I mean eccentric in the best
possible way, of course, because he sailed for decades in conditions that most
of us would hate. The cold and the rain and the stormy seas of the frigid north
never bothered him.
From 1988 to 1994 he sailed his
Wayfarer from Miami to the Great Lakes in yearly hops, by way of Newfoundland and
the St. Lawrence. His book is the story of this trip, and to be frank, it’s not
a very good book unless you are fascinated by dinghy cruising and camping.
Otherwise, it’s more like a repetitious journal or ship’s log. His real thriller is Ocean Crossing Wayfarer, which will scare the wotsit out of you.
He did this later cruise mostly on
his own because his wife, Margaret, had finally had enough of crewing for him
after 25 years. In the foreword to this book, she describes those years as the “happiest
and most hellish” times of her life. But it’s the happiest memories that stay
with her.
“Luckily,
one soon forgets the terrors, hardships, and boredom of long sea passages, and
the wonderful memories remain most vivid,” she writes. “Times like flying over
the waves, deep reefed, before a Force 7 wind, sparkling sun, blue waves, white
foam, and up on the plane for many hours running along the Outer Hebrides, Wanderer going like a train.
“Times
like being enveloped in a warm deep darkness with the constellations sparkling
above our heads so bright that one could almost touch them and pick a star out
of the velvet blackness to place on Wanderer’s
decks as we lay anchored off a creek at Ras al Khymer in the Arabian Gulf
separating Arabia from Iran. The starlight patterns on the curling waves, and
the plaintive murmur of the prayer call from a far-off mosque set in the
distant sands beneath the gigantic mountain ranges, was a night never to
forget.
“Times
like Christmas Day spent in Key West, trying to sail around Florida, where we
rushed before a fierce northerly, having battled into huge, cold, breaking seas
as the gale swept in. ‘Marina Full’ said the notice as we eased Wanderer into a crack between two
enormous power boats and tied her to a palm tree whipping wildly in the rising
storm.
“An
hour later, after a rest and a hot shower, we decorated Wanderer’s tent with cards, balloons and Christmas roses
(plastic!), ate nuts, dug our Christmas cake out of wet bilges, and said that
this was the best Christmas Day we had ever known. Later, American yachtsmen
collected us and gave us flashing ‘haloes.’ We joined in the carol singing to
each yacht.”
Well, I can’t help thinking how
lucky we all are that Nature should be so kind to sailors. How convenient it is
that we should forget the terrors, hardships, and boredom that sometimes accompany
our sailing, and remember only the good times. That, not good sense or reason,
is what keeps us coming back time after time.
Today’s
Thought
But
each day brings its petty dust
Our
soon-chok’d souls to fill,
And
we forget because we must,
And
not because we will.
— Matthew Arnold, Absence
Tailpiece
“Sorry lady, bad news. I just ran
over one of your roosters in the road out there. I feel real bad about it and
I’d like to replace him.”
“Well sure, mister. If that’s what you really wish, you’ll find
the henhouse next to the barn.”
(Drop by every Monday, Wednesday,
Friday for a new Mainly about Boats column.)
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