Friday, October 1, 2010

Cause 5 graf essay

Cause 5 graf essay

Slowly, I became aware that my jaw muscles were aching from grinding my teeth. The wind had been coming on from the South all day. I find that when the weather starts to build my mind becomes anxious about not knowing what is coming. That is why I was grinding my teeth. Sailing can truly put you in touch with Mother Nature. The feel of the wind gradually getting stronger on my face. I was receiving only the occasional mist of salt spray a short time ago, now it was coming over the side hard enough to make me duck. The smell of the salt air and decay of seaweed. The sound of the wind whistling in my ears combined with the growl of waves passing under the bow. It makes me think of sailors past, and how they must have felt plying these waters. I am sure that they felt exactly the same way I do.
When I was a child my father would take us out on the river and occasional out on the bay. We had power boats and typically went out fishing for mackerel on calm days. We would motor down the river and stop at the Port Clyde General Store where he would buy Wonder bread, bologna, and cream soda, too, as dad would say, “prepare lunch aboard.” Dad had spent four years in the Navy. His job had been more of a secretary than that of a sailor working behind a desk and not a helm. I do not think he was ever at sea. But you would think he was some sort of Admiral by the way he would order my brother and I around. He did have a basic knowledge of navigation and loved to teach what he knew to his sons. A father passing on his love for the water, just like his father had done. These were some of my first recollections of being on the water. The sun shining warm as I lay on the deck. The ocean, green, calm and slick looking, with only a gentle roll of some old sea swell. I would fall fast asleep in the warm sunshine, with the gentle rocking and a belly full of bologna sandwich and soda.
When I was introduced to sailing as teen it was through Outward Bound in the early 1990's. I had an adventurous side that matched well with sailing. I was outside, which I enjoyed, and was with like minded outdoorsy people. The sailing was in open boats call Pulling boats. They are made of wood, they were heavy, and built to be like the old Life boats the were on ocean going steam ships from the early part of the last century. There had two sails made of canvas and no pulleys or any sort of mechanical advantage to work them. They are called traditional boats. If there was no wind you rowed them with fourteen foot Ash oars called “Misery Sticks”. There were no electronics or creature comforts aside from a marine radio the was carried in an Igloo cooler along with the battery to run it. They called it “white knuckle” sailing. We were out in the elements all the time and you very much close to nature. There was nothing modern about these boats, in fact, the theory is, you were taught how to survive in these boats if your ship was sunk by a German U-boat. The theory originating in the 1930's when Outward Bound was started as a survival school. Make due with a minimal of equipment and a lot of knowledge. This was when traditional sailing ships were still common and still used to transport cargo and passengers.
In the future I gravitated towards these “traditional” boats. I got a job working as crew on a traditional wooden Schooner. This type of boat common on the coast of Maine and it is very unique in today’s world. It had no winches, all the sails were raised with block and tackle. You shortened sail by hand, had to know how to tie knots and had to understand the rigging. The Captain of the boat was also the owner and had grown up sailing on other traditional boats. He was glad to pass down all that he had learned over the years. He is a great teacher and mentor. The more I sailed with him the more I realized there was to know. Schooners once used in this part of the world to move cargo and people are still around. I found that there is a whole fleet of large traditional schooners along the coast. Some date back to 1871 and are still in service today only they are used to carry passengers instead of cargo. These boats are still operated that same way as when they were built. No motors, oil lamps, natural fibers to make the sails and rope, all the meals prepared on wooden cook stoves. It is like stepping back in time on these boats. On any given day sailing out on Penobscot Bay you can see ten or twelve boats over a hundred years old. This is the same scene that would have played out on the bay a when these boats were freshly built. I found that there was an amazing amount of history tied up on the dock next to me.
Now, I have sailed on modern boats, with all the latest, up to date technology. Satellite phones, GPS, chart-plotters, and radar. But what if you blow a fuse? You still have to know how to sail like it's a hundred and fifty years ago. That is how I am wired. I know how the old time sailors felt. I now the uncertainty of not knowing exactly what the weather is going to do. Not knowing exactly where I am, what time we will be home or if we will even make it back today. Not knowing if there are any other boats ahead of me in the fog. I have tasted the same salt spray, seen the same sail trim, felt the same ropes burn through my hands, as a sailor a century and a half ago. I can tell the name of a far off boat by the way its sails are rigged. I know how a wooden boat will “speak” to you. If you want to know what I mean, I will teach you. I learned what I know from a couple of old timers who were happy to share their knowledge. Knowledge that they got from some other old timer. I have had a taste of what is was like to sail in the old days, and I savor it.

1 comment:

  1. This is awfully good writing. Give the school literary magazine, the Eyrie, a shot at it if you like.

    I don't quite see it as a cause essay--three reasons for something. If it fits a pattern, it is perhaps process. I am going to call it process--step by step how you arrived where you did--and take it as process and ask you to write a cause essay when everyone else is doing process.

    Truth is, something this good makes nonsense of these nice textbook categories teachers love. It just is simply an essay, without any foolish labels--organized, rich, personal, interesting, unusual, competent, and handy--and I am pleased to read it.

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