Events

Redentore 2018: hang that boat, tote that bale

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The fireworks on Saturday night for the annual festa of the Redentore were in the top five I’ve ever seen in my life — beyond spectacular — full of new designs and gorgeous combinations, an exhibition that ran almost 15 minutes over the usual 30.  It was thrilling.

There was a thunderstorm at 9:30 for a while that made it unclear whether the show would go on at 11:30 as usual, or if all those little bombs would still be combustible if lit in front of what might have been only a scattering of drenched, diehard boats.  Also, restaurants all along via Garibaldi were forced to implement their disaster procedure, staff racing to clear tables and carry them inside (the customers were figuring out their own strategies, some of which were “Well hey, let’s just keep on singing in the rain”).

But the rain stopped, the people took heart, and the pyrotecnics proceeded.

Sunday morning dawned bright and shiny, and as we strolled we came upon one of the most eloquent demonstrations I’ve ever seen of what taking your boat to the Redentore means.  It’s the aftermath that reveals the truth about you and your boat.

Somebody didn’t remember — if they knew — that the tide goes out (meaning down) every 6 hours. This doesn’t mean you shouldn’t tie your boat to a railing, even though obviously the line won’t slide downward along with the descending boat. But it does mean that you should allow lots and lots and lots of slack. As was not done here. In ordinary parlance, the boat is “impiccata” — hanged. As in what you do to criminals on the gallows.

Any seadog with a shred of foresight — let’s even posit that he/she doesn’t drink — might have considered consulting the updated daily forecast of the tides (height and depth of) so usefully provided by the Tide Center of the Comune of Venezia.  Italian language skills not required.  I appreciate that after a festive evening, which might have begun at 3:00 PM, one’s thoughts on caring for one’s boat might turn more naturally to preventing its floating away than toward its dropping a few feet straight down.

This owner was extremely lucky in one way: At this moment, the tide had already begun to rise, which meant that although the boat was still hanged, it wasn’t drowned as well.  Because it isn’t the hardest thing in the world for the rising water to begin to go over the gunwale of the boat and peacefully and efficiently fill it up.  I have seen this and it is not a happy sight; you can bail out the boat, but the effect of salt water on your submerged engine is a catastrophe.  Those horses will never run again.

Another point: There are scores of boating knots, the most important qualities of which are reliability, ease of tying and — most important — ease of untying.  This person has succeeded impressively with the first, and perhaps with the second.  But the weight of the boat has jammed this knot beyond recovery.
Different knot toward the stern, but the same problem remains. I have no idea how one would release this knot even in the best conditions.  Lino took one look and said, “He’ll never be able to open that knot. His only solution will be to cut it.” Well, fine — what difference does that make? None, I suppose, except that it’s the nautical equivalent of the white flag.  And before you start bragging that you’re totally in control of knotting, a very old salt once told me, “You can’t say you know how to tie a knot until you can tie it at night, upside down, in a storm.”
Lino teaches his students a few knots, but naturally they forget everything in the moment of necessity.  At which point he says “Just make the knot you use to tie your shoes!”  Not something Commander Hornblower might have said, but actually it works just fine.

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3 Comments

  1. I have been following your blog for years even though I have never commented. Every post evokes memories from the trip to Venice back in 2016.

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  2. Thank you so much, Erla, for this latest account of Selvatico and his achievements. We have often wondered about him as we stroll through his campiello. In September, we will visit Venice probably for our last (and 35th!) time, owing to age and declining prosperity. Your blogs are so wonderful as a means of disseminating little-known historical stories about the Venice we love so much, and even more about daily life there today, of which we as visitors catch only a glimpse.

    We give many presentations to U3A (University of the Third Age) in Australia, often about Venice and Italy, and stories from your eagerly awaited blogs (always acknowledged) have given us those extra snippets of the Venetian tale to add to our talks. Our huge library of Veneziana at home, and your delightful insights into life there will have to suffice in place of future visits. Thank you so much!
    John Flint

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