Once upon a time there lived a man called Skipper Ron, who sailed the seven seas in Ockham’s Racer along with a crew of merry men (and women). Now Skipper Ron and his merry men (and women) found themselves in a race around an island. Being a fast boat, Ockham’s Racer was up there with the big boys and now Ron had a problem. You see, Ron noticed all the other boats were bigger. And the bigger boats wouldn’t let little Ockham’s Racer play.
“Get back”, they would say “ you shouldn’t be up here with us, we’re supposed to be faster than you”. But pass them Ockham’s did with a laugh as they left the big boats in their wake.
Over the summer Ron mulled over this problem with his merry men (and women).
“Don’t worry Ron”, said one, “we can make your boat bigger. Why, all we need to do is to get it to grow.”
And so Ron and his merry men (and women) set to work to make the boat grow bigger. First they hauled the boat out of the water and placed it in a huge workshop. Next the merry men (and women) went to work to divert the power from the neighbours to power the grow lights.
For the next year, little of Ron was seen as the boat under went its transformation. The neighbours wondered about their high hydro bills, but never suspected the goings on next door. “Ron seemed such a respectable man; always well dressed in a white shirt, jeans and a red jacket”, said the neighbours.
As the year passed, things started to change on young Ockham’s Racer. First her mast grew and grew and grew. Her hull stretched forward and widened at the hips. Her keel sank down and down and down. And the hull – no longer an ivory white, but a deep mean red.
Ron jumped for joy at the sight of the boat. The merrymen (and women) were equally excited. “Look at the mast, it’s big and black; now there’s no going back” screamed April. No longer little Ockham’s Racer, but now, completely transformed into the mighty Kairos, he with the forward ponytail.
In the dead of night, not to arouse suspicion, Ron and his merry men (and women) hauled Kairos back into the water. And there she sat, looking like a mean racing machine. A big black mast thrusting upward 65 feet and a keel hanging heavy 8 feet below. A beam of 13 feet and enough sails to wrap the baby Ockham’s Racer thrice over. And so Ron and the merry men (and women) rejoiced well into the wee ours of the afternoon by drinking Single Malt scotch and discussing the deeper meaning of the boat’s name – Kairos.
And so that is the true story of how Kairos came to be and why nobody has ever seen nor heard of Ockham’s Racer since. Oh, yes, there are some who swear they’ve seen the boat out there it he dead of night. Ripping along passing Redshift when they least expect, but those are the rambling of disillusioned men (and women) of the sea. Ron himself will tell a tall story of selling Ockham’s and buying a new boat from the mythical east. He’ll tell of sailing the Atlantic, the Bras d’Or lake, the St. Lawrence and of storms so big, waves forced the boat back to port, of taking refuge from hurricane Beryl and of trailering over the mountains to the west. But don’t believe them for they are fairy tales told to amuse over a bottle of scotch. For this is the only and true story of how Kairos came to be. With a big red hull and a tall long slender black mast of 65 feet and enough sails to wrap Ockham’s Racer thrice over.
