I began my fall into degeneracy at an age when most people are strapping more tightly into their careers. I was midway through life’s journey, as Dante would say, and my hero’s quest proved not to be a passage to the underworld but a revelation of white sails billowing in the sun.
That’s how I look back on it now. When I left my newspaper career, I only knew that change needed to come or I would strangle myself with a fax cord. After bumping around in a trance for a year, I hooked a job captaining boats for the Boy Scouts. This led to a job on tall ships. And this led to stints on traditional schooners. So far, I have worked on seven, the precise number of deadly sins, and that number threatens to rise with every ring of the phone.
You all know traditional schooners, those marvelous big fore-and-aft rigged vessels that were the national commerce movers of the olden days. I sailed on big ones, 100 feet or longer, as part of that sub cadre of sailors who sail tall ships. Tall ships taught me much as crew and captain.
The Right Approach
I learned, for example, a few things about fixing mechanical problems that suddenly appear. These lessons probably count more as the philosophy of repair than concrete steps to take. They go more toward cultivating the proper attitude than grabbing the right tool.
First, even new boats will sometimes require what I call remedial repairs. These are fixes to systems that have suddenly developed problems, like the drain that clogs, the windlass that seizes or the stuffing box that starts to stream.
These are the Whac-a-Mole headaches that eat your time. Once repaired, they only restore your boat to its former full-power condition. They should be distinguished from regular maintenance and system improvements.
Provide time for these pop-up problems in your maintenance outlook. In other words, schedule the unscheduled. Provide time for the jobs that will inevitably arise.
Second, don’t rush. Maintain your serenity. I’ve often found an intractable problem to conceal two maladies or more. Rushing to solve the first overlooks the second and can make it worse.
Expect the presence of many demons where you had hoped to find one. If a problem doesn’t resolve after the first attempt, acknowledge that you are now in a relationship with it.
Third, don’t be afraid to walk away and let the issue sleep. Many times, I have approached a complex problem in the morning to find it has simplified during the night. Its knots are now easily untied and its mystery has fled. This has happened so often it’s almost supernatural.
Fourth, let other people look at it.
It’s uncomfortable to believe that a nearly random person passing by, coming new to the problem, can identify it and propose solutions.
I call it the Fresh Eyes Phenomenon, and it is not to be taken as a reflection on your abilities. It’s more as if you pushed the burden up the hill yourself but need a helper to push it over the top.
Amazing Experiences
Of course, I also took advantage of the opportunities tall ships provide.
I had to climb high on a mast in rainy weather, 60 feet, 70 feet, 80 feet, to fix the anchor light with a little screwdriver and light bulb. You go up full of hope you won’t touch live wires and become a brief and highly animated anchor light yourself.
I had the opportunity of “slushing the stays,” which involves sitting in a bosun’s chair connected to the topmast forestay and being allowed to slide slowly down it to the bowsprit – 30 yards if you make it that far – all the while lubricating the stay with petrolatum, silicone or tears.
I did this a few times and can tell you there are few things that will wake you up faster than the stunning views above the treetops on a summer morning together with the prospect of riding an acutely angled zipline to your death.
I rose, while the rest of the boat slept, from my warm berth – and there in the wind and rain, guided the vessel and all aboard her through the night, while the world turned peacefully and I wondered if my pants were on inside out.
Yes, these are the happy times you will have working on a schooner. These are the sights you will see, and these are the friends you will meet and share space near and perhaps have children with. I made it through schooner life, and I’m now a Grand Old Man of the waters, and entitled to wear dry clothes. n