Word: ocean
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Dates: during 1960-1969
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...water. When it slowly decays radioactively, it yields protoactinium 231 and thorium 230, both of which attach themselves to sediment particles and sink slowly to the bottom. There they in turn decay, but protoactinium 231 decays faster than thorium 230. The age of sediment on the ocean floor can therefore be determined by measuring the relative abundance of the two isotopes...
...race was a six-day nightmare of groping through fog, hunting for the flicker of a breeze, and battling howling gales of 60 knots that heeled over the big ocean racers, ripped sails, snapped rudders, and forced sailors to lash themselves to their craft. But fair weather or foul, the short, stubby yawl out of Annapolis was the master of the Atlantic, clipping off miles with the regularity of an ocean liner. When the fleet of 135 boats finished the 635-mile thrash from Newport to Bermuda last week, the overall winner, for an unprecedented third straight time, was Finisterre...
Envy & Despair. But Finisterre's glittering record is built on far more than her time allowance. The ocean was thick last week with boats that were flatteringly close copies of Finisterre's hippy lines. Finisterre's greatest asset cannot be duplicated for there is only one Carleton Mitchell, and he has gathered and trained an assortment of veteran yachtsmen into an expert crew that is the envy and despair of rival skippers...
Detail & Dedication. Generally recognized as the world's best ocean racer, Skipper Mitchell is a personable perfectionist. He demands the same rare blend of qualities in his crew: men with the sharp will to win, but with temperaments that will not snap under the stress of a race. Finisterre's crew members, whose average age is close to 50, are completely interchangeable. A crack helmsman, Mitchell always handles the starts but thinks nothing of giving up the wheel if he feels his touch is off. Chick Larkin, a plastics engineer from Buffalo, and Cory Cramer, a New Haven...
Every man aboard reflects Mitchell's devotion to detail that leads him to read ancient books about ocean currents, worry about the brand of cookies stored in the galley, and take water-temperature readings to trace the warm Gulf Stream with a thermometer graded in 100ths of a degree. No one on Finisterre would think of lounging about during off-hours; each man dons eyeshade and earplugs and hits the sack for some serious sleep. In action, the crew spots trouble so swiftly that Mitchell seldom gives an order. As easily as lowering or raising a window shade...