudson yesterday. She took about one thousand five hundred passengers….She was due at Albany at 6:10 p.m. and was received with fifty guns and a display of bunting. There was a crowd at the wharf to greet her…” Apparently they ordered such things better upstate, for, according to John H. Flandreau, Assistant Archivist, New York State, a clipping from an unidentified newspaper in the Hallenbeck material at Albany reads in part as follows: "On Saturday the ALBANY left her landing in New York nine minutes late, with over 2,000 passengers aboard and against a strong head wind and ebb tide, made West Point and Newburgh on time. Ny the time the boat reached Rhinebeck (then the port of call of Rondout, reached by ferry, and the Southern Catskills), she was about an half hour late, caused by some slight difficulty with her new machinery. By this time the crowd of people had swelled to immense proportions and at this landing fully 500 disembarked, and when Catskill was reached. Fully as many more got off there. From Catskill to this city tows and other hindrances caused the vessel to lose time, and she did not reach here until half-past seven o’clock. All along the river, residents had their houses decorated, and with cannon and other explosives welcomed the advent of the ALBANY. “At Hudson, the dock and hills were crowded with people despite the fact that quite a rain prevailed at the time. When she hove in sight of the city, the greatest excitement prevailed, and, amid the booming of cannon, the screeching of steamboat whistles, the ringing of bells, the playing of Austin’s band, and the shouts of a thousand people assembled on the docks and piers, the ALBANY steamed into port and touched her dock. AuthorThis article was written by Thomas A. Larremore and originally published in "Steamboat Bill of Facts" Journal of the Steamship Historical Society of America issue of June 1949.. The language, spelling, grammar and references in the article reflects the time period when it was written. Thank you to HRMM volunteer Adam Kaplan for transcribing the article. If you enjoyed this post and would like to support more history blog content, please make a donation to the Hudson River Maritime Museum or become a member today!
Editor’s Note: The following text is a verbatim transcription of an article featuring stories by Captain William O. Benson (1911-1986). Beginning in 1971, Benson, a retired tugboat captain, reminisced about his 40 years on the Hudson River in a regular column for the Kingston (NY) Freeman’s Sunday Tempo magazine. Captain Benson's articles were compiled and transcribed by HRMM volunteer Carl Mayer. See more of Captain Benson’s articles here. This article was originally published November 28, 1976. One night back in the late 1930’s, I was pilot on the tugboat “Cornell No. 41” of the Cornell Steamboat Company. We were the helper tug on a tow in charge of the tug “Lion” headed for Albany. As was the custom in those days, the helper tug would take off and add barges for local delivery as the tow slowly moved up or down the river. When we were off Athens about 2 a.m., we went along the tow to take off two cement lighters to land them at Hudson. The cement lighters were alongside a big coastwise barge in the tow destined for Albany. My deckhand, the late William “Darby” Corbett of Port Ewen, had to climb up on the coastwise barge to cast off the lines of the cement lighters. As “Darby” was about to let the lines go, I saw this big dog come sneaking up the deck in the shadow of one of her hatches. He looked as if he was about to pounce, I yelled over, “Watch out ‘Darb’, here comes a dog after you!” With that, “Darby” turned quickly, caught the dog with his foot and raised him over the barge’s low rail almost quicker than the eye could see. Overboard the dog went, between the barges, without a sound. I thought sure the dog was a goner. We saw nothing of him as we pulled away from the tow with the cement lighters. The next morning as we lay on the other side of the tow, the captain of the coastwise barge came over and asked if we had seen anything of his dog. We didn’t have the heart to tell him what happened. Later that morning, when we were up off New Baltimore, there, to my incredible surprise, was the dog running along the shore, following the tow. When we landed the coastwise barge in the old D&H slip just below Albany, he was waiting for us. He sure was a tuckered out dog. Fortunately, we were bucking an ebb tide during the last part of the tow, which slowed our rate of progress overground. The dog must have swum to shore at Athens and followed the lights of the tow until daylight. How he ever lived after going down between the barges, no one but the dog ever knew. AuthorCaptain William Odell Benson was a life-long resident of Sleightsburgh, N.Y., where he was born on March 17, 1911, the son of the late Albert and Ida Olson Benson. He served as captain of Callanan Company tugs including Peter Callanan, and Callanan No. 1 and was an early member of the Hudson River Maritime Museum. He retained, and shared, lifelong memories of incidents and anecdotes along the Hudson River. If you enjoyed this post and would like to support more history blog content, please make a donation to the Hudson River Maritime Museum or become a member today!
Welcome to Sail Freighter Fridays! This article is part of a series linked to our new exhibit: "A New Age Of Sail: The History And Future Of Sail Freight In The Hudson Valley," and tells the stories of sailing cargo ships both modern and historical, on the Hudson River and around the world. Anyone interested in how to support Sail Freight should also check out the Conference in November, and the International Windship Association's Decade of Wind Propulsion. The rotor ship Buckau was originally built as an auxiliary sailing schooner in 1920, she was converted in 1925 as the first rotor ship using Flettner Rotors. These modern sails are now being used as wind assist systems on dozens of ships, and are projected in some cases as the principal propulsion of a number of vessels currently in the design stage. Flettner Rotors work on the principle of the Magnus Effect, which is what causes baseballs to curve when thrown. Flettner Rotors also provide much more thrust from the same surface area when compared to traditional sails. The tests with Buckau were successful, and the idea caught on to a degree. While Backau was only 600 tons, thus a small ship, others were later launched after her tests, including the 3,000 ton Barbara. Anton Flettner wrote a book about his inventions which is now available on Google Books, and in it details that he had taken a sailing excursion as a young man to Australia, which inspired his maritime endeavors. There were a number of smaller experiments with Flettner Rotors in the early 20th century, but the collapse of shipping rates in the 1920s did not provide an incentive for building more ships. It wasn't until the Oil Crisis of the 1970s that more research was poured into the idea, and until the early 21st century not many Flettner Rotors were installed or used. However, they are now considered one of the best options for wind-assist retrofits on all kinds of modern vessels. Buckau proved that rotors are a viable form of propulsion nearly a century ago, and now they are being put to regular use in the pursuit of decarbonizing shipping. These types of pioneering efforts are not frequent, but they are capable of changing what the future of sail will, quite literally, look like. AuthorSteven Woods is a Contributing Scholar at HRMM. He earned his Master's degree in Resilient and Sustainable Communities at Prescott College, and wrote his thesis on the revival of Sail Freight for supplying the New York Metro Area's food needs. Steven has worked in Museums for over 20 years. If you enjoyed this post and would like to support more history blog content, please make a donation to the Hudson River Maritime Museum or become a member today!
Welcome to Sail Freighter Fridays! This article is part of a series linked to our new exhibit: "A New Age Of Sail: The History And Future Of Sail Freight In The Hudson Valley," and tells the stories of sailing cargo ships both modern and historical, on the Hudson River and around the world. Anyone interested in how to support Sail Freight should also check out the Conference in November, and the International Windship Association's Decade of Wind Propulsion. The Schooner Wyoming was built at the Percy and Small Shipyard in Bath, Maine, in 1909, becoming the largest wooden ship ever built. An engineless 6-masted schooner, she carried almost 40,000 square feet of sail, with a crew of only 16 to move up to 6,000 tons of coal at a time. Wyoming was launched at the tail end of the Windjammer era, and was adapted for moving fossil fuels in the form of Coal. These types of bulk cargoes, for fueling cities, railroads, and steamships were the last cargo carried in large volumes by the Windjammers, and generally proved economically viable into the 1920s. However, the only way to maintain that economic competition was to get ever larger and use fewer and fewer crew to get the job done. To bring crew numbers down to the remarkably low number of 16, the Wyoming had mechanical winches for the running rigging such as sheets and halyards, run by a steam powered Donkey Engine, which also powered the pumps and anchor windlass. Although originally intended for coastal trade as a Collier, Wyoming also crossed the Atlantic during the First World War, surviving the U-Boat menace which devastated the Atlantic Windjammer fleet at the time. She returned to US coastal trade after the war, and was in service moving coal until she foundered in a Nor'easter off the Massachusetts coast in 1924. Wyoming is important because of her late date of construction and the innovations built in for conserving crew. She is a good example of the type of ship which was able to compete not on speed, but cost in an era of increasingly inexpensive steam propulsion: Fore-And-Aft rigged, partly automated, and designed for a low crew requirement, she was also built for bulk cargo which did not rely on speed for its value. Such ships would be built into the 1920s, before the economic situation for shipping started to decline and hundreds of vessels were laid up and out of use due to a reduction in international shipping, and the expansion of railroads took over from the coastal shipping trade. For more information on the Wyoming and the other Schooners launched by Percy and Small, you can visit the Maine Maritime Museum in Bath, Maine, or pick up a copy of "A Shipyard In Maine" by Ralph Linwood Snow and Douglas K Lee. AuthorSteven Woods is the Solaris and Education coordinator at HRMM. He earned his Master's degree in Resilient and Sustainable Communities at Prescott College, and wrote his thesis on the revival of Sail Freight for supplying the New York Metro Area's food needs. Steven has worked in Museums for over 20 years. If you enjoyed this post and would like to support more history blog content, please make a donation to the Hudson River Maritime Museum or become a member today!
Welcome to Sail Freighter Fridays! This article is part of a series linked to our new exhibit: "A New Age Of Sail: The History And Future Of Sail Freight In The Hudson Valley," and tells the stories of sailing cargo ships both modern and historical, on the Hudson River and around the world. Anyone interested in how to support Sail Freight should also check out the Conference in November, and the International Windship Association's Decade of Wind Propulsion. The Thomas W Lawson was the largest schooner ever built, at some 475 feet long and 5200 Gross Register Tons. She was made of steel, sported no engines, and had seven masts, one of the very few seven-masted schooners ever built. Launched in 1902, she started her career as a Collier, but was converted to an oil tanker in 1906, serving mostly on the US East Coast. After her retrofit to a tanker, she was one of the few sailing tankers ever in service. Like the slightly smaller Wyoming, the Lawson had modern winches, a donkey engine, and a small crew of only 18. With seven masts and only so much sail possible at a time, the Lawson was very much at the point of being too large to sail with the technology of the time: In GRT and displacement terms she was bigger than the Preussen, but carried only about two thirds the sail area. This made her ungainly to maneuver, and she was too deep of draft to enter many east coast ports. The Lawson did not have a long career. After launching in 1902, she served as a collier, though not at maximum profitability due to the small number of ports she could access. On a trip to London in 1907 she was wrecked in a gale off the Scilly Islands near the coast of Cornwall. This wreck caused the first large marine oil spill, and killed 16 out of the 18 crew. While the Lawson's story is mostly one of costly mistakes, it shows one of the same problems as the Preussen: You can only make a sailing vessel so large before it becomes hazardous to operate. While modern technology may increase the size of possible sailing vessels, these warnings from the past should be kept in mind for future windjammer developments. AuthorSteven Woods is the Solaris and Education coordinator at HRMM. He earned his Master's degree in Resilient and Sustainable Communities at Prescott College, and wrote his thesis on the revival of Sail Freight for supplying the New York Metro Area's food needs. Steven has worked in Museums for over 20 years. If you enjoyed this post and would like to support more history blog content, please make a donation to the Hudson River Maritime Museum or become a member today!
Welcome to Sail Freighter Fridays! This article is part of a series linked to our new exhibit: "A New Age Of Sail: The History And Future Of Sail Freight In The Hudson Valley," and tells the stories of sailing cargo ships both modern and historical, on the Hudson River and around the world. Anyone interested in how to support Sail Freight should also check out the Conference in November, and the International Windship Association's Decade of Wind Propulsion. The West Country Ketch Hobah was an English vessel built in 1879, and is typical of her class: Ketch rigged, relatively small at around 80 feet and 60 Net Register Tons, and built with a wide flat bottom, she was designed for use in the South of England. She served as late as 1945, moving coal, general cargo, manure, and stone. The ketch's wide, flat bottom allowed for loading and unloading from beaches where no developed port was available, a common practice with small vessels. The photo above shows this process in action, with the Ketch tied up to the stake on the left, the tide was allowed to recede, while the ship settles into the sand and stays stable while discharging cargo. When high tide returns, the lines can be cast and the ship sails away unharmed. While very typical of her class, the Hobah's career is especially long, spanning 66 years. She was engaged on trade routes which were fully developed by the 17th century, and active through the early 20th. Those routes have been mapped by Oliver Dunn and a team of historians, and span the entirety of the British coast. Like many other late sail freighters, she carried mostly bulk cargos around areas with underdeveloped land transportation networks before the introduction of fossil-fueled trucks, and was quite successful. AuthorSteven Woods is the Solaris and Education coordinator at HRMM. He earned his Master's degree in Resilient and Sustainable Communities at Prescott College, and wrote his thesis on the revival of Sail Freight for supplying the New York Metro Area's food needs. Steven has worked in Museums for over 20 years. If you enjoyed this post and would like to support more history blog content, please make a donation to the Hudson River Maritime Museum or become a member today!
Welcome to Sail Freighter Fridays! This article is part of a series linked to our new exhibit: "A New Age Of Sail: The History And Future Of Sail Freight In The Hudson Valley," and tells the stories of sailing cargo ships both modern and historical, on the Hudson River and around the world. Anyone interested in how to support Sail Freight should also check out the Conference in November, and the International Windship Association's Decade of Wind Propulsion. Today's Windjammer is the Preussen, the only five-masted full rigged cargo ship ever built, and the largest of the early 20th century windjammers. 482 feet long and carrying up to 8,000 tons of Nitrates from Chile to Germany per voyage, she was designed to round Cape Horn and return at great speed, making up to 20.5 knots under up to 73,000 square feet of sails. She was the pinnacle of the sailing vessel, and was in service for 8 years carrying nitrates and general cargo. As part of the very large era of sail freighters, where crew were expensive, the Preussen had no engines for propulsion, but two "Donkey Engines" which powered winches, pumps, and ship's gear, meaning she needed a crew of only 45. Steel had been used throughout her construction, making her a strong and steady ship, able to take the stresses involved in running at high speeds in heavy weather. She circumnavigated the globe, and went around the Horn at least a dozen times. Preussen served until November of 1910, when she was rammed by a Steamer in the English channel. The collision caused significant damage, nearly tearing the bowsprit off the ship and flooding the forward compartments. Luckily, the ship had been constructed with watertight bulkheads, otherwise she may well have sunk. Three tugs attempted to tow her into Dover, but a storm drove her on the rocks and she ran hard aground, flooding with up to 16 feet of water in the holds. She was deemed unsalvageable, cargo was pulled off onto barges, and the Preussen's career ended far earlier than anyone anticipated. An account of the collision from the Preussen's Helmsman is available here. It includes a detailed description of the ship's equipment and accommodations, as well as the account of the collision and grounding. AuthorSteven Woods is the Solaris and Education coordinator at HRMM. He earned his Master's degree in Resilient and Sustainable Communities at Prescott College, and wrote his thesis on the revival of Sail Freight for supplying the New York Metro Area's food needs. Steven has worked in Museums for over 20 years. If you enjoyed this post and would like to support more history blog content, please make a donation to the Hudson River Maritime Museum or become a member today!
Welcome to Sail Freighter Fridays! This article is part of a series linked to our new exhibit: "A New Age Of Sail: The History And Future Of Sail Freight In The Hudson Valley," and tells the stories of sailing cargo ships both modern and historical, on the Hudson River and around the world. Anyone interested in how to support Sail Freight should also check out the Conference in November, and the International Windship Association's Decade of Wind Propulsion. If you've been following Sail Freighter Friday, you'll have noticed last week was about a Fiji Government Vessel by the name of Na Mata-I-Sau. If you haven't read that article yet, you might want to catch up before you read this one. She was retrofitted with sails in 1984, but sank in January of 1985. Her rig was inherited by today's featured Sail Freighter, the Cagidonu. While the Cagidonu was larger than the Na Mata-I-Sau, the rig still proved useful, and the experiment in sail assisted propulsion continued. The Cagidonu was a similar ship to her predecessor, in that she displaced 338 tons (64 more than the Na Mata-I-Sau), and was on a similar route. However, the Cagidonu was originally designed as an auxiliary sail vessel. Due to lack of crew training and an overly heavy set of original rigging which destabilized the ship, her rig had been cut off soon after her launch in 1978. In 1985, she was equipped with a new, better designed rig and the crew training issue was also addressed. Logs from Na Mata-I-Sau were transferred to the new ship, and the experiment started earlier was continued with good results. Cagidonu used the modified rig for several years, saving around 21-36% on fuel, depending on her route and sail deployment. Since her engine-use strategy was to reduce port times, she rarely if ever sailed under wind power alone, so she wasn't a real Sail Freighter if we go by strict definitions. Despite pushing for the maximum speed instead of maximum fuel savings, she still performed well and encouraged research and expanded use of sail until the collapse of oil prices in 1986. However, she played a similar role to her predecessor, and proved that wind assist as a retrofit is effective in both cost and economic benefits on small vessels. This research and development can be critical to rapidly adopting sail freight in the present day, because many of the Pacific Island States are currently suffering from extremely similar forces to the Oil Crisis Era of 50 years ago: High oil prices, and an especially vulnerable exposure to the effects of climate change and sea level rise. The use of maritime transport in a nation defined by its dispersed island nature is non-negotiable and unavoidable, meaning the use of sail will be especially important to the survival of these regions for economic and ecological reasons in the coming years and decades. AuthorSteven Woods is the Solaris and Education coordinator at HRMM. He earned his Master's degree in Resilient and Sustainable Communities at Prescott College, and wrote his thesis on the revival of Sail Freight for supplying the New York Metro Area's food needs. Steven has worked in Museums for over 20 years. If you enjoyed this post and would like to support more history blog content, please make a donation to the Hudson River Maritime Museum or become a member today!
Welcome to Sail Freighter Fridays! This article is part of a series linked to our new exhibit: "A New Age Of Sail: The History And Future Of Sail Freight In The Hudson Valley," and tells the stories of sailing cargo ships both modern and historical, on the Hudson River and around the world. Anyone interested in how to support Sail Freight should also check out the Conference in November, and the International Windship Association's Decade of Wind Propulsion. The Na Mata-I-Sau isn't strictly speaking a sail freighter, but she is important to the story of sail freight's revival in the Pacific during the 1970s Oil Crisis, as well as to some modern efforts such as the SV Kwai, so we're giving her the time she deserves in this blog. She was originally a motor vessel belonging to the Government of Fiji, but six years after her launch she was selected for an experiment in sail assist propulsion due to the extraordinary rise in oil prices which had crushed the economy of many Small Island States in the Pacific. As a result, she was equipped with a Fore-&-Aft sailing rig to reduce the amount of fuel she burned on a government-subsidized packet route to many remote islands. Displacing only 274 tons and carrying as many as 60 passengers, she was involved in a mixed trade involving mostly undeveloped ports, and had a large crew of about 18, to assist with loading and unloading cargo using ship's gear. She saved on average about 30% on fuel when using the rig as intended for assistance to the engine, and she saved up to 60% of fuel when she sailed by wind power alone even just 10% of the time. She became popular with passengers because the sails reduced rolling and other movement when underway. She was very popular, except for one bad review from a passenger on a voyage back to Fiji from Rotunga, which had a cargo of vegetables, fruit, copra (coconut husks), and one pig: As one of the best short academic footnotes ever written states, "The pig was very seasick." Na Mata-I-Sau served for about a year until she foundered in the height of Tropical Cyclone Eric. This resulted in the loss of two crew members. Remarkably, her engine had failed on the way to her destination in the face of the storm with the Prime Minister of Fiji, a full complement of nearly 60 passengers, and her full crew on board. She sailed under wind power alone to the island of Moala, which was a significant distance to windward. The crew was able to bring all passengers and the majority of the crew to shore before the storm struck, saving the lives of all the passengers involved. Without the sail power which had been only recently added, it is likely all hands would have been lost at sea. After the wreck, the rig was salvaged and placed on the Cagidonu for further experimentation, but that is a story for another blog post. The rig and the adaptation of a motor vessel to sail with dramatic gains in efficiency not only saved a number of lives, but provided the evidence and model for other ships such as the SV Kwai which is still operating today in the Marshall Islands. AuthorSteven Woods is the Solaris and Education coordinator at HRMM. He earned his Master's degree in Resilient and Sustainable Communities at Prescott College, and wrote his thesis on the revival of Sail Freight for supplying the New York Metro Area's food needs. Steven has worked in Museums for over 20 years. If you enjoyed this post and would like to support more history blog content, please make a donation to the Hudson River Maritime Museum or become a member today!
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