Coming home

Coming home

I have good news for podcast folk: The Ship Report website is up to date, finally, after a rocky patch where I struggled to keep up with it. Thank you for sticking with me. If you were put off by the lack of posts, I hope you’ll come back.

Within the past year or so, I launched a new Ship Report website, posted podcasts to it, and then did a not very good job of keeping them current, while juggling the consuming duties of being my elderly father’s caretaker in the final phase of his life. His long and well-lived existence came to an end on April 4 of this year. Ninety-eight years of being his own amazing person, and most important to me – my dad.

For people who didn’t know him, he was one of the most intelligent and innovative people I’ve ever met. When I was a kid I looked up to him and thought he knew everything. When I got older, I realized this wasn’t far off the mark, and mot much of an exaggeration. It seemed he really DID know everything, at least everything in my world. When I was a kid he built our first television, built new kitchen cabinets for my mother, built a sailboat when he decided he wanted a boat, and renovated a larger wooden boat later when he wanted a larger craft. He was always building and inventing things. He knew a lot and what he didn’t know, he studied until he got it.

He was a scientist for a living, working among a high end group of professionals at Brookhaven National Laboratory, in New York, during the era of the budding atomic reactor and the creation of the atomic bomb. He used to come home from work in black government-issued sedans with the Atomic Energy Commission logo on the door. When I was little he flew to Los Alamos, New Mexico, as part of the Manhattan Project.  He was a computer guy when computers were new, and a math major in college, which he attended on the GI Bill. 

To me he was a kind, generous and demanding dad. He always had my back, but he expected a lot. To make a long story short, I loved him dearly and we were very close, and he was always there for me. I always felt like I never quite lived up to his expectations for me, but I would imagine a lot of us feel that way about our parents.

So, in these last couple of months,  I have been grieving the loss of a man who has defined my life in many ways, and certainly taught me the strong work ethic, honesty and commitment that I feel today about the things I do. Grieving is a journey, as anyone who has lost a loved one knows.

He taught me to love the sea, and the same salt water that ran in his blood also runs in mine. It’s because I’m Stu Rideout’s daughter that the Ship Report has become such a fascination and long term project for me.  I’ve been doing the show for 16 years and I still love it. There is always more to learn and to share. And I still get a sense of happy well-being when I on something that’s floating, whether it’s a kayak, a sailboat or a ship.

The Ship Report website is pretty much up to date now with podcasts, and I hope you check it out. I feel ready now to keep it current, and that’s why I’m bringing it up. There are a few missing reports here and there, and in the ensuing weeks I’ll go through and see if I can retrieve and post them.

On the new site, the most recent posts are displayed in the rotating graphic at the top of the page, and you can click through them. If you just want to see the entire list of what’s on the site, just click any link that says Ship Report Podcasts.

Finally, many thanks to all of you who are on this Ship Report journey with me, loyal through my ups and downs. I have you in mind every time I go on the air, and I am always seeking interesting things to talk about that I hope you find interesting too. Thank you for sharing in this wonderfully nerdy maritime journey we are on together. And, always, always, thanks for listening.

Coming home

How to access podcasts

A quick note on how to access podcasts: the current month’s podcast are here in this area. You’ll find the complete archive of podcasts (including the current month), when you click the Ship Report Podcasts link at the top of the page. Thanks for listening to the Ship Report!

Damn you, Oregonian. What were you thinking?

Damn you, Oregonian. What were you thinking?

I ordinarily try to avoid ranting in public. It generally does no good and can be enormously unattractive. But some things just call for a response.

I have been seeing a lot of warnings on social media and in various publications, about the BIG waves – 40 feet – that we are going to see on the coast this week. I’ve seen weather reports, newspaper articles, and warnings from the Coast Guard about the hazards of being on the beach over the next few days.

And then, AND THEN (you can hear the rant coming) I see an article from The Oregonian, THE OREGONIAN, of all things, one of the biggest publications in the state, telling people where they can go to watch waves because they’ll be really big and it’ll be really cool. And here’s a list of place where you can see the waves close up. What? WHAT? I know Portland is insulated from life on the coast, but really?

I shared a post from the US Coast Guard this weekend on Facebook where they were literally BEGGING  people to stay off beaches during this storm. It’s rare to see a Coast Guard press release with the words “please, please” in it; the USCG tends to be a bit dry in their communiques. But they thought it was important enough to beg.

In matters of public safety my opinions are anything but humble, so here it is: it was terribly irresponsible of the Oregonian to invite droves of people to come the the beach and die this week. But that’s what they did. I read the article. They mentioned a few cliff top spots. But some are just beach spots right at sea level. Not, not, a good idea this week. The thrill is momentary, the risk is high, and the grief for your loved ones could be huge. And many resources involving risk to other people will be deployed to try and find you when you’re already dead.

So, dear Ship Report listeners, and you are dear to me or I would not bother to post this rant: if you decide to go to the beach this week, go somewhere high: we have some great spots to wave watch that are high up: the Cape Disappointment visitor center at the park in Ilwaco, the cliffs in Cannon Beach, Ecola State Park. I’m sure there are many more. The point is – get some altitude above the waves so you can enjoy them. I don’t want to hear about anyone being swept away by a giant sneaker wave they didn’t see coming. But that’s why they call them sneakers, because they rise up out of nowhere, and they will be happening this week. A sneaker wave with a big log in it is a certain death wave.

I don’t presume to tell anyone how to live their life. I know some people will go to the beach, do stupid things and live. Lord knows I’ve done a lot of dumb things in my life and survived. But some may not. And when that happens, we will all say (too late) “they should have known better.”

So I just want to add my voice to those who are saying: if you go, stay up high on the cliffs, be careful, be mindful, don’t turn your back on the ocean. You know what I’m saying.  Now it’s time to listen.

It may be selfish of me, but I don’t want to see your life snuffed out. I want you to be here so you can keep listening to The Ship Report. That’s all, Be careful out there. Thanks.