The Tao of Walking Ridge

Saturday I had no duties early, so I was able to walk into town and have breakfast.  There I learned my very good friend was leaving the ship when we returned.  His girlfriend and I had a nice breakfast, and I was honored to be among the first to know of the decision he had reached after discussing it with her.  At the time, this seemed a bit shocking to me.  I’ve since learned that boats have a very high turnover rate.  Still, it hit home to me, as one of my best friends among the crew and one of the best sailors aboard the boat was leaving.

When I say one of the best sailors aboard, I reference a time when I was at the wheel.  The boat was a bit of a struggle to keep on course and the wind was behind my right shoulder.  I knew the significance of letting the wind come over my left shoulder (booms and sails violently cross the ship, “gybing”.  If people don’t get hurt, gear will).  As I focused intently, my buddy Topher climbed out of the cabin house waking up from a nap.  He looked up.  Looked at the wheel.  Looked up.  Looked at the wheel.  There was a line on the wheel’s shaft that indicated how many turns from neutral or straight I was.  I was about 2 1/2 turns, but trying to go straight.  Topher walked foward, let out the mainsail, and I took two of the turns out of the wheel by the time he walked back.  As he walked pass to go down below and get coffee he said “that better?”.  It is then that I realized how aware he was of everything on a ship.  How he thought ahead, and how he thought about others.  I’ve since had the chance to crew with him as captain of another vessel.  He is a captain that I’ve never thought twice about sailing with into any conditions.

When I returned to the boat, the stereo was playing the new Johnny Cash CD.  I recall a line something like “There’s a man, on a horse, taking names……….”  It was followed by another Johnny Cash CD.  The sailors took their music very seriously, and while at breakfast they learned of the passing of Johnny Cash.  I think we had four or five of his CDs aboard, and Johnny Cash was played exclusively for the rest of the day.

In early afternoon we did a day sail for a private party. These were people well known in Mackinac, and many were VIPs. The weather was the best ever for many on the boat. A steady breeze, low chop, we had the boat doing tens knots as I recall. Perhaps more. The boat was heeled over a little and spray was blowing down the deck, but it was a comfortable ride.  It was my best ride on this boat, and one of the best I’ve ever been on.

I can still picture an elderly gentleman who was clearly enjoying the ride. He walked forward to the bow, and slipped while returning. Alarmed, a couple of the crew rushed to help him up. He was fine, and judging by the grin on his face (since he was none the worse for wear) enjoyed the adventure all the more.

AFter the sail, the GM of the ship, his wife, and a crewman were going to play golf at the Wawashkamo golf club at the top of the island. I had not played in a couple of years, but joined them. I think we were able to get in the 9 holes before dark. It is a traditional links course, with deep heather. Built in 1898, it is a course built before the long holes of today. I have no idea what my score was, but I have never enjoyed a round of golf as much as this. For pure enjoyment of the course, and the game, this was at the top of the list.

We arrived at the island today. The boat has so much mystique. All that wood. The size. The presence. The history. Everyone on Mackinac Island knew we landed. There was a crowd gathered on the dock to watch us land. I had dreamt of sailing tall ships as a youth, and now I was living the dream.

I became aware of how much this fascinated others when I was walking downtown in jeans and a flannel shirt. Perhaps it was my pony tail, but a gentleman stepped up to me and said “Aren’t you a sailor on the Highlander Sea?” I nodded, a bit surprised that anyone would notice this far from the ship. We proceeded to talk for 20 minutes or so about what it was like. It was like being a rock star. They couldn’t imagine what it was like, how we handled the physical demands, avoided sea sickness, etc. I didn’t know how I could handle the physical demands (of course when I couldn’t, the paid crew would be there).

The pace of sailing suits me. Bursts of strength, with long long periods of moderate effort in between. Very little total rest when on deck. Standing burns energy. The cold burns energy. The boat is always moving. It is draining, but it is mostly mental. I can do it for hours, and after a good nights sleep I feel revitalized. The smell of the water, the feel of the breeze. That’s living.

Padding into a local drink establishment, I come upon three members of the crew. I used to think musicians drank. Musicians are beginners compared to schooner sailors. They never drink before duty, but when off duty musician’s aren’t even in the same league. While I was having a glass of wine, the barkeep said “OK, after this, it’s on you.” Which is when we all learned that since the barkeep recognized all of us as being from the schooner, any drinks to that point were on the house. At which point the other crew realized the dollars in their pocket would go much further than they had planned on. The next day would be a rough one for them.

I walked up tot he French Quarters for a milder crowd. I nursed another glass of wine for about a half hour when a fellow moved over beside me and asked if I minded some conversation. I shook my head. He said “You just radiate peace.” The boat had worked its magic. Three days of sailing, and all is fine with the world. Complete calm and peace. So much so that strangers could sense it.

My first night shift was the 2:00 am to 6:00 am shift. It was very hard to stay awake. It was also very cold. The weather was in the mid fifties, but with wind and the body wanting to sleep, there weren’t enough layers. I was dressed like it was winter, and was just comfortable.

I had sailed sloops, but sailing a schooner of this size was totally overwhelming.
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If I had had blog software in 2003, I would have done this real time. But, instead, I’ll write entries as I remember them from one of the best vacations I ever took.

I remember arriving early in the morning, at what I thought was on time. I’d been told by a mate when I booked the trip that the boat wouldn’t leave for a while, and the berths were already assigned, so no need to be early. When I arrived, the mate was nowhere to be seen (he had since left the boat) and the boat was getting ready to leave. Lesson number one of the schooner sailing handbook. Be early, be flexible.
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