Provisioning

Hi everyone, or anyone for that matter! Getting ready for my Golden Jubilee cruise. Filling the lockers aboard with food, tools, clothing, spares, you name it. Trying to get the house in order for Meg so that things won't fall apart immediately when I leave. She has proven more than capable of keeping things going here. I haven't really told a lot of people I am doing this, so there will be no going away party, no fanfare. Just the way I like it. Hoping to leave sometime during this upcoming week. Yes, I know it's early, and hurricane season is nigh, but my hope is to be able to spend some time enjoying Chesapeake Bay. In other years I have been generally freezing my butt there, and under pressure to make time in a southerly direction.

Back to some remembrances of my first trip. We had pulled out of the Shelburne Shipyard on Lake Champlain with the masts on deck, and the 85 HP Perkins diesel running strong. It took us 4 days total to transit the southern part of the lake, the canal, and the Hudson River, finishing up at City Island. I had made most of this trip in the opposite direction a couple of summers earlier, helping to bring a 45' Alden ketch from Tarrytown, NY to Shelburne. This was another of my father's charter boats. So I was familiar with the river and the beauty of the area. The trip thus far on the schooner Sea Song had been uneventful and we were looking forward to restepping the masts and heading out to sea. None more so than one young man, whose name I disremember, but to whom we shall refer as "Ted". Ted was full of confidence and swagger, and was very disappointed with the work we were doing to get the boat ready for sea, which he deemed as mostly unnecessary and a waste of time. And indeed, it was mostly of a cosmetic nature, since we were enjoying a rare late November warm spell, which Captain Don wanted to make full use of. It was really only about 4 days that we spent at City Island doing that work, but Ted couldn't wait, and made it clear to everyone just how frustrated he was.

Finally, we slipped the docking lines and headed out through Hell Gate and down the East River. It is a process of several hours to negotiate the vastness of New York Harbor, but we finally headed out the Ambrose Channel and set a course southward. The change that overtook Ted was remarkable. As the sails were hoisted and the bow of the Sea Song met the incoming swell of the Atlantic, Ted developed an ashen look, vomited over the side, and retired to his bunk. This marked the end of any usefulness Ted may have had, and it left Captain Don without a watch mate. Don, incidentally, was the penultimate captain, a really great guy, and consummate sailor. Thankfully, I found myself unaffected by any hint of seasickness. If I remember correctly, we spent a couple of nights at sea and found ourselves at daybreak off the Delmarva Coast, right near the entrance to Chesapeake Bay. These were the days before good weather forecasting, but we did hear on the radio about a severe cold front that had passed through Washington DC, bringing high winds and snow, that was headed our way. Sure enough, I was at the helm, riding a flood tide over the Chesapeake Bay Bridge/Tunnel, when the front hit. We started the Perkins, dropped the sails since the wind was almost on the nose, and started pounding into some really ugly waves. They were very steep and close together, not surprising, given the opposition of wind and tide. The weather bureau was saying 7-14 feet, and I could believe it. The wind was about 40 knots.  Captain Don was exhausted, having gotten practically no sleep during the last 2 days, Ted was out of commission, and the other crew member didn't have much experience, though he was very helpful. So I was stuck steering. Eventually we made Hampton Roads and the conditions moderated. Turning the corner into Norfolk was a real relief. We pulled into the big marina there and celebrated our survival with a quiet but heartfelt thanks.

Ted had undergone something of a revival, but the result was that of a completely shattered man. He gathered up his gear quietly and without fanfare. Saying goodbye, he allowed that he was seeking a new life in Kansas, as far from the ocean as he could possibly get. He appeared to be completely serious. Nobody stood in his way as he walked down the dock, away from the salt water, and all it represented. Meanwhile, Captain Don had to return to Vermont for work, and so I was left as the owner's representative,(my father), in spite of being the youngest person aboard. Needless to say, this precipitated a collect call to my dad, and I asked him what he wanted me to do. My father was busy working in one of his other businesses and couldn't spare the time to come down, so he suggested I take the boat south, using the Intracoastal Waterway. This seemed to me like quite a stretch, given my lack of coastal experience, but I was too cowed by the old man to argue back. Then, he sweetened the pot a bit by saying he would send my mother and little sister down to help me. My mother I could see, but sis was only just 10 years old and likely to be as useful as Ted was. But I acquiesced and allowed that I would do it. Sure enough, a couple of days later they showed up, and without further ado, I headed out as a completely green 18 year old captain, on waters I was totally unfamiliar with. But at least I wasn't the youngest aboard anymore, that honor went to my sister.

To be continued.