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| June 09, 2010 Post 49 |
| Susan Goes To Sea |
Unicorn at public dock Rockland ME |
My first reaction upon viewing Captain Rachael, the two mates Nissa and Emily and the half dozen deck hands mostly college aged was Yikes these are kids! Guess that's an indicator that I have achieved crone status.
some of the crew left to right Taber, Julie, Sara, Megan ( the bosun) and <br>Hannah (the cook) |
We departed the Rockland Maine public pier on a summer like bright blue day with light winds and motored out of Penobscot Bay dodging many lobster buoys. In the afternoon a southwest wind came filtering in and gradually built. The crew climbed aloft to cast off the lashings on the two square sails ( called “courses” by those in the know). As a paying passenger, I was allowed to opt out of going aloft which i did. But I was expected to pull and haul and stand a watch. As this process of helping work the ship is pretty essential to understanding ( and hopefully selling a story about) the program, I pitched in. And it would have been pretty boring on such a small ship, not to join forces with the crew and just sit around for five days.
As the sun lowered and colored up a sky of high cloud behind us, Captain Rachael called us together on the quarter deck and set the watches. Three groups of four each would trim sail, steer, stand lookout, navigate and keep a rough log, and do periodic checks around the ship. One check every half hour was a visit to the engine room to monitor batteries, bilge water levels, and, if it was running, the vital signs of the big yellow Cat down in the bilges. At 10 pm I joined Meagan, Leslie and watch chief mate Emily for my first watch. The waning moon had just risen and was peeping through a crack in the clouds and the southwest wind had picked up to a good 20 to 25 or so rolling up a bit of a swell on the quar
setting sail |
Captain Rachael had prudently shortened sail at dusk anticipating the forecasted increase in wind. I was offered the wheel and found when under sail on a broad reach, it was possible to more or less keep the Unicorn going in a straight line. We hit 7.5 which Megan told me was the best speed of the night. We even heeled a bit. The moon laid a swath of splintered silver down upon the water, clouds came and went and we were now far beyond the lobster buoys. Amazingly it wasn't even too cold. Yet. It was grand sailing, the high point of the trip. We were nearing the International boundary that runs down the middle of Fundy when I went to my bunk at 2 am.
I awoke ready for breakfast and climbed the stairs to the galley area. Outside the sky and sea were gray with a light rain and mist and the now very raw wind had kicked up a four to six foot swell. This was beginning to look and feel like the Gulf of Maine I remembered from my student voyage on the Albatross IV some 35 years ago. Memories of that trip cascaded as I sat down for coffee. How strange I thought. I was about the age then that these kids here are today on Unicorn. Breakfast was sparsely attended. Lunch was even quieter. I nibbled then on a carrot stick and crackers in solitude before heading on deck for the noon to six watch. I had my long winter underwear on along with three shirts and my rain gear but the brisk wind cut with a penetrating damp chill through it all. I had also elected not to pack my sea boots in the interest of keeping the weight of my luggage down. Should have brought them... I was quick to take up the offer of steering again inside the wheel house where I and my vulnerable feet were sheltered from the wind and driz
coast of Nova Scotia near Mahone Bay |
We were now motor sailing under strapped in fore and main and power, short tacking down the coast of Nova Scotia to make the turn at Cape and head up toward Halifax. The ship butted into the waves making five and I found myself remembering our crossing back to New York from Main Duck with Toby and Chris and me on Sara B slogging along at 2 knots with that old 16 horse engine in the rain and mist and lumps and nervously watching the bilge pump. My two Unicorn watch mates were adament that they did not want to take the wheel from me. The very thought of watching the dancing numbers on the GPS while steering a compass course was enough to send them to the rail. So I stayed dry and snug. The Mate spent a good deal of time below in the main salon navigating as visibility was nil and we had to thread our way between and past a couple of outlying shoals and the mainla
pilot boat alongside |
A wan miserable young cook managed to put together a welcome flavorful hot dinner of chili. I ate alone and went to bed. That night we shortened sail taking in a second reef in the main and one in the fore as the wind piped up. We were still motor sailing and lumped and rolled along through the night as the cold gnawed away at us all. No one wanted to do the engine room checks due to noise and diesel smell so I was delighted to descend into the engine room. It was warm and cozy and I dawdled and examined everything closely. The ship had an interesting chain driven generator that ran off the free wheeling shaft when she was sailing. She also had two diesel driven generators, a pony engine to start the big six cylinder Cat if the batteries ever failed, and an array of pumps and plumbing of incomprehensible complexity. She looked like a real ship with lots of systems (not all of which were functioning while at sea.) My watch captain was also an overseer of the engine room and later in the trip the crew had to trouble shoot the big generator when it failed to start for powering the hydraulic anchor windle
enjoying the sun |
When dawn's first glimmer paled the sky ahead of us my watch mates, sea sick Leslie and Megan, perked up. The swell had flattened and I delighted in the early morning shearwaters that skimmed the sea around us like miniature albatrosses. I also saw gannets and one dark bird slightly smaller but similar to the greater shearwaters. I never saw a puffin on the trip, but others reported seeing them in breeding plumage. The fog lifted and the distant shore of Nova Sotia lay off to port. We'd made it!
That day the sun shone upon the Unicorn and sea sickness vanished. The resilient young crew bounced back and we had a gentle run up the shore to Mahone Bay and a peaceful night there at anchor within sight of Tancook Island, Sara B's ancestral home. The run up the coast that day was absolutely beautiful.The rest of the trip consisted of motoring as the ship had it's schedule to keep. Much of the time we were in fog. As we neared Halifax the pilot boat came along side and the harbor pilot and another fellow stepped over the rail. Some one called out a humorous warning up forward to her shipmates 'men on board!'. As the Unicorn steamed up into Halifax the fog lifted like a stage curtain to reveal the grand harbor of this historic old Canadian port once used by the French and others as a harbor of refuge and fishing stopover way back in Champlain's
German tall ship docked next to Unicorn |
There is something special about coming into a great and storied harbor by sea. One feels anticipation and excitement viewing the city- all sorts of possibilities appear before you. Your settled small routine world aboard ship at sea is about to give way to the complexity energy and bustle of the big city. It is quite the rush. Beside me 18 year old Taber skipped about chanting 'Halifax' Halifax” and we were all grinning and feeling proud of ourselves. It is great fun to come in to a new and unknown land aboard your tall ship.
By the end of this brief five day cruise and single 24 hour passage the three passengers had bonded with the young deckhands. We were treated as peers and we laughed and drank and ate together as a crew. Why did I go asked my sister-in-law at her dinner table two days later. I suppose it was in part to see how this crew-community- team building thing works. I, who single handed my own little ship-lette for so many years and then who sailed a yacht with a husband was curious about the building of a ship board community. I think I also wanted to use Unicorn and the Gulf of Maine as a bench mark of sorts to see how I myself had changed since May of 1975 when I last ventured upon its cold gray foggy waters. And I was curious to see if I could survive without Chris for five days. Could I still make my way alone through an airport or find my way unassisted to the train station? (It turned out I didn't even have to do that. Passenger Amy, athletic and strong, insisted on going with me and carrying my sea bag). Perhaps that gesture along with the impromptu “birthday” cake they served me shows how the bonding thing did happen. For a skeptical life long single it was an eyeopener. I was pleased that I survived without Chris for five days, but it sure was good to put my arms around him at my brother's place Sunday afternoon. I ran away to sea but I came back to a good and dear husband and home.