22 comments

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  • evden eve nakliyat evden eve nakliyat ankara halı yıkama ankara koltuk yıkama ankara nakliyat ankara nakliye ankara evden eve nakliyat nakliyat ankara evden eve nakliyat nakliye halı yıkama ev tekstili web tasarım ankara halı yıkama soÄŸutma

  • said met19

  • 2010.08.19 at 03:47:36 PDT

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  • very nices article. ankara evden eve nakliyat oto kiralama tüp bebek ve ankara halı yıkama ankara evden eve nakliyat ankara evden eve oto kiralama ankara evden eve nakliyat ankara nakliye evden eve nakliyat tüp bebek halı yıkama

  • said kardelenmetin2

  • 2010.03.17 at 05:51:20 PDT

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  • After having lived blissfully or unblissfully in IGNORANCE for almost a year, I just discovered that the complete stories, accompanying the individual photos, have been cut off after a certain number of characters. Even though my album has been viewed almost 15000 times, no one made me aware of this. I have found a way, though, to circumvent this Webshot deficiency by copying the whole text here in the respective guestbook. So, for the benefit of those who are still intersted, I have copied all (only) those comments/stories which are not shown with the respective photos. Hans

  • said hansinnm_

  • 2002.03.13 at 09:37:50 PST

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  • #65: The last picture of the slide show: I had to document Mike’s accomplishment of putting 10 or 11 boats on the trailer and the van. He did it all alone. True, we handed him the parts/pieces, but HE put them in place and secured eachon himself. Of course, there was a certain amount of self-preservation involved. He was the one who drove the van back to Miami , West Florida,and home. He didn’t want to replicate my experience of loosing amas and roof racks on the highway, going 75 miles an hour. Mike, I am not sure if it is John Fischer or not, and Roger are proudly showing their bods in front of the trailer which made many people ask themselves if we were coming from “outer space”. No wonder, most of us did look like we were spaced out. One other thing, the devil is making me say it, was that this morn one of our co-sailors, I am not going to mention any name, just that he came from the British Islands, abandoned us, not helping with putting the boats, his one, too, onto the trailers, under the pretense that he did not have time (even though his plane did not leave until about 6 or 7 PM that night.) And that concludes the saga of the WindRider 16 Adventure Cruise from Miami to Key West from February 24, through March 3, 2001. ( The Office of Redaction denies responsibility for any and all mistakes, misidentifications, slanders, untruths, exagerations, or just plain lies. It was NOT me {I} who was the culprit. You have to take that up with my OTHER EGO, if you catch it/him.)

  • said hansinnm_

  • 2002.03.12 at 11:04:43 PST

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  • #63: The Finale! One last picture of the whole gang, almost whole gang after arriving in Key West. Missing is: Pierre Dijon, Greg Burst, and Chuck McCara. I’ll try to identify everybody else on this photo: From left to right: Steve Brown (standing, waiving his hand) Jim Brown (sitting on ama), Eric Arens ( standing to right of Jim), John Greenstreet (sitting next to Jim with hand on his chin), Kris Engvall (standing to the right of John), Robert Pugh ( standing next to Kris), Jim McCaig (sitting in front of Robert), Roger Notarian (next to Jim), Gary Thompson (sitting next to Roger), Tom White (with yellow life vest, standing behind Gary), Dan Larned (standing next to Tom, with hand on his hip), Sandy Burke (showing some parts of her body which didn’t get sun-burned), Glen Stenke (behind Sandy and Mike), Mike McGarry (to the right of Glen), John Fischer (kneeling), Skip Brennan (with the red hankerchief around his neck), and finally myself, Hans Schoenhofen (showing a beer can in my belly, put on my T-shirt by X-ray; I had to do that because people were constantly asking me what month the baby was.) Now, there is something I must tell you all. Something, which, for the life of me, I could not understand and could not make “heads and tail” out of: When we left the Dolphin Resort in the morning, yes we HAD WIND, all of us tacked across the bay, but then more than two thirds kept on tacking forth and back going south towards the island which was blocking the entrance to the bay, like they were looking for Key South rather than Key West. I know, Tom, Roger, Glen, and I headed for the wide opening west between that island and the shore to the right. Maybe somebody else did it, too. I could not keep track of everybody; was too busy keeping track of myself, so that I wouldn’t get lost again , as in days past. Thanks again to my shining beacon, Glen’s red sail, he guided me to Key West. And low and behold, I was not the last one to make it in. Well, signs and miracles are still happening these days.

  • said hansinnm_

  • 2002.03.12 at 11:03:40 PST

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  • #58: Yes, that’s me, that’s I, and my niece whom I had not seen for almost 10 years. She and her husband spend the winter months on their boat in Marathon, to be exact, on Key Colony Beach. I had the good fortune spending two nights with them and eating some of the best fish of my life (just caught the same day.) But it almost did not happen. When I tried to phone them my electronic address book was dead. Deader than a door nail. And here my gratitude goes out to Bev again. She took me to K Mart where I bought new batteries and the clerk got my niece’s number back. I told him to hand me a pen and paper to write it down b/4 it disappeared again. Lucky me! I now still have her number while all my other addresses and phone numbers of more than 8 years collecting did get lost for good. That’s life! It would seem a big loss, but it is nothing compared to the loss of my only son and child at the young age of 23 years.

  • said hansinnm_

  • 2002.03.12 at 10:39:03 PST

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  • #33: And here you see some of the bunch relaxing on the Dolphin Resort beach. I think that is Eric(standing) talking to a young lady. I don’t know who the other pirates are. Now you see my boat smack in the middle in front of you. What’s sooo important about that? Nothing much, except, for that red container on my right tramp. More people asked me why I was carrying a two gal container of gas with me when my motor was electric, which was quite obvious, than Carter has liver pills. I did this on purpose so that people could ask me that stupid question (I am NOT accusing anybody of being stupid). Really, I did it out of concern for my co-sailors. That container was filled with water in case we ran out. You see, my life is based on the following principle: “Let your boat of life be light, packed with only what You need, a homely home and simple pleasures, one or two friends worth the name, someone to love and someone to love you, a cat, a dog, and a pipe or two, enough to eat, and enough to wear, and a little more than enough to drink; for thirst is a dangerous thing.” (from ‘Three Man in a Boat’, by Jerome KAPKA [1881]) This wooden plaque decorates my home beer brewery, reminding me every day not to run out of beer.

  • said hansinnm_

  • 2002.03.12 at 10:36:27 PST

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  • #32: Hehind me are some 9,10, 11 or who how many boats. One thing, I am sure of,is that right behind me was John Fischer. I think, the rest behind him wished at one time that they were not behind me. Why? you wonder. I had a 50 foot line ( don’t ask me what it was) and I had asked Eric if it was strong enough. He thought it was, but that I should go on the end of the boat string. Well, I was out with the first to get hooked up to Pierre’s boat, and in my enthusiasm, I totally forgot Eric’s remark about being the last, and maybe it was my wishful thinking and determination of not being the last again, like the days before. Anyway, I was the third boat in the sting. Everything went OK for a mile or so, before Pierre decided to speed up our excursion to some 7-8 miles per hour. Kapeng!! Pierre, Robert, Dan and I were going places while the rest were yelling not to abandon them. Can you image, we would have been in hog heaven. Eric had only been able to get three rooms reserved. Dan, Robert and I, each of us would have had a room all to ourself. Piere didn’t need one since he lived in Marathon. What about Mike. No problem. His travelling spleeping van was already at the Dolphin Resort Motel. Those guys were lucky that Pierre had a long, thick extra rope in his boat and Mike got some more training jumping into the water,swimming to the various boats and using, what knot was that again? to tie the boats together again. But the adventure was not over yet, at least not for Dan. He had to fight for his life for most of the remaining trip. Why him??? I don’t know. He and Pierre should have gotten along just fine, but somehow they spoke two different French accents. Pierre with his accent from Saarbruecken, which he claimed was French (and I contradicted him at the camp in Key Largo and told him that Saarbruecken was as German as it could get) and Dan with his Parisian accent, which HE acquired while vacationing for eight years in Paris, royally, no colonelly, paid for with the compliments of the US Army( pronounce: US taxpayers), anyway those two just didn’t understand eachother. When Pierre was happy in his “fast lane”, Dan got flooded in his boat trying to avoid (of all people) Robert’s WindRider wake who in turn had to figure out how to avoid Pierre’s motoryacht wake. Robert was able to do that by following Pierre in a dogleg fashion, you know, the rearend is slightly out of line with the frontend. By angling his WR from 5:45 AM to 11:45 AM he succeeded to keep himself relatively dry. Not so Dan. I even tried to tell that he should do the same as Robert did, but he didn’t understand my French with a German accent. You see, I did what Robert did and I hardly got a drop in my boat. If you look at John Fischer’s photo, you’ll see that I totally relaxed under my blue and white bimini. A couple of times, Pierre got tired pushing the gaspaddle with his leadfoot and slowed down to 4-5 m/h and Dan had a chance to pump the water out of his boat, but as soon as that was done Pierre’s foot had regained its strength again and “whoopie!!!”, off we were ploughing the high seas at 7-8 m/h. But it all came to a happy early end (after about 4-5 hours) when Pierre cut the umbilical cord to Robert’s boat 1/2 to 1/3 of a mile away from the Dolphin Resort.

  • said hansinnm_

  • 2002.03.12 at 10:35:16 PST

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  • #31: This is the 5th day of our “SAILING ADVENTURE”. And was it an adventure! Without Pierre, it would have turned into a nightmare. Either trying to pack 15 or 16 boats on the trailer and get them to our next destination, or paddle (which I think would have been an impossible task, considering that it would have been some 25 to 27 miles; the electric motors would not have gotten us there either. They would have conked out long before we reached Little Torch Key.), or just wait for the wind which did come up in the afternoon. But I think it would have taken us to midnight to sail to the Dolphin Resort on Little Torch Key, since the winds were barely 4-5 miles per hour. So, here came Pierre with his motor boat, whose acquaintance I already had made the day before. You see Dan in front of me in Jim Brown’s red WindRider and between him and the boat is Robert. What you don’t see is what happened later on. As we all got going, everything was going well, until Pierre decided that it was time give up this life in the “slow lane”. You see he is used to live in the “fast lane” in Marathon, going 35 miles an hour noplace. And here, we were going places. So he cranked that boat engine to 7-8 m/h (that’s what our GPS’s told us, ask John) and it happened. (You’ll find out when you go the next picture.

  • said hansinnm_

  • 2002.03.12 at 10:31:01 PST

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  • #28: And here is that impatient gang, but I am there now,too. Let me try to identify everybody. Since my digital camera is not a thousand Dollar camera, only a $162 camera, the photos aren’t the greatest/sharpest. Besides, we had to stand soooo far back that all those great/huge WindRider sailors would all get into picture. From left to right: Gary(Thompson); Roger(Notarian); myself(Hans Schoenhofen); John(Fischer); Bob(Robert Pugh); Dan(Larned); Sandy(Burke); Skip(Brennan, I think) in the back between Sandy and Mike(McGarry); Bev( Bob’s slave. Please, forgive me Bev. You were NOT his slave, but you sure did a slave’s job of driving all of his stuff from point to point to have it there when the Master arrived.);Jim(McCaig, coming all the way from California)John(Greenstre et, the Englishman);Glen(the WindRider renter); Steve(Brown, Jim Brown’s son); and Tom(White, my buddy from New Mexico) Besides Kris(Engvall and his mother Karen,who did a similar slave job like BEV, driving Kris’s car from point to point), Jim(Brown who is hiding somewhere, since he didn’t want to add anymore fame to his existing one), Skip’s wife Mary( another slavedriver, I mean driving slave), and Pierre(Dijon, I would not dare calling him a driving slave, even though he pulled me in. I don’t want to start Worl War III between the French and the Germans after more than 50 years of peaceful co-existence), Greg(Burst, who burst out about some of the shortcomings of our organizers’ handling the first leg from Miami to Key Largo-see the Phorum discussion.), and Chuck(McCara; he was taking this picture.) are missing in this photo. (If I misidentified anybody, or if I offended anyone, I beg foregiveness. I really did NOT want to do either one.)

  • said hansinnm_

  • 2002.03.12 at 10:29:44 PST

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  • #27: After an evening, night, morning, entertained by coons and no-see-ums (which didn’t not bother me because I had covered my whole body with Avon’s SKIN-SO-SOFT as soon as got my hands on my bag), we were on our way again on our fourth leg of trip with very litte wind, but enough to move. Tom with his colorful Mylar sail is already ahead of me to the left. And several others are even further ahead. No matter what I did, I always (almost always) wound up being the last one, even sailing with a jib. My adventure (one of them) for that day was, being towed in for the last 2-3 miles (or maybe even more miles.) The guys got tired of waiting for me on the beach and they sent Pierre and Mike to get me, since the van and other support vehicles had to take all of us to the motel, except Kris Engvall(from Olympia, Washington) who did sail to the other side, the Gulf side that is, right up to the Buccaneer Resort Motel.

  • said hansinnm_

  • 2002.03.12 at 10:28:07 PST

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  • #26: The coon stories are still going on: What is sooo significant about this photo??? A small, 6x9 foot tent (mine), the corner of a big living+sleeping room tent (Eric’s), a picnic table with all sorts of junk on it. But do you see that little cut-out on the left above the table? There is a bare spot, on which all night long till 6:05AM Robert’s electric glass coffee pot with water (ready for the morning coffee) had been standing. During the night, I had gotten out of the tent several times to shush away the coons who were constantly making a racket. Smart me, I took my little cooler bag with all my valuables: windmeter, GPS, digital camera, batteries etc. into my tent, because I thought they might take all that stuff and head for the WindRiders and sail away. Well, they didn’t get that, and while they had been around all night and not bothered the coffee pot, after it got DAYLIGHT, they decided to get me out of the tent by yanking the pot down, breaking it into hundreds of pieces, making lots of noice, slurping up the water, and just waiting there for me to come out and put on a show for the rest of the gang. They knew that I wasn’t going to take the time to put on any clothes. So I tried to chase them away, wearing my birthday suit, the same I was wearing, the day I was born, except, I didn’t have that 2 inch long beard then. And I tell you: the guy who was slurping the water was huge. He just looked at me as I was yelling at him to get lost. Only after I got as close as 3 or 4 feet away from him, did he mosey on. He had broken that pot for nothing, I think. Either everybody was still asleep, so nobody saw me, or if anybody did see me, he, she, they are polite and not speaking, or they think that the show I was putting on, wasn’t worth talking about.

  • said hansinnm_

  • 2002.03.12 at 10:27:03 PST

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  • #25: What is that mugshot doing in here? As you can tell, that’s not ME, at least not during the sailing trip. The reason for the photo in here is: You are looking at my sailing hat, a museum’s piece worth more than 800 Dollars plus. How did I figure that? Simple! Tom had said that he cared more for the clip than the $400; so the clip must be worth more than $400. That makes the total value in the baggie more than $800, not to speak of his precious cigarettes. Now he, in turn, had rescued my precious hat (the top of my head will vouch for its precious value) realier that morning. I had left it the night before at our gathering where Mike and Sandy had provided us with the most delicious chicken wings, legs, and breasts, a beautiful mixed green salad, potatoe and macaroni salads and some sweet deserts*. (*=Some of that [left-overs] were greatly appreciated by the coons during the night. We thought they would be safe, hidden under the roof. Never underestimate the intelligence and tenacity of coons when it comes to having a chance of getting his/her hands/feet on food.) Anyway, as I was saying, I had left my hat there and the coons thought that they wanted to wear it and took off with it. I don’t know what happened: They either didn’t like its style, color, smell, sweatspots, size, or the big hole in it. In any case, they dropped it somewhere between the bushes and when Tom was looking for his CLIP he found it and returned it to me. So I figure, I exchanged my hat against a baggie worth more than $800 which makes my hat worth more then $800. Anything wrong with my math???

  • said hansinnm_

  • 2002.03.12 at 10:25:54 PST

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  • #24: Next morning at the Long Key State Park while packing up and taking stuff to the trailer for transport.John Fischer and Eric are talking to Tom White. “About what”, you’d say. The topic that morning was: COONS!!! I am sure others can add more details to this story. But here is my recollection: The coons got into uncountable stuff/things/trouble. They had stolen Tom’s ziplockbag with his moneyclip, his cigarettes, and some other items. People and he had already looked for it, but did not find it. After practically everybody had heard story, they started to look again. And it was ME who discovered it. Not that it hadn’t been seen before. I even called Tom when I saw it, and he replied that it was not his bag. Stuborn and the non-believer, which I am, I asked somebody else to crawl under the platform and get that bag. I don’t know if it was Roger or who else, who didn’t mind to crawl under it, instead of me. And would you believe, it was Tom’s baggie with his money, still all there. The coons didn’t want any of his laundered money (I wonder, how often it got laundered on that trip), and they didn’t care for his brand of cigarettes either. Now, one thing you people need to know: “I DON’T CARE ABOUT THE CIGARETTES OR THE MONEY (about 400 Dollars), ALL I CARE ABOUT IS THE MONEY CLIP. That was Tom’s repeated remark. Well, he got it back. They had not even chewed on it.

  • said hansinnm_

  • 2002.03.12 at 10:24:35 PST

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  • #23: Sandy is holding the candle for Eric to wish him a “Happy Birthday”, a wish we all joined into. This happened at the Long Key State Park. Jim McCaig, on the left, is looking on. But before we all got there, a few things happened of which not everyone was aware of. As a matter of fact, when people asked me, I told them that I’d rather not talk about it, because I was too mad,angry, incensed,disappointed. You name it, and it probably will apply. What happened? Not much, but enough to make me feel that way. Remember me telling you about those maps written in Chinese? Well, when we left the camp ground in Key Largo, everybody stayed very close to the shore. I saw some boats heading right for the corner of the bay towards land. I was, as usual, a mile behind when I saw them finally turning away from the land and sailing parallel due west alongside the coast. So, I figured, they found out that they had gone the wrong way and were now heading in the right direction towards the mangrove channel which we were supposed to take. Smartass me, I thought I’ll cut them off and meet them at the channel. Yeah, I did, but not before I almost killed myself through exertion. One other sailor, Tom White had the same idea. And it almost worked, except for the fact that we got stuck on a sandbank. And Tom was smart enough to get out of his boat right at the beginning of the sandbank and yanked it across the the short distance of the bank he was on. He even called me and asked if I was coming towards him and he would help me. I was a super smartass and told him that I’d sail around the bank and meet him later. And later I did. Much later. The further I sailed the more I got myself onto the bank, till I finally could not move anymore. Not forward, not backward, not left , not right. I was hopelessly stuck. Tom, in the meantime, had gotten his boat across the relatively narrow ledge of the sandbank and was on his merry way. He did not look back anymore and I was alone. Miserably alone. I got out of the boat and tried to pull it back. No such luck. My rudder dug deeper as I tried to pull the boat backwards. Then I saw a narrow channel, about one foot wide in the grass/weeds growing on the sandbank. I thought that maybe a motorboat had put that furrow in there with its propeller. I yanked the boat towards it till the keel was right over it. I got in front of my boat in order to pull it ahead. But the moment I stepped into the narrow path, I sank down to my waist in the sand. It was almost like quicksand, similar to what I had seen on television. I never let go of the akas and pulled myself up. There was noone there to do it for me. I had to do it myself. This attempt took my breath and dimished my strength so much that I just climbed on my wide tramp and conked out for five minutes. I had never felt this way before, but then I said to myself, I wished I was 25 years old again, not 70 years. After I regained some strength, I went behind the boat trying to push rather then pulling it. I tried to keep the rudder in the narrow one foot channel. A couple of times (a couple= 5,6, or 7 times) I slipped off into the channel and sank to my crotch in there. As long as I was able to stay away from the narrow channel, I was Ok. That means, relatively speaking. I got down on my knees, to have a larger surface on the sandbank and pushed my boat inch by inch, literally, across, approximately, 100 to 150 feet of the sandbank to where I could see deeper waters. The 100 to 150 feet might as well have been 100 yards or 100 miles. It all seemed the same. I had to climb on my tramp several times to regain enough strength in order to continue. I knew that I had to do it myself, since nobody was in sight to help me. It took me an hour or so, but I did succeed and finally was back in deeper waters. Eventually, I caught up with the last stragglers, who did not have enough wind to go fast. I think, I was again the last one to pull up on the shallow beach of Long Key State Park. Eric asked me about it, and I only told him, nobody else, some of my ordeal. His stoic remark was: “Look at it this way, YOU made it. You didn’t have a heart attack. At your age that should tell you that you got a good, strong heart. You’ll live at least another year or more.” Whooppie!!! Somebody, I don’t want to mention any names, probably would have had a heart attack just over the fact that nobody was there to help. Anyway, I made it, and I am NOT mad/angry/upset at anybody who was with the group. It was my own doing, my own stupidity, my own smartass thinking, my own negligence of not studying the maps or sticking with the rest of the people, or not listening to Tom.

  • said hansinnm_

  • 2002.03.12 at 10:23:38 PST

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  • #16: One of the 20 powerboats, (probably 2 or more millions of Dollars each) on their way back to Miami. (We had seen them the day before near Miami going south.) At closer look one can see the wake they created. But I must say in their favor that they had slowed somewhat, which was more than an ....... in one of the channels who blasted past us as if we were invisible and he were the only one in there. The names I had for him did not slow him at all. He just looked back and grinned and kept on ploughing the narrow channel.

  • said hansinnm_

  • 2002.03.12 at 10:21:47 PST

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  • #15: In one of the two long mangrove channels which became traps for several of the WindRiders since the winds were not favorable to us or non-existant. Several experienced HERE what I had earlier in the morning near the ramp. I was able to sail or motor through without getting caught. The boat with the part red/orange sail tacking is Glenn..... His sail was my SHINIING BEACON for the rest of the trip. When everyone was almost out of sight, his red sail guided me to where I was supposed to go. And believe me, there were many times when I did not know where was going. Looking at those so-called sea maps with their depth indications were printed in Chinese, a language I haven’t mastered yet. The two mile radios which Tom and I had with us did not work either, since Tom didn’t have his turned on and I had not learned yet how to use mine, so consequently, I could not tell Robert how he should use it. Hurrah! for modern technology. It was not MY fault that I did not know how to use them. I could not find anybody to study the instructions which got quite wet in my little cooler bag. I thought we had a guide with us, but apparently, we had not paid him enough, because he always took off, thinking that we would pick up his trail with our keenly developed sense of smell, one thing forgetting though, that water does not retain any leftover traces. I don’t think that even an experienced bloodhound would have been able to find our daily final stopping points. Glenn: THANKS AGAIN FOR YOUR RED SAIL!!!

  • said hansinnm_

  • 2002.03.12 at 10:19:05 PST

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  • #11: Next morning. The cut-out is supposed to give you an idea of how wide the stretch from the ramp to the open water was. Again, my adventure for THIS day came right away in THAT STRETCH. Smart as I am, I thought I better put my sail up while I was still on solid ground at the ramp. Well, I never have been good at backing out, regardless what I had to back out or away from. And the mangroves on the other side of the channel were only ~30 feet away. And we had wind (5-8 m/h.) Anyway, I never got the boat turned into the right direction and the wind filled my sail and pushed right into the trees, to the point that the top of my mast got tangled up with branches sticking way out. Neither paddling, nor electric motor would free me from those darn branches. Finally, a nice guy with small fishing motor boat came to my rescue and pulled me away from the branches so that I was able to head out.

  • said hansinnm_

  • 2002.03.12 at 10:14:35 PST

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  • #10: The Anchorage Resort & Yacht Club on US 1, at the Jewfish Creek Drawbridge, our first night stay. But not before I hit the drawbridge with my sail, putting three tears in the sleeve of my sail, which were repaired, thanks to Mike’s sailtape. How did it happen? Easily! While we were waiting for the bridge to go up, we (that is nine WindRiders) had to constantly maneuver in the winds which were not so great while we came through the mangrove channel which at this point was barely 100 feet wide. I got too close to the bridge, and before I know it, a strong undercurrent pulled right onto the bridge. If it wasn’t for my 29 lb thrust electric motor, I don’t know what would have happened to my sail. My motor saved my day and possibly my trip, since I don’t know if a spare sail was available. Tom White, trying to stay away from the bridge, got hung up in the mangroves and missed the draw. He had to wait 30 minutes to join us. He didn’t miss anything, since the rest of us were trying to figure out how to get to the ramp and overnight docking spaces next to the ramp. We must have worked for more than an hour to just sail/paddle/maneuver/moto r a hundred yards. Look at photo #11.

  • said hansinnm_

  • 2002.03.12 at 10:12:04 PST

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  • #6: Mother Nature was with us all the way. She totaly embraced us with her warm water sprays, which at times didn’t feel so warm when the winds kicked up to 18-20 m/h. My big windshield doubled up as a sprayshield, but was still not big enough from preventing Mother Nature hitting me smack in the face with occasional water splashes. It did, however, prevent her from flooding my cockpit. My cockpit did take on some water from the waves coming over the wave deflector and getting in through the mast step-up. I had to pump about every 5-6 miles.

  • said hansinnm_

  • 2002.03.12 at 10:05:14 PST

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  • Great pictures! http://homepages.msn.com/boomerst/butterflydust/index.html

  • said shannon

  • 2001.05.10 at 19:41:05 PDT

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  • Hans, These are great photos and I can not wait to hear the stories that go with them.

  • said angela

  • 2001.03.12 at 14:55:12 PST

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