The Hacker Craft

This is a true Vintage beauty and I am amazed at the feeling I got when I stood looking at this wooden antique. Where did she come from and who on earth owned her?


Mr Speas didn't have any history on her, just was fixing up a few 'spots' was all!

Hmm.. Is there a story here?

  Please don't reduce me to the numbers on my bow.


My owners have all crossed over. 
The children, the men and women, they've all gone on.
Who to look after me now?

Hacker Craft A boat building company still in Silver Bay, NY. Where my lines were drawn, my bow laid true.

Countless captains at my helm. My wheel is worn from many fingers, both adept and untrained.
Children sitting on their father's knees giggling as I carried the family clear of shoals and rocks.

Green on one side, red on the other. My markers warning others: "Make Way!" There's a queen sailing through!

Steady thrum of my engine.... Oh what power I have! 
I can glide through the swells in breathtaking glory! 

Fine chrome for my nostrils! 

The skiers I tow have my name burned in their memories....

Come! Slid into my cockpit and we shall sail the lakes and rivers!
I am Hacker... Take my wheel?




All of these photos were again shot and loaded directly from my Nikon P90 and then posted without alteration of any kind.

Hacker Craft - A Vintage Boat

 We discovered a fellow in Welaka, Florida who is a second generation boat restorer and the next couple of days are going to be about him and his boat shop and what's inside.

 Let's look inside?
The first thing you'll notice is stacks of lumber and shelves of tools. 
Some of the lumber is years and years old and from his father's youth.

This man fixes antique boats and restores them to their original glory. He and his father, Richard Speas, were and are masters of their trade and the work is amazing.

He was very open to sharing his knowledge and was happy to let me snap away.

A Hacker Craft.
More about this beauty tomorrow.

A couple of other interested fellows stopped in when we were there.

He has lots of bits and pieces and here are a few antique motors.

I don't know anything about this picture, but it was hanging on his wall! A cute threesome!
Anybody need a date for the prom?

This green and white boat is actually a prototype for a 51 foot commercial vessel that his Dad had built. 

This is a full length shot of the Hacker Craft.
Look at all the templates and pieces of wood!

He also keeps a maritime museum right in town. We had planned on touring it, but went over to Daytona instead.

I can't help but think there's a ship out there somewhere missing it's nose decoration?

I took more pictures and tomorrow I'm going to post more.
Thanks for coming along! This little town is jammed packed full of great places and people. I miss it and we've only been home a few weeks!


All of these photos were again shot and loaded directly from my Nikon P90 and then posted without alteration of any kind.

Boat at Fort Gates Ferry

Back at the Fort Gates Ferry docks, we looked waaay over and saw this beauty in waiting! I can find no information on this vintage beauty of the river, so if you know anything about the manufacture or history, please comment!

Envision the decks as they must have once been, stacked with cargo or perhaps a few passengers traveling to winter at Silver Springs.


Long skirts with bustles and bonnets. Not just simple bonnets, but ones adorned with many ribbons and feathers. Delicate complexions shaded from the intense Florida sunshine by a wide brim or perhaps a parasol. Cheeks flushed from the sultry, southern heat.


Silk and satin sleeves of such length that I cannot imagine wearing them in the thick, milky heat and the intensely cloying humidity must have made the fabric feel like the clammiest of serpents tongues!

Perhaps a lady perched upon a deck chair? Lightly mind... The bustle would not allow a full width of a bottom to have purchase. The roll of the ship would have made sitting so a feat of balance and firmly planted feet. To sit and watch the river float past. To gaze at the strange wildlife that called this tropical land home. So different from a northern city!

Steadying herself with feet encased in tough, unyielding leather boots with a dozen tiny buttons to their tops. Tiny feet trapped in the hot recesses. Ankles chaffed from the stiff, sandpaper edges where boot met pale skin.


Weeping feet tap tapping their way along the whitewashed decks, one before the other, pacing the planks in any attempt to dissuade the oppressive heat in this God Forsaken swamp!


Layers upon layers of under drawers and petticoats and  crinolines... How to survive in this oppressive heat?

Snowy white handkerchief held firmly to a small, aristocratic nose. A vain attempt at keeping the green, moldy smell from flaring nostrils.  


The ship sailed on. Never noticing her discomfort and dispair.

Husband.... Ancient man that she had been promised to.... 

Husband... Standing at the bow with others like him. Cigars to lips, hands gesturing in talk... Men's talk that she was certainly not allowed to even hear.. They spoke of such dull and droll things. Cattle. Banking. Why would they even think she would care? She ached for female companionship. Tomorrow, the boat was due at Fort Gates where there were bound to be women! 


God! Please let there be a woman to talk to!

Finally, a breeze! She fled to her cabin and same breeze caressed her face through her solitary window still.


Miserable dress to the floor! Unyielding boots to the floor! Despicable, tiresome hat to the chair's seat and sinking, falling, stretching onto sheets of thick creamy cotton.


Sleep. the sound of the engines thrumming and ... Sleep!


The river passes by.




All of these photos were again shot and loaded directly from my Nikon P90 and then posted without alteration of any kind.

A Sunken Boat on The St Johns River

The following story is a work of fiction.

 

A boat:

   She was running as fast as her legs would carry her and it still didn't seem fast enough! They would come any minute! Not daring to look back, legs flailing and arms pumping, she charged on. 

Would the sheriff come for her? She didn't really care anymore. She had done the thing and the monster was gone for sure! She clenched her teeth as a palm front hit her, stinging her cocoa cheek and catching her tangled mass of hair.

Rosie was a slave. Born a slave something like twelve years ago. Raised a slave and would have likely died a slave if she hadn't just done the damnedest thing imaginable and killed her master!

It had all been so easy after all was said and done! 

Each night after he had heaved himself onto her tiny, undeveloped body and sated his never ending lust, he drifted off in exhausted slumber for just that second. After she had gotten over the initial mortification of this nightly occurrence, she had schemed and planned this one precious night down to a detail!

"Wait til his ragged breathing leveled out to a soft sighing and his puffy eyelids drifted shut. Now, don't wiggle girl and you wait for just that second until you're sure he's nodded off."

She had timed it a dozen nights.

She had had the rock tucked under the top of the corn shuck mattress. (Standard fare even for one so honored with entertaining the master!) She had waited until the rest of her cabin mates were otherwise engaged with the harvest.

She had found a boat in the swamp and tied it tight. She had hidden a few bits of stolen food in a rag and tucked it up under the gunwales. She had found a corn crib slat and hid it, hoping that the thin lumber would suffice as an oar. The river's current ran to the north where the smart ones said was freedom!

And each night as dusk fell, she waited and prayed that there would come another more pretty or more desirable than her who could take his interest away from her. This had been her only home after all!

But of course that hadn't happened.

She had waited and bid her time until the perfect night to smash his scull to smithereens....

And then she ran.....

    I don't know about you, but when I stumble upon something like this abandoned boat, I conjure up all sorts of stories and fantasies. Seeing as this photo was taken in the south, well, I'm sure there were hundreds of stories like the one I just dreamed up. 


   I live about an hour from Dresden, Ontario which is the end of the underground railroad and location of Uncle Tom's Cabin.

One of these days, when we're over there, I'll take some pictures and show you too.


I hope if there ever was a young girl named Rosie that she made it to freedom and that she never had to endure such treatment. 

If I had been in that situation, could I have been brave enough to run?

This poor old skiff was awash and left abandoned in Fort Gates, where the ferry and fish camp are located. It made for nice picture taking, but when my mind wanders, well....

The patterns and designs are fascinating!

You can see the framework under water. How many years before it sinks or the bits and pieces just slip away?


Did this once sturdy vessel carry a young woman bound for freedom, dogs and blood thirsty men pounding after her. Did she hide it right here and catch the ferry or did a charitable person scoop her into their wagon headed for the safety of the north?


I just hope so!


All of these photos were again shot and loaded directly from my Nikon P90 and then posted without alteration of any kind.

Fort Gates Ferry, Florida

There are a couple ferries that are used to cross the beautiful St Johns River in Florida.


This is the one called Fort Gates Ferry and actually it's a campground and fishing camp as well as home to the ferry.

This is the on ramp to the ferry which crosses the Saint Johns River just north of Lake George. The ferry's east dock is located in the Gateway Fish Camp just north of Fruitland, Florida. The ferry docks on the west side of the river, at the end of the dirt Salt Springs Road in the Ocala National Forest.

 The river is wide and the current very strong.

You'd be amazed at the size of this ferry and it's reportedly been in service in some form or another since the Seminole war and during the Civil War she carried Confederate troops across the river. It's name comes from Fort Gates that was located on the west bank during the Civil War. All remains of Fort Gates are now gone. 

Confidence exudes from the appearance of the old barge and a tiny tug boat that is attached to the barge on a pivot. The mighty tug boat pulls the barge carrying two cars at a time from one shore to the other. Once docked, a rusty old ramp is lowered down onto the ferry for the cars to get off and the tug boat swings around on its pivot to change direction. 

Yep! That's the captain of this fine vessel at the helm. 


...And no.... We didn't go across!

Not very good quality, but these vintage photos were posted in the window of the 'office'. 

I have tried to Google the ferry and Fort gates, but as little as the ferry is.... is the information available. 


All of these photos were again shot and loaded directly from my Nikon P90 and then posted without alteration of any kind.

Ships

Abandoned Ships from Mooresville, North Carolina.


Now, you might wonder about Mooresville, but you have to remember Lake Norman is only a couple of miles away.

These just struck us as so Bizarre! Are they old or just something so weathered because they were projects that were never finished?

Are they dreams that were lost?


Or abandoned voyages from Captain Nemo's pages........?


Cool though, aren't they?


All of these photos were again shot and loaded directly from my Nikon P90 and then posted without alteration of any kind.