Edisto: What’s in a name?

Though normally short on willpower,  I have remained reasonably restrained and consistent in my belief that the User’s Forum is just that – a place for our customers to vent their true feelings,  unimpeded by Big Brother refuting or corroborating their every comment.  So we seldom post to the Forum.

And I have never pictured myself as a writer.  I think I can compose a complete sentence,  somewhat free of grammatical errors.  But my passions run in many other directions,  and generally consume enough of my spare time to keep me from putting fingers to keyboard.

The problem is that I have this unrelenting desire to share stuff about running a small business with whoever cares to check in periodically.

Today,  specifically,  I have a need to cover a couple of the Edisto details that we overlooked in our flyer and web introduction (judging by your comments),  such as its name. This,  therefore,  is my first effort from the front.

Many have written to tell us that others have boat models called the Edisto. How dare they?  That’s our river.

In 1992,  or thereabouts,  my oldest son,  Jay,  and I decided to spend five days of his spring break on the Edisto river.  Essentially without food,  though we did have a bag of rice,  a few oranges,  one box of granola-infused breakfast cereal and plenty of drinking water.  Jay had just read The Old Man and the Sea and was in the mood to barely survive.  I,  on the other hand,  pictured various cuts of meat wrapped in aluminum foil,  simmering on a modest wood fire.  We did it his way,  as I also recognized that the opportunity for some good father/son bonding can be scarce.  Our plan was to subsist on red-breasted bream,  a small but plentiful fish that abounds in the Edisto beginning sometime in March.  As our trip was during the last week in March,  I was much relieved.  I can now attest that one is advised to wait until April if bream is all one plans to eat.  We did catch three catfish our second morning out – our only catch of the trip.

The afternoon of our third day,  we found a jellybean at the base of a tree in a state park.  Try to understand that,  by now,  we were both quite hungry.  There remains to this day a family dispute as to who ate the jelly bean.  I maintain that I let Jay have it.  He says I ripped it from his hands.  Had the jellybean been black,  there is no doubt as to the truthfulness of my version,  but it was not.  As I recall,  it was green.  Yum.

Our transportation consisted of two very similar prototype single-seaters that never made it to production.  I had no doubt that they would be little jewels,  but the sparkle just wasn’t there,  either in stability or speed.  Fortunately,  the Edisto flows at 3-4 knots during most of the year and I did learn an important lesson:  test hull designs in a confined space BEFORE designating them as the boat of choice for an 80+ mile trip.

The bottom line is that I have a fond place in my heart for the Edisto river.  We both loved our time on the water.  And the river is beautiful and clean,  with a brown tint from the tannic acid of cypress groves.  When I became bored with names that smacked of Alaska and decided to have a go at some South Carolina rivers,  the choice was easy. This is Sunday morning after our take out on Saturday.  See how bonded we look?

We have also been deluged with questions concerning the deck supports on our newest addition.  The support decision was influenced by our recent purchase of a really cool programmable aluminum tube bender,  and the existence of some nifty hardware made to our specs for the new aluminum crossframes.

There are two peaked supports that fasten from washboard to washboard,  using the stainless bolts and star knobs that already existed for the washboard joints.  There is also a deck strut fore and aft that clips onto these supports and fastens bow and stern.  We are still high-fiving each other over the full-closure deck and skirt.  Not only is it dry and puddle-proof,  the skirt is a thing of beauty with (are you ready for this?) a diagonal suspender.  It took several mean-spirited emails to convince me that everyone did not paddle in 80-degree water.  Being in coastal SC,  I was hardly aware that large bodies of water actually dropped below 80.  We now have the message and will soon focus on revising other decks and skirts along these lines.

More stuff from the front when I feel the urge and not a minute before.

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