Today's upload begins with an admission. Nothing scandalous, merely neglect of the need for thoroughgoing investigation of all available evidence before opening mouth and inserting foot.
In my description of Karleen I asserted that she was currently rudderless. I explained also that I was a convicted landlubber (that was it, wasn't it?) with inadequate understanding of cobles and things. So in my imagination a rudder is a vast carved plank of hardwood descending from just above the waterline to the very bottom of the keel, its function governed by a weathered tar heaving at the wheel or at very least by a craggy, bearded and sou'westered fisherman leaning on the massive tiller and fighting for his life against the gale.
Karleen has a weeny little propeller at the bottom of the keel, and behind the propeller is an even weenier rudder, about the size of a tablespoon. Thus perishes all Romantic Fiction.
This is a picture of Karleen's starboard side. She is missing a few chunks of bodywork as well as the weathered tar and the craggy, bearded and sou'westered fisherman.
75mm, 1/125th sec @ f18, ISO 200