My first sail
Sunday, July 9th, afternoon
We had breakfast at 8AM, with oatmeal with flax seeds, walnuts, cranberries
and apricots. It was very clear to me that I'd be eating better over
the next two weeks than I eat at home.
I rooted through the ships supply of "funny clothes" aka "funnies" until I found some stuff that sort of fit.
Dockside tours began at 10AM.
At 1PM, we kicked the public out and ate lunch. Then at 2PM, we took on passengers for a three hour sail ("...a three hour tour..."). This was my first sail as a crewmember, though I'd been a passenger on three sails before this, staring up in awe and fascination at the topmen in the rigging.
Rob, the First Mate, ordered me to "shadow" Esther for my first sail. First thing she did is
help me find a safety harness: basic rock climbing gear for going aloft.
She then led me up the shrouds on the starboard side to the forecourse yard,
the lowest yard on the front mast. We go up the starboard side whenever we
are in port, so that if we fall, we fall into the water, rather than the
dock.
I was nervous at two points: First, when the lowest set of shrouds comes
into the mast, there is a platform. There's a set of inverted shrouds at
that point, leading over the lip of the platform.
I got very nervous trying
to climb over that lip, as my left shoulder was still hurting and I didn't
trust it. Every time I had to let go with my right hand, I thought I would
fall. Yet, my shoulder didn't let me down at all. The next point I got
nervous was inching out the footropes over the yard.
Esther went out first
and took the far end of the yard, letting me work close to the mast, where I
could keep one foot back on the shrouds. The gaskets get untied before
leaving port, so the sail is ready to be raised and lowered. I was very
glad to get down.
(This photo was taken a few days later, when I was a bit braver)
Our passengers came on board, and Beth greeted them and gave the whole
safety speach, introduced the crew, and talked about what we would be doing.
We went out into the Strait of Juan de Fuca for an hour and a half and then
turned around to come back. The first mate called sail when it was time to
tack: "Rise tacks and sheets!" Esther coached me on what lines to pull
when, and tried to describe what we were actually doing.
After the first time we tacked, with the entire crew running around the deck and the passengers watching in fascination, the steward called out, "And that, Ladies and Gentlemen, was how they did it over FIFTY YEARS AGO!"
To which the crew replied, "NO! Surely not! No one was alive back then!"
The wind kept coming up the entire time we were out. It started out at about 15 knots,
and by the time we were halfway back to the dock, it was 30 knots, and the
spray from the waves was breaking over the bow and soaking the passengers
and crew. We took in sail repeatedly on the way back, and finally the mate
called, "Hands aloft to furl the sails!" Esther led me back up the shrouds.
This time, we were needed even higher, and we climbed to the topyard, about
35 feet off the deck. The boat rocked like a tub, and there we were,
leaning over the yard, pulling the sail up with our wet hands, while
balancing on the slack footropes. Esther patiently explained to me how to
gather up the loose, flapping sail, fold it, and wrap and tie the gasket,
and all the while, I am doing my best to control utter panic. Mercifully,
she sent me down after one or two gaskets, and once again took the ones out
at the end of the yard. My thought as my feet touched the deck was, "I'm
alive!" At about that same time, a flapping block hit Beth in the head as
she climbed the main mast rigging. I watched as the topmen on the t'gallant (the highest and
tiniest yard, about 60 feet off the deck) struggled with their gaskets,
while the yard swung back and forth in relation to the mast.
We got back to the dock about 45 minutes late, because we ended up slowly
motoring upwind. The captain addressed the passengers, apologized for the
late arrival, and went on to say, "If you had fun today, please tell your
friends. If you didn't, well, nobody likes a bummer story." That got a
laugh. "I will be placing my hat at the bottom of the ramp. If you would
like to contribute to the Sailor's Retirement Fund, you may place whatever
you feel called to give into the hat. Some of our volunteer crew will be
retiring to the laundromat tonight, some to the ice cream parlor, and some
to various other establishments on shore."
That night at muster, the captain reminded us to take
the slack out of the braces when we lower the yards, so the yards don't swing so
much while we're trying to furl sails. We talked about Beth getting smacked in the head. We also got a new crewmember, Tara, 20 years old college freshman,
making me no longer the junior-most crewmember. She became our second cook, giving Sprite a chance to do other things, like painting and tarring the rigging.
The Red Lion Inn next to the dock donated a hotel room to us, so we all had
the opportunity to shower and laze around watching TV. I walked to the room
with Esther and got to know her a little.
"So how long have you been crewing the Lady Washington?"
"Off and on for seven years."
"Really, so were you on the crew that went to the Caribbean for the Pirates
of the Caribbean movie?"
"Yep."
"Cool! Are you in the special feature, Diary of a Ship?"
"Yeah, they caught me a couple of times."
"Were you on the boat when she came to The Dalles in 2002?"
"Uh... yeah, I was."
"Ha! I thought I had seen you before. That means you were one of the
incredibly cool looking people that drew me to the Lady in the first place.
Not like I got to know any of you, but I just looked around at all the crew
members, and thought, 'I want to run away and be one of these people.'"
In her even, quiet, temperate voice, she said, "And now you are."
I looked at her and smiled, and she smiled back. And now I am.
"So what is everyone planning to do this evening?"
"Well, the crewmembers that are old enough to drink may go to the
bar. The rest of us will probably just go to
bed early."
"Wait a minute, how old are you?"
"Nineteen."
"And you're the bosun!?"
"Yep."
"Damn! I'm impressed."
"Thanks."
I did frantic math in my head. "That means you started working on the Lady
when you were 12 years old."
"Yep."
"I thought you had to be at least 16."
"Yeah, they've gotten more strict on that recently. I was lucky."
I had had her pegged at about 25, which is the same age I'd have chosen
for her when I first saw her, four years ago. Age on the Lady is not actually counted in years since your birth. It's counted as how many weeks you've served on board. From that moment on, I was in
utter awe of Esther. Her air of competence and authority is not to be questioned, and does not belong to the typical teenager. I want to be bosun when I grow up.
We had breakfast at 8AM, with oatmeal with flax seeds, walnuts, cranberries
and apricots. It was very clear to me that I'd be eating better over
the next two weeks than I eat at home.
I rooted through the ships supply of "funny clothes" aka "funnies" until I found some stuff that sort of fit.
Dockside tours began at 10AM.
At 1PM, we kicked the public out and ate lunch. Then at 2PM, we took on passengers for a three hour sail ("...a three hour tour..."). This was my first sail as a crewmember, though I'd been a passenger on three sails before this, staring up in awe and fascination at the topmen in the rigging.
Rob, the First Mate, ordered me to "shadow" Esther for my first sail. First thing she did is
help me find a safety harness: basic rock climbing gear for going aloft.
She then led me up the shrouds on the starboard side to the forecourse yard,
the lowest yard on the front mast. We go up the starboard side whenever we
are in port, so that if we fall, we fall into the water, rather than the
dock.
I was nervous at two points: First, when the lowest set of shrouds comes
into the mast, there is a platform. There's a set of inverted shrouds at
that point, leading over the lip of the platform.
I got very nervous trying
to climb over that lip, as my left shoulder was still hurting and I didn't
trust it. Every time I had to let go with my right hand, I thought I would
fall. Yet, my shoulder didn't let me down at all. The next point I got
nervous was inching out the footropes over the yard.
Esther went out first
and took the far end of the yard, letting me work close to the mast, where I
could keep one foot back on the shrouds. The gaskets get untied before
leaving port, so the sail is ready to be raised and lowered. I was very
glad to get down.
(This photo was taken a few days later, when I was a bit braver)
Our passengers came on board, and Beth greeted them and gave the whole
safety speach, introduced the crew, and talked about what we would be doing.
We went out into the Strait of Juan de Fuca for an hour and a half and then
turned around to come back. The first mate called sail when it was time to
tack: "Rise tacks and sheets!" Esther coached me on what lines to pull
when, and tried to describe what we were actually doing.
After the first time we tacked, with the entire crew running around the deck and the passengers watching in fascination, the steward called out, "And that, Ladies and Gentlemen, was how they did it over FIFTY YEARS AGO!"
To which the crew replied, "NO! Surely not! No one was alive back then!"
The wind kept coming up the entire time we were out. It started out at about 15 knots,
and by the time we were halfway back to the dock, it was 30 knots, and the
spray from the waves was breaking over the bow and soaking the passengers
and crew. We took in sail repeatedly on the way back, and finally the mate
called, "Hands aloft to furl the sails!" Esther led me back up the shrouds.
This time, we were needed even higher, and we climbed to the topyard, about
35 feet off the deck. The boat rocked like a tub, and there we were,
leaning over the yard, pulling the sail up with our wet hands, while
balancing on the slack footropes. Esther patiently explained to me how to
gather up the loose, flapping sail, fold it, and wrap and tie the gasket,
and all the while, I am doing my best to control utter panic. Mercifully,
she sent me down after one or two gaskets, and once again took the ones out
at the end of the yard. My thought as my feet touched the deck was, "I'm
alive!" At about that same time, a flapping block hit Beth in the head as
she climbed the main mast rigging. I watched as the topmen on the t'gallant (the highest and
tiniest yard, about 60 feet off the deck) struggled with their gaskets,
while the yard swung back and forth in relation to the mast.
We got back to the dock about 45 minutes late, because we ended up slowly
motoring upwind. The captain addressed the passengers, apologized for the
late arrival, and went on to say, "If you had fun today, please tell your
friends. If you didn't, well, nobody likes a bummer story." That got a
laugh. "I will be placing my hat at the bottom of the ramp. If you would
like to contribute to the Sailor's Retirement Fund, you may place whatever
you feel called to give into the hat. Some of our volunteer crew will be
retiring to the laundromat tonight, some to the ice cream parlor, and some
to various other establishments on shore."
That night at muster, the captain reminded us to take
the slack out of the braces when we lower the yards, so the yards don't swing so
much while we're trying to furl sails. We talked about Beth getting smacked in the head. We also got a new crewmember, Tara, 20 years old college freshman,
making me no longer the junior-most crewmember. She became our second cook, giving Sprite a chance to do other things, like painting and tarring the rigging.
The Red Lion Inn next to the dock donated a hotel room to us, so we all had
the opportunity to shower and laze around watching TV. I walked to the room
with Esther and got to know her a little.
"So how long have you been crewing the Lady Washington?"
"Off and on for seven years."
"Really, so were you on the crew that went to the Caribbean for the Pirates
of the Caribbean movie?"
"Yep."
"Cool! Are you in the special feature, Diary of a Ship?"
"Yeah, they caught me a couple of times."
"Were you on the boat when she came to The Dalles in 2002?"
"Uh... yeah, I was."
"Ha! I thought I had seen you before. That means you were one of the
incredibly cool looking people that drew me to the Lady in the first place.
Not like I got to know any of you, but I just looked around at all the crew
members, and thought, 'I want to run away and be one of these people.'"
In her even, quiet, temperate voice, she said, "And now you are."
I looked at her and smiled, and she smiled back. And now I am.
"So what is everyone planning to do this evening?"
"Well, the crewmembers that are old enough to drink may go to the
bar. The rest of us will probably just go to
bed early."
"Wait a minute, how old are you?"
"Nineteen."
"And you're the bosun!?"
"Yep."
"Damn! I'm impressed."
"Thanks."
I did frantic math in my head. "That means you started working on the Lady
when you were 12 years old."
"Yep."
"I thought you had to be at least 16."
"Yeah, they've gotten more strict on that recently. I was lucky."
I had had her pegged at about 25, which is the same age I'd have chosen
for her when I first saw her, four years ago. Age on the Lady is not actually counted in years since your birth. It's counted as how many weeks you've served on board. From that moment on, I was in
utter awe of Esther. Her air of competence and authority is not to be questioned, and does not belong to the typical teenager. I want to be bosun when I grow up.