When Panic Rears It's Ugly Head

 Cartoon by Gary Larson 

The way the mind will lean under stress is strongly influenced by training.
From Frank Herbert's Dune

Don't Panic. 

Printed in large, friendly letters on the cover of The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy by Douglas Adams

When Panic Rears It's Ugly Head

Panic is one of the very worst dangers sailors face.

Panic may paralyze us. It may send us into a frenzy of useless or even detrimental action. It may benumb the mind or send it reeling.

Panic, more often than not, is a far greater danger than the conditions which invoke it. Indeed, it can strike in a total absence of danger if the situation is misread.

Panic is one of those reactions that might work sometimes toward survival for prey animals, and it may be that we humans spent a good chunk of our evolutionary childhood in panic-augmented flight.

But panic on board – whether of captain or crew – is not our friend. It can overwhelm anyone, but favors the unprepared. It's contagious and can debilitate an entire crew. At worst, those caught in its grip are a danger to themselves, the crew and the vessel.

Fortunately, we can reduce its onset with training, and break its grip with breathing and focus.We are none of us immune to panic, but neither are we its helpless victims.

Panic - and climbing out of it - is serious business, for which it is well to be prepared.


It was a dark and stormy night.

Well, not stormy, yet, but one was bearing down on us. And it was dark... that nebulous kind of dark where even silhouettes are blurred and indistinct.

We had fetched the reefbound entrance to a fjiord. Just the sort of place that wind, when it hits, funnels together and venturies itself into a rage (vent = wind + furies?). But we were ahead of it and dropped anchor close in the lee of a sheltering island.

Before we could set the anchor, however, the first lick of squall pounced on us and stripped it, blowing us back into exposed water, embayed by rock and reef, lost in blinding rain and intensified dark.

This is not as dangerous as it sounds, but calls for close sailing in tight quarters, with strong, confused winds. It was just a matter of navigating between the lighter water smudges bracketing the island, visible at either end of our tacks. Round up and stall in the blackouts. Work our way into the inky lull between them and anchor on soundings. Not an everyday occurrence, but we've practice aplenty.

Anke went forward to haul the anchor, while I raised sail, an operation that briefly fouls the deck with loops of halyard. Normally this is cleared at leisure as each sail is raised. But, with trouble close to leeward, there was no time for niceties. Sails and anchor up, we set course close-hauled, intending to tack back into our island's lee.

Anke returned to the cockpit and took the helm while I set about clearing the decks by feel. Despite the fact that I couldn't see any of the lines, by habit, I put my head down for a moment. A side gust hit, and we heeled hard and SLACKTIDE rounded toward it in a swoop, dumping power and regaining her feet.

As my head came up, I found that I'd lost my bearings. Neither wind nor the sketchy blots of black fell into a pattern I could recognize. Which way to turn and how long before burning up scant searoom? Panic clamped down hard. Heart pounding, mouth gone dry, knees weak and knocking, mind clutching wildly at any purchase within that churning darkness.

Breathe x four, and my mind began to work again. Still disoriented, but ready to do the sensible thing... ask Anke what's where.

And she soon set me straight.

Note: If we'd both been lost, an unpanicked assessment would quickly reveal standard options; heaving to or dropping anchor till bearings were regained. If we drag, we can row out another, or dredge downwind (dragging anchor acting as a drogue to keep head up; back sails to skin through breaks in the reef (clearly visible for ultra-shoal draft as patches of smoother water between breaking water). If a lee shore (no breaks), ground out and step ashore if and when we must. The first happens now and then, the latter two once or twice.

*****

Panic took me in its vice that night. It happens. And if we don't get a handle on it, it'll run us under.

So here are some tools we've found useful. While they don't all address panic itself, together they lower the odds that panic will take over. And once your mind is your own again, you're ready to take on trouble.

*****

Preparation

Take care of yourself – Dress appropriately for conditions. Get adequate rest. Eat and drink well (never alcohol, however, while at risk).

Outfit yourself – Reliable gear that works well together across real and anticipated scenarios gives you the physical basis to deal with emergencies.

Train yourself – Develop skills before you need them, and practice them in increasing conditions. If nothing else, imagine scenarios and response in detail.

Drills help immensely. But a word of caution... skills are most powerful when seen as modular – useful separately or in combination with others. Seen thus, they empower improvisation. Overfocusing on set drills can leave us unprepared when the real world deviates from the 'script'. I seen it happen!

Orient yourself – At all possible moments, know where you are. Where are your fall-backs? What is your fail-safe strategy? What is the path of least resistance?


In the Moment

Breathe! -- First thing you'll need is oxygen. Adrenalin kicks us into high gear and we start burning through O2 reserves like wildfire, and we need to up our intake.  

I like the 'fourfold breath'... enough air to supply the brain, and counting helps focus and bring me back. Consciously use feature to ease yourself down. Four quick breaths are not enough to hyperventilate or delay your recovery. But do take more if you need to. 

NOTE: I've since read of a technique use by US Navy Seals called square breathing. In 4 seconds, hold 4 seconds, out 4 seconds, hold 4 seconds. Repeat. Long story, but this helps bring O2 and CO2 into balance.

DO NOT PROCEED until panic ebbs... until you do, your actions are unlikely to be helpful and may cause harm! Our best shot is to keep with it until you have yourself in hand. Note the distinction between panic and merely being afraid. You can function with the latter.

To captains: If you allow your personal panic to persist, both ship and crew are as though rudderless. Your calm and confidence aid the crew to deal with their panic. You may have to relieve crew who cannot control their panic before it spreads lest they endanger the ship or themselves with panicked mis-actions.

TIP: If you are in the grip of panic, it may help to close your eyes for this step... this shuts out alarming visuals which, at this point, you are in no shape to process. Benefit varies from one individual to the next, however.

Assess, Address, Appraise – What are the dangers and/or damages? Options? Resources? Priorities?  What is your plan? Are your actions producing their intended effect? What must be done to remedy, if not? Don't hesitate to trade up one plan for a better one, where possible. We need to home in on effective address, pronto.

To captains: This is your responsibility. If time allows, consider consulting with knowledgeable crew. Consider staying in the moment... what came before or comes after is likely irrelevant in the crisis.

Communicate – Make sure everyone involved knows their job. If time permits, fill them in on the situation and the why of what they're told to do. This helps them deal with their panic. Help them with that process where time allows.

To crewmembers: Consider that the skipper may not have time to fully brief you. This is the time to 'put your head down' and perform each assigned task to the best of your ability. If you observe something urgent, report it, but consider that the skipper must rank that information into priorities to which you may not be privy. S/he may have you abandon your assigned task in favor of another as plans change rapidly. Resist the urge to act without instruction (at least such actions as dropping or raising sail).

Buy time – Actions which buy you time – to think, orient, improvise, etc. - can be invaluable, even when they don't directly improve your situation. Make the most of the time you've bought!


Afterwards:

Attend to the ship –  Damage assessment and control that hasn't been addressed during the emergency. Make all gear ready to run. Get to shelter, if necessary. Initiate repairs, if necessary.

Attend to the crew -- All present and accounted for? Any trauma or medical issues? Apply first aid, if necessary. Get help, if necessary.

ReAssess – What went well? Not so well? What could be improved? Has training adequately prepared each for their role? Was the ship's outfit up to snuff?

NOTE: As with any debriefing session, this is not a blame game. That someone panicked and/or was unable to to climb out from under it is not  reprehensible, but rather grounds for further training. This includes everyday and emergency seamanship AND in techniques for ending panic.

*****



Bonus Feature

In the following scene, from the movie Flight, involves a flight crew's response to mechanical failure.

I admire both the captain's expertise, and handling of the situation and crew. He is decisive and proactive in both respects. He plays a large role in keeping his crew from panic and moving toward a solution.

NOTE: This scene focuses on what happens in the cockpit but includes asides depicting physical trauma to crew in the cabin. It was 'loosely' inspired by a real life incident (Alaska Airlines flight 261) in which all passengers and crew perished).

Though ultimately unsuccessful, by not panicking, the real-life crew gave themselves and their passengers the best chance of survival. They were posthumously awarded the Airline Pilots Association Gold Medal for Heroism.

Please view with discretion.

Shadow Dollars: Assets vs Liabilities

From Albert Opoku's Life Lesson 50

Asset:      A possession which makes you money.

Liability:  A possession which loses you money.

-- Paraphrased from Rich Dad, Poor Dad by Robert Kiyosaki

Shadow Dollars: Assets vs Liabilities

Is our boat an asset or a liability? Simple question; not so simple answer.

The standard definition of a (hard) asset is any (physical) possession that stores value. We have equity in it (some portion we own). It can be liquefied, presumably by selling it at what price the market will bear, though that's a trickier aside.

Well, lessee.

We live aboard home-built, plywood boats that're kinda funny looking, have no engine, little standing headroom, little to no plumbing, low electrical production and tend to get banged up.

We don't 'work' the vessel in a commercial venture. We don't live near the kind of water-hippy communities that might barter for her. It's a buyer's market. No one will insure us, much less accept the boat as collateral for a loan (should we or a prospective buyer get crazy).

So we consider the recovery of intrinsic value (the value of its gear + scrap value of copper) to be a decent return. In other words...

Standard Asset Value of Our Vessels = Surely You're Joking!

 Even so, yes; in the standard sense our boat is likely to be an asset; just not much of one.

Yet, in terms of the more dynamic definition quoted above, value is not static but seen as flow. We should be asking, “Is our boat making or losing us money?” The thought plickens!

We maintain that our humble vessel is a money making MACHINE! It makes money for us hand-over-fist. Not in cold, hard cash, but in Shadow Dollars that exist 'off the books'.

Let's break it down by fiscal year... conservative estimates throughout (conservative, indeed, for urban Alaska):

Rent saved at $1K/mo                                                         $12,000

Utilities saved at $150/mo                                                 $   1,800

Groceries saved (forage) at 75% of $200/mo               $   1,800

Transportation at $1000/yr (2 RTs out-of-town)       $   1,000

Deck Sheathing: Alternatives to Fiberglass Fabric and Plastic Resins

What next?

Rain on the flowers,

Rain on the trees,

Rain on the rooftops,

But not on me!

 -- Mother Goose

Deck Sheathing: Alternatives to Fiberglass Fabric and Plastic Resins

Plywood decks are strong and easy to build, but not naturally waterproof. Sealers, paint and/or saturating resins help, but are relatively fragile... wear and tear from traffic soon allows water to penetrate. Sheathing is an attractive option.

Sheathing is a layer of fabric which is saturated by - and provides a matrix for - a waterproof substance which, once cured, bonds this layer to plywood, forming a composite structure.

Nowadays, a matrix of fiberglass cloth set in epoxy or polyester resin is nearly universal. For many reasons, Anke and I prefer an alternative suite of materials and techniques, which we learned about back in the day. To my mind, they are much more amenable to amateur construction, and worth considering in many applications around a home-built or modified vessel.

Current Practice

GRP (Glass Reenforced Plastic aka fiberglass) is undeniably wonderful stuff. It can take on most any shape, and be layered up into a skin which is itself structurally adequate for hull construction. But for sheathing its strength is wasted.

Pros are that the matrix is reliably waterproof and generally long-lived. There is abundant information available for its application. These resins are very versatile, and may already be in service for other tasks around the boat, spreading the costs of special tools and accessories.

Cons...

Fiberglass isn't particularly nice to work with. It tends to fray messily, and when trimmed, it often produces needley, itchy li'l hairs. Both are made worse when smeared with uncured resin. No fabric likes to make a sharp turn, but glass fabric is particularly fussy. Grinding to smooth is toxic and itchy.

The relatively hard matrix can craze or shatter under impacts, leading to delamination and requiring a wider area repair. This is of particular concern for bottom sheathing where grounding the boat is desired. Even small rocks can compromise GRP sheathing, so substantial repairs can be a seasonal chore.

Worst, glass is inelastic and plastic resins little more so... plywood expands and contracts a bit with humidity and temperature, and glass doesn't like to move with it. The result is shear forces between wood and sheathing, increasing chances of delamination. White finishes help considerably to reduce thermal movement.

Note: In this regard epoxy, which has smaller molecules, is preferable to long-chain polyester resin, and its performance is generally considered to be acceptable. Good results have also been obtained with polyester resin with good attention to surface preparation, catalyst proportions and thermal sequence). In other words, the problem aren't insurmountable in either case.

Plastic resins are toxic, exothermic chemical admixtures (can spontaneously burst into flame) involving solvents; they do best in fairly well controlled building environments and impose strict working times; they're expensive and require special tools and heaps of disposable accessories.

Acrylic Fabric, an Alternative to Glass

Acrylic fabric – often referred to as DYNEL after a former, proprietary product of Dow Corporation – is an inexpensive, soft yarn synthetic (rot proof) which wets out well, conforms well, frays only moderately, and is both elastic and highly abrasion resistant. It is often used for drag strips to protect the keels of GRP kayaks from chafe.

Acrylic has been extensively used with epoxy resin to sheath high-end plywood hulls by Reuel Parker and others. It does not contribute significantly to total strength, but that is supplied by the wood it protects (note that dry wood is much stronger than wet).

Being elastic, it moves with plywood. Crazing or shattering, when it happens at all, is limited to a local area. Shear stresses are low, so local damage is much less likely to spread, making repairs a much smaller task.

Grinding acrylic doesn't throw a cloud of glass shards, but does tend to fuzz and pill. This can be shaved, however, and if necessary, a final topcoat of pucky may be applied after grinding.

One caveat... I've read that acrylic should not be used with polyester resin. Dunno why. Our samples showed no short term problems with polyester resin, catalysts or cured resin (that is, nothing melted). In the longer term, we used acrylic/polyester for our dory chine chafe strips... they held up as well as their glass epoxy predecessors despite much poorer application conditions.

Non-PlasticResin Pucky

For many years, DIY boat builders decked with various fabrics (even burlap!) set in asphalt tar, paint and (of particular interest) lagging compounds – various latex puckies used to saturate cloth wrapping for hot water pipes. The huge advantages are economy, ease of application and water clean-up. It is also very easy to repair.

One favored product was ARABOL (now unavailable), which was essentially waterproof Elmer's Glue (both made by Borden Corporation as lagging compound). We used this with glass fabric to sheath LUNA's decks, which were still looking good at the 18 year mark. We know of one lapstrake(!) hull which was fully(!!) albeit sloppily sheathed in ARABOL/burlap to give it an extra decade of live-aboard life.

Lagging compounds tend to finish rather soft... a thumbnail can leave a dent, and a floppy block can wear a hole. Chafe protection in choice spots and prompt repairs easily keep up. 

Overall adhesion, while sufficient, is rather low. This can be an advantage when replacing as the entire matrix, once started, can be peeled away with relative ease. This makes it a good underlayer for asphalt products without commiting the underlying wood.

In WAYWARD, Anke and I are experimentally decking with acrylic plus TiteBond III. It cures to a plastic, slightly elastic sheet which is harder than lagging compound and fairly similar to epoxy/polyester. It is cheap (in bulk), very low toxicity, needn't be mixed and wears a lot of hats.

This method passed our 7 month immersion tests in salt water. It adheres to our wood (radiata pine)'s full fiber strength, so is very strongly bonded.

At present, WAYWARD's sheathed and topcoated deck has been sitting out in winter rain/freeze/thaw cycles for four months, and reports are that it's "looking good".

In a sense, we were fixing what weren't broke; we were perfectly happy with the soft deck. But TBIII certainly wears more hats than lagging compound, so we decided to take the risk for science.

You're welcome!  8)

Application of Fabric plus Water-Based Pucky

Application consists of the following steps:

1. Sweep and wet-tack for a dust-free deck
2. Lay out fabric (may be overlapped, but abutting is sufficient and smoother)
3. Wet out fabric (Yep. Water... drippy wet)
4. Paint on pucky (may thin somewhat with water, if necessary for low-drag)
5. Dry
6. If not satisfied, repeat from 3 (a bit of weave left provides texture)
7. Prime and top-coat

The first round of 1-4 is the primary adhesion step. As the water dries out of the weave, waterbourne pucky wicks (is drawn by capillary action) down into pores of the plywood substrate, creating a permeating bond interface. Subsequent layers build to coat and fill the weave.

On a warm, dry day, water evaporates quickly. If the fabric is drying ahead of you, consider keeping a water-brush on hand to refresh the wet. Without that water, wicking is reduced, and glue may not dilute and penetrate the fabric or wood surfaces for full adhesion.

At the end of the first pass, the fabric is only lightly bonded, however, and can be fairly easily torn away. It is reenforced by subsequent passes, however, and the result is firmly attached.

Consider whether to leave some weave for texture (thin matrix), or fill past the top of the weave for longevity (thick matrix). In the latter case, you might consider added texture in the topcoat.

My only semi-eddicated opinion is that green (not completely cured) layers bond better. Thus many layers can be applied in a single day. I especially like to prime over a green layer, in effect gluing the primer to the matrix. The whole seems to cure well over ensuing days (possibly even faster than the generally indicated 24 to 48 hours).

Topcoats

Most standard topcoats can be used, keeping in mind that the more elastic the matrix pucky used, the more elastic should be the topcoat.

Our preference is for flat latex housepaints (trim or porch enamels are most durable). If we leave the weave unfilled, this provides sufficient texture for good footing. If desired, SKID-NO-MORE adds ground rubber to a latex base.

Aluminumized trailer paint (ATCO SILVER SEAL is the best we've tried), applied with a short nap roller, provides great footing, and can be built up to an independently waterproof layer, especially along interior corners. It's messy, however, with lots of solvent... we've abandoned it for the most part.

Repairs

Puncture – Repair any wood damage. Patch with fabric, if necessary. Rebond as above. For small punctures, a shot of latex caulk or dribble of latex paint will do.

Abrasion – Patch, bond and topcoat. Consider a chafe patch or ropework, or eliminate the source.

Delamination – Slice the matrix to peel back. Inject latex caulk as deeply as possible. Work away from the slice to fill the blind pockets, then reverse and work toward the opening. Squeeze any excess out and smooth. Topcoat.

Repaint – We like to spot paint as the topcoat wears through to primer, and repaint fully when it gets widespread. On SLACKTIDE, that seems to be a full recoat every four or five years. We've never tried it, but I see no reason not to add pucky over paint if general re-thickening of the matrix seems advisable. In general, we try to avoid wearing down into the fabric itself... so far, no more than paint has seemed necessary.

* * * * *

Acrylic is great stuff, and useful in many places where glass fabric is structurally unnecessary. It happily works with epoxies, but also with much friendlier, water-based products.

Consider the application and what is demanded of it. Will a cheaper, easier, more benign suite of materials do the trick?

If so, why not?

A Note on Longevity

Rule of thumb on fishboats was that a lagging/burlap deck would last about 15 years. Synthetic fabrics were thought to last longer somewhat longer, perhaps to 20 years. Use and quality of application likely played a role.

Epoxy decks are generally considered to last 20 to 25 years, I've read.

The problem for comparison had been that most side-by-side data was generated by yachts vs non-epoxy workboats (which have only fairly recently 'gone over'). Even full-time cruisers don't give their decks the workouts that a fishboat takes. In addition, a mid-season epoxy repair is a non-starter for a working vessel. That being said, non-epoxy fishboat decks likely gets/got more new layers slathered on, here and there, than the yacht.

My guess is that they may be fairly comparable if traffic loads are taken into account?

Crank Boats and the Cranks Who Love Them

Joshua Slocum - Leadin' the Way
Took this li'l fixer-upper round the world

I got an Old Fat Boat, she's slow but handsome --

Hard in the chine, soft in the transom --

I love her well!

She must love me,

Though sometimes I think its for my money!

-- from Gordon Bok's Old Fat Boat

Crank Boats and the Cranks Who Love Them

It used to be, tucked away in cove and backwater or moored along the far end of otherwise respectable harbors, one could find boats and persons of interest. Crank boats and the cranks who love them.

Cranks exuded personality.

Crank boats were strange and wondrous of line, often fantastic of rig. They had been built or converted or repaired or transformed, by steady and patient labor, to match the visions of some dreamer. Their pedigrees were dubious, mutted beyond all classification. Each a bold statement of individuality. Each a leap away from the mundane. Ex-centric.

Invention and experiment were casually strewn about, aloft and alow. Solutions by those long of need and short of pocket. Improvisation, makeshift and found-art the rule.

Form may have fit function in obvious albeit unfamiliar harmony. Or cross-purposes, inscrutable to the uninitiated, might jar the beholder.

Previous incarnations – as a ship's lifeboat, a painter's punt or fishboat – glimmered through overlays of ingenuity, hinting of past lives.

Their paint might have needed renewal, their rigging could stand tuning, moss or even grass might have found a foothold. Plank and timber may have relaxed, here and there, succumbing to entropy's lullaby.

Someone invested themselves in these vessels. Someone loved them. Created them in their own image.

Like their craft, those someones were a crank lot.

Often gimpy or missing bits... teeth gone awry or just plain gone... knurled by a life of hard knocks... piercing eye(s) squinting through clouds of smoke... gruff and squally of temperament.

They generally had nothing better to do than offer a drink and an afternoon's worth of pleasant company. Stories to tell and lives to recall. Big ideas and small. Horizons to cross once the Old Girl was brought back into shape. Any day now.

Mostly single men, but sometimes not. They formed a community who knew and looked after one another. Welcomed and mentored new-comers, young and old.

*****

There is challenge and pleasure to a crank boat, mostly lost to a generation of sailors with standards. Who expect much of their toys. Even the renaissance in traditional boat-building often demotes tradition to dogma. Takes innovation for heresy.

A crank boat is created by warm-blooded hands to convictions personally felt and lived. Even second or third hand, it sings a siren song to seduce a kindred spirit. But somewhere along its way, someone with a soul cared enough to breath life into her.

Crank boats have personality. You've got to learn their ways and humor them. Maximize strengths and work around weaknesses. Most everyone loves their boat. Crank boats are loved passionately.

Why? What is it about imperfection that inspires true love where perfection palls?

I think the answer lies in intimacy, in the partnership which crank boats demand.

They are not turn-key. They won't settle for 'pride of ownership', that smug and shallow glow from having the sense and means to make a fine purchase. They didn't roll off some assembly-line perfected by specialists.

With a crank boat, you have to earn your pride. Overcome challenge and obstacle. Apply will, wit and wisdom to deficit and obstacle. Work the angles, break a sweat. Pick up a few scars.

Crank boats teach us to think outside the box. We learn from them, their lessons arriving without syllabus. They demand the best from us, and we love them for it.

When we buy a factory boat, we so often fit ourselves to them. Reduce ourselves to the dull mean for whom they have been designed. Our creativity is exhausted in the choice of colors, fabric or accessories drawn from a narrow list of 'options'. We convince ourselves that we are now among the Beautiful People who inhabit glossy advertisements. Worse, perhaps, is that it becomes true – that our lives become a photo-thin imitation of happiness.

*****

Take a walk, now, down the docks among the gleaming extrusions. If anyone's aboard at all, how often are they polishing chrome to a glister of glare? Or washing salt spray from their topsides, as if their boat was allergic to the sea? How many have a morning or afternoon to while away? How many have even a story to tell?

Hmm. I'm being a bit hard and less than accurate, here. But you know what I mean.

The cranks are mostly gone, whether afloat or afoot. Pushed and priced and fined and impounded and scuttled and land-filled from the public harbors and corners of the sea. 'Cleaned up', as if we weren't talking about a person. A home.

Who gives a fig for vagabonds with their eye-sore fleet of derelicts?

I miss 'em.

Pogo Boatin’ with Walt Kelly

Don’t take life too serious... 

It ain’t nohow permanent.

-- Walt Kelly (1913-1973)

Pogo Boatin’ with Walt Kelly

The origins of obsession are often lost in the murky past. Why am I a Square Boat-nik?

Who knows? Maybe they sat me on a square bucket during potty training? Maybe the ‘voyages’ my Brother and I made in cardboard boxes played a role? Maybe being generally un-hip (aka square) had something to do with it?

But sometimes, they jump out at ya!

Walt Kelly’s Pogo featured a loose community of characters living deep in Okefenokee Swamp. Through them, he gently parodied (US) American life, politics and religion in a sly, folksy manner now all but extinct.

My Grandparents had several of his books, collecting the strip. One of the many highlights of visiting them was to read and reread them all, understanding more of their deeper wit with each passing year. Their antics were plenty amusing on a superficial level, and I came to see how they reflected those of the larger world around me, in all its nonsensical glory.

In another way of looking at them, each of the characters could be seen as facets of a single personality. The calm center of Pogo himself; loyal Churchy; grumpy ol' Porkypine; pragmatic Missus Beaver with her children chockablock with wide-eyed wonder and mischief; Albert, impetuous and half-cocked; Ma'm'selle, dreamy yet sensible; even the Deacon, tending to a grim preachiness... all aspects I recognize in myself.

And fer sure, the denizens of Okefenokee enjoyed their lives.

While often to be seen foraging for nuts or greens or fishing, they had no paid work. No schedules. No commute. Just the long, lazy days, filled with philosophistry, poetry, music and the occasional fooferaw.

And frequently they would enjoy themselves in a series of punts – box barges in miniature – named after cities and notables whom Walt admired.

Naturally, the indolence and sheer fun of it all blended in my mind with those square boats.

Naturally!

NOTE: I believe all graphics to be the work of Walt Kelly, with the exception of the final panel (drawn in tribute on Walt's passing), which artist I was unable to identify. [I've since found an attribution to Selby Kelly, Walt's wife and collaborator... seeking confirmation.]

NOTE: Other fictional communities of roughly similar flavor include A.A. Milne's Winnie the Pooh stories, Kenneth Grahame's The Wind in the Willows, and Arthur Ransome's Swallows and Amazons stories.