Perfectly Incomplete

31 May 2019

Daddy Cate’s Coffees

Downtown, Brunswick, GA

 

 

There is a romance inherent in sailing. A romance that evokes images of great ships, with even greater men balancing high-up in the rigging – plying the tradewinds under full sail or the schooners gliding along the shoreline with their elicit cargos of rum stealthy ghosting beyond the watchful eyes of the authorities. It is the nostalgia of being in Nassau harbor knowing that Sterling Hayden’s Wanderer swung on her hook in those same waters, or, while throwing a coconut for Ziggy to fetch, seeing Albion’s little mast standing above the trees and scrubbrush of a beach encircling a secluded cove in the Exumas conjuring images reminiscent of the pirate ship masts appearing behind the concealment of island cliffs as described by Robert Louis Stevenson.  Perhaps it is, as Jimmy Buffett sang in A Pirate Looks at Forty, that, “…yes I am a pirate, 200 years too late, occupational hazard being, my occupation’s just not around.”

The ballads, such as A Pirate Looks at Forty, not the party anthems or tiki bar tunes, are the songs of the Cruiser, the Traveler, the Wander who, as Sterling Hayden so eloquently described, “…cannot, or will not, fit in.” These are anthems for those who are venturing out to sea seeking something greater than drinking a cheap beer on their Sea Ray each Friday night or sipping wine and picking at a charcuterie board during an evening sunset sail on Sunday. Though the water calls to each in its own way, it is the call of the open ocean, the call to traverse the same seaways which have consumed the thoughts of so many, to the depths which hold the dreams of both those who have suppressed their dreams and never took the risk to venture out and those who took the leap, those who refused to succumb to the illusion of security and safety imposed by conforming to or abiding by routine. “Wanderers” they have been called – viewed with curiosity, confusion, and derision. Seen as having been lured or conned into seeking something that only exists in the lyrics of jukebox favorites or Hollywood’s vaults.

“So it is no wonder that the mass of people regard the wanderer as a cross between a romantic vagabond and an irresponsible semi-ne’er-do-  well who can’t—or won’t—fit in. Which is not to say that those who are fated to stay at home and toe the line do not look at the wanderer with envy and, yes, even awe, for he is doing what they would like to be doing, and something tells them they will never do it unless they either ‘strike it rich’ or retire—and once retirement rolls around, chances are it will be too late. They know that too.”[i]

The sea – and bye sea I mean both the idea and physical bodies of water, has always been the realm of the dreamer, the wanderer, those seeking something greater than that which can be obtained through plodding along amongst “normal” society. One can achieve that which is viewed, in the “normal” course of life as great success – be it financial, a white picket fence, 2.5 kids, a German auto, an apartment high enough in the sky to induce vertigo – yet still be seeking that which only the sea can offer – adventure, excitement, freedom, and challenges. Sterling Hayden and Gardner McKay both eschewed the glitz and glamour of Hollywood, Bernard Moitessier chose to forgo the potential fame and wealth that awaited when finishing the Golden Globe Race, and though on a lesser scale, I followed their lead – walking away from a career as a CPA in public accounting, trading a steady and comfortable paycheck in a secure profession for a journey – if only temporary – into a life totally foreign to that which I had become accustomed. A life that can only be defined as one necessarily incompatible to routine and security. A life that requires planning, yet accepting – and even embracing, the unplanned, the adversity and circumstances which result in opportunities one would not be able to experience had strict conformity to a “plan” been pursued. After all, “…wandering is an art in itself.”[ii]

 

“Wandering” as it is called, is not an aimless pursuit of pleasure, or a negligent escape from “reality.” Rather, it is the pursuit of what can be had only when venturing beyond the “day to day,” – the conditions which thrust one into circumstances where their self-reliance, stamina, mental fortitude, and even potentially faith are tested. Only through “wandering” can one find their true abilities, how “deep” one can dig within to resolve whatever adverse situation may arise and get into port safely.

I chose to pursue the “Great Loop” – a circumnavigation of the eastern United States by way of the Great Lakes, inland rivers, Gulf Coast, Intracoastal Waterways, and inland waterways – as my means to “wander” in part because it was a complete loop, having a start and finish, and thereby demonstrably not simply an “aimless” pursuit of trying to recreate my own “Adventures in Paradise.” A factor appealing to a starchy accountant. The route includes the rivers running through the heart of the United States – fast, dirty, riddled with debris – an environment hostile to a small sailboat, additional support to this journey being more than an escape to warmer climates and “changes in latitudes.” The plan was to start this voyage in Albion’s home port of Pentwater, Michigan and “cross our wake” through those same pier heads roughly a year later. Hardly an original plan – one that, in some form or another, has been done by thousands, including small sailboats captained by those with far less sailing experience than I have. In an effort to make our journey somewhat unique and take advantage of proximity, it was the plan to sail to Cuba and perhaps the Bahamas if time and conditions allowed. However, as is often the case, reality has not always followed the plan.

It is the reality of constant departures from “the plan” – some forced upon us by circumstances outside our control and others optional – that has Ziggy and I in the situation where we now find ourselves, a “decision point,” a spot where it may be necessary to accept that the “goal” as originally planned may not pan-out, yet embracing the current reality and realizing that where we are is the product of opportunities we never could have dreamed when sitting at my desk staring at the HVAC units outside my office over a year ago. Opportunities that would have been missed where we blindly committed to following a plan.

Had I been asked when initially planning this voyage, or even three weeks ago, where I anticipated being on May 31, 2019, it is safe to say, a coffee shop in Brunswick, Georgia, would not have been my reply. I am here though, sitting with Ziggy on my lap, because of departures from the plan. Here, in Georgia, further south than our “fellow Loopers” – far enough south that it is impractical to try to make the trek back to Pentwater before Lake Michigan turns “mean” for the season. Even if we were to try, and really push North, it would be just that, a “push” – not enjoying and experiencing the points along the way – the towns, history, and nature through which Ziggy and I would travel. A pursuit simply for the purpose of crossing a finish line and earning a gold AGLCA flag, a tangible symbol of our accomplishment. A symbol that would enshrine me in the ranks of other “Gold Loopers,” but a group with whom I have found myself less and less identifiable over the course of our travels. To the “Loopers” we have been a bit of an oddity – a single 31 year old with a dog in a small slow sailboat, a boat too slow to travel each day from one marina to another, requiring us to do that totally foreign activity of anchoring out many nights, and when in a marina, arriving too late in the evening to participate in “docktails.” From that first invite to “docktails” up in St. Joseph Michigan when the “Loopers” were discussing how it is only dog owners who have dinghies and why would anyone bring a dog on this trip, it should have been clearly evident that, my journey (with a dog none the less) would not be understood by most of those who fly the AGLCA flag. Though we may not have been accepted or understood by the majority of that group, we found that the “cruisers” – those traversing the same waterways yet heading to the Caribbean or other distant shores, accepted us and embraced us for who we were. We were not simply traveling in a circle, we were seeking that “greater” call of the sea. The call that can only be answered by getting out onto open water, travelling off shore – beyond the buoyed channels – by taking routes that called for overnight passages, setting course for destinations not covered in “Honey Let’s Get a Boat.” Rather than spending each night in a slip with shore power and a standing invitation for cocktails on the dock, we were, on most evenings, anchored. It was these anchorages, from secluded river oxbows whose pitch black nighttime skies showcased a canvas of stars and the Milky Way with fog encasing us each morning or the cerulean waters of Bahamian island bays that, more than marina happy hours, cultivated the friendships and fellowship that developed along the way. When distant from the resources of a boatyard or city, one becomes dependent on their own resources and those of their fellow cruisers, be it dinghying Geluk’s dogs to shore when their Torquido outboard failed, obtaining advice on a leaking raw water pump from Tom at the convergence of the Misissippi and Ohio Rivers, or tearing down a carburetor in Bimini – this symbiotic dependence forged strong bonds that have carried throughout our journey.

 

 

In part, it is this disassociation which is responsible for my feeling totally comfortable, and in no way as having failed or fallen short, by not completing the full circle. It is the realization that, adverse situations have risen to opportunities that, when looking back, will have far greater significance and meaning. Two faulty refrigeration units led to Albion spending extra days at Torresen’s during her pre-departure refit, but it was this delay which caused our paths to cross with Tom and Cindy of Livin’ the Dream who have been our traveling companions for nine months and who, will be, hopefully, life-long friends – a couple who Ziggy and I have truly grown to love. Our Cuban paperwork not being processed timely enabled spending over a month in Key West were we became, even for a short time, part of the “local” community and being able, or so we thought, to cross to the Bahamas with Livin’ the Dream.  A broken bleeding screw resulted in our being “stuck” in John Pennekamp State Park for weeks waiting on a replacement, as well as having to see Livin’ the Dream cross to the Bahamas without us – a truly low point in the whole journey. (See prior posts dedicated to that experience) Yet, it was while delayed in Pennekamp that our friendship with Tim and Candy of Ohana was formed as he helped me tear apart my carburetor, made the best of being stuck by snorkeling and diving the reefs of Key Largo, and eventually crossed to the Bahamas, and island hopped, together. It was also while being stuck there that Phil of Pappilon joined the little community of cruisers awaiting a weather window in Pennecamp, with his Maryland registered dingy which sparked our initial conversation. After he crossed to Bimini with Ohana and me, we periodically saw each other through the Bahamas and both attended Ohana’s departure to Grenada dinner at anchor in Georgetown, where the conversation continued and it was mentioned that Phil would be sailing Pappilon with the ARC Europe rally to Portugal. As, has been the name of the game, though Georgetown in the Exumas was going to be the place where our inevitable goodbye with Livin’ the Dream was anticipated to occur, their plans changed which resulted in their premature departure from the Bahamas – enabling Ziggy and I to cruise back to the United States with them, and in a speedy fashion. It was our marathon rush out of the Bahamas, forgoing some locations we greatly desired to see, that enabled me, when receiving the email from Phil asking if I wanted to crew Papillon from Nassau to Bermuda, to the Azores, then to Portugal, that I was able to say “yes” and work out the logistics of getting Albion to Brunswick, Georgia in only a matter of days, where she could remain safely nestled in a slip under the watchful eyes of Tom and Cindy while I crossed the Atlantic. That was the plan anyway.

 

As Captain Ron said, “If anything’s gonna happen, it’s gonna happen out there” – and happen out there it did. In a passage deserving of its own post, suffice it to say, numerous gear failures and the blowing out of the mainsail, resulted in Pappilon remaining in Bermuda awaiting new running rigging and sails, a departure from the plan that meant no Sailor Jerry anchor tattoo for me, but a passage full of lessons in crisis management, a crash course in celestial navigation, 950 offshore miles to add to the log book, and two weeks in Bermuda – the latter which would not have been possible were we to stick to the ARC schedule to Portugal. Those two weeks are weeks that will forever be remembered, a time of completing projects aboard the boat as well as exploration of a “bucket list” island destination. Magical memories and, hopefully, continuing friendships born out of what was described as the best “disaster trip” ever. A departure from plan that I certainly wouldn’t trade.

 

 

The trip to Bermuda, more than any other single departure from the plan, is what cemented the reality that it is most likely not realistic to complete our planned Loop – it just doesn’t make sense to rush through some of the most beautiful portions of the journey simply to complete the circle only to turn around and load Albion onto a truck back out to Maryland. Rather, our journey will be an extended “delivery” to Annapolis. Just as the Atlantic will still be there to cross in the future, the Hudson River, Trent Severne, and North Channel will be there too, but the opportunity to travel and explore with friends, is finite. As far as returning to the beautiful towns of Northern Michigan which I have, over the course of this trip, only grown to appreciate more, I guess that makes for a good excuse to log some additional miles on the family boat Admiralty and bring her back up to the cold clear fresh water and quaint towns of Northern Michigan. Who knows what adventures lie ahead on the remaining miles of our journey. Here, we’ll say goodbye to Livin’ the Dream, it will tear us apart to pull out of the dock knowing that Livin’ the Dream will never again give us a “slow pass” and cruise on ahead of us to another anchorage. Ziggy and I will be solo going forward, having to depend on our own resources and tackle whatever challenges ensue, but we will continue on knowing that there are deep bonds we have woven over the course of our travels that cannot be broken simply by distance. In some ways, it is sad knowing that the “highlight” reel is behind us – what lies ahead is hundreds of miles of caramel colored ditch riddled with shoaling and currents until we return to the Chesapeake, but just as we made the best of sticky quick sand-like mud banks along the rivers, we’ll make the best of the final legs and appreciate the opportunity we have to be “out there” living our dream. We may meet new cruisers along the way, be joined by friends, or by ourselves until greeted upon returning to Annapolis by family and friends, but we will never be alone. We’ve answered Mother Ocean’s call, in ways we could never have imagined, in ways made possible by departures from the plan, and though the romantic portions lie in our wake, we will venture on with the memories of “just a few friends”[iii] as we pursue our dream of having “wanted to sail upon her waters since I was three feet tall.”[iv] Moitessier, when faced with the decision point, departed from “the plan,” continuing on toward Tahiti rather than completing the Golden Globe to “save his soul”[v]– a decision point to which mine pales in comparison, yet, it is the reality that a nearly lifelong dream will not be seen to fruition, at least not yet, but a reality in which I have accepted and embraced, a reality rooted in excitement for the far greater opportunities which necessitated this departure from “the plan,” reality that, we still have hundreds of miles to “wander,” that, we’re not done yet…

 

 

 

 

In no way professor approved footnotes, only there to inform the reader of the source for each quote:

[i] Sterling Hayden, Wanderer

[ii] Sterling Hayden, Wanderer

[iii] Jimmy Buffett, A pirate Looks at Forty (Song)

[iv] Jimmy Buffett, A pirate Looks at Forty (Song)

[v] Bernard Moitessier, The Long Way