I’m not excited about walking Katie. It’s hot. I don’t do well in heat. I think about black flag days, terminology the military uses to indicate people are at risk for heat exhaustion.
Someone told Pete it’s ten degrees hotter than it should be this time of year. Fortunately, there’s a stiff, cooling, southwestern breeze. I lace up.
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The wind comes from a semi-permanent climate feature offshore known as the Bermuda High. It’s an important thing, this high. It helps to steer hurricanes farther east or west, depending on where it sits when a storm is coming.
The Bermuda High wanders back and forth across the Atlantic at varying strengths based on factors that similarly affect the entire globe’s weather: jet stream location, ocean temperatures, upper atmospheric conditions and the like.
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On the way to Dutchman’s Park, I notice flags snapping on buildings and boats. A flag’s angle from its pole divided by four estimates wind speed. They’re flying at a sharp 80 degrees today, a 20 mph wind. It’s one way to read flags and weather.
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Katie couldn’t be happier. The park has lawns and beaches. Another dog named Dorsey has her own ball though she’s resting under a piece of driftwood where it’s cool while her manservant fishes for croaker.
At the park, Katie runs and swims. Pete throws the ball. I dodge little crabs.
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Irish Hurricane flies the national ensign, a term for a flag on a vessel indicating nationality. When we visit Canada, we fly the Canadian flag as a courtesy, a nod to their sovereignty. A way to show respect.
We also fly the AGLCA gold burgee to show we’ve completed the Loop. A burgee is a swallow-tailed flag about identity. A lot of burgees are only recognized by a few– yacht club flags, for instance.
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Generally, the highest flag flown takes precedence. It’s bad form to fly anything above an American flag. If you’re an American.
One boat I saw this morning flew three flags. The top one looked like the U.S. Secretary of the Navy flag, blue with a white fouled anchor and four stars. I doubt whether SECNAV was aboard this boat. Would he run the Navy from Southport, North Carolina?
I didn’t recognize the middle flag, faded red with a logo, maybe a sports team. The bottom is universally recognized. Black with white skull and crossbones. The Jolly Roger.
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We passed by flags either left over from a Cinco de Mayo bash or being used as Tibetan prayer flags. The former stand for hope, independence, unity, and the blood of Mexican heroes.
The latter represent compassion, peace, wisdom, and strength. Tibetans believe the wind carries words written on their flags to the benefit of all people.
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I saw a makeshift flag on beach debris I imagine landed on the riverbank after a flood or a hurricane set it free.
A storm warning flag is square red with a center black square. Two together mean a hurricane is coming. NOAA stopped raising hurricane flags after the rise of TV and radio broadcasts, though you can still see them flying in some places. Like bridge clearance boards, they’re low-tech.
Crosby, Stills & Nash sing, I have my ship, and all her flags are flying. Back aboard IH, I see ours are, too.
Now, Katie’s worn out and drying in the sun after being rinsed of salt and sand. Pete and I are inside the boat enjoying the a/c. A trawler just docked next to us. They’re flying an AGLCA white burgee.
I plan to stop by later, to say hello. I can see by their flag that they’re one of our own.
Irish Hurricane 