Gone Sailing: Gulf Shores, Alabama to Key West on Little Wing

Sunday, March 1, 2009

Gulf Shores, Alabama to Key West on Little Wing

On Feburary 16, 2009 we four guys, Steve Tedford, Mike Darden, Ken Rollins and I set sail from Gulf Shores, Alabama, to Pensacola Pass, to Clearwatrer FL, to Dry Tortugas, to Key West, to Marathon, FL in the Keys. We sailed on the fine 37 ft. yacht, Little Wing. Here is our story in pictorial form.

(click on url: http://picasaweb.google.com/cstewartphotos/KeyWest22009?authkey=Gv1sRgCO_3wNG_t-i2fg#

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Origin of the ships name, "Briar Patch"

In the early '80s I was working for a national telecommunications company in Charlotte, NC, and had informed my boss that I had a great desire to move back home to Alabama where my family still lived, and in fact, I must do so. It was met with the ridicule of "why leave the booming new south for a territory that we have never done any business in". In fact, they suggested that I would have to trade my car in on a red pickup with a gun in the back. Recalling a story from Uncle Remus in Song of the South, I could only tell them to just "throw me in the briar patch". I thought that would be an appropriate name for my new boat in the Gulf of Mexico.

Sea Fever

I must down to the seas again, to the lonely sea and the sky, And all I ask is a tall ship and a star to steer her by, And the wheel's kick and the wind's song and the white sail's shaking, And a grey mist on the sea's face, and a grey dawn breaking. I must down to the seas again, for the call of the running tide Is a wild call and a clear call that may not be denied; And all I ask is a windy day with the white clouds flying, And the flung spray and the blown spume, and the sea-gulls crying. I must down to the seas again, to the vagrant gypsy life, To the gull's way and the whale's way where the wind's like a whetted knife; And all I ask is a merry yarn from a laughing fellow-rover And a quiet sleep and a sweet dream when the long trick's over. -- John Masefield 1878-1967

Sailing Portrays The Lessons of Life

I don't know how it got there. It must have been that I was just born with salt in my veins and never knew that it was there until, over time, I noticed that everything that I thought, that I loved, that I drempt of, and of the places that I chose to spend my time, all had a distinct and undeniable taste of salt in them.

I love sailing. In the words of R.C. Gibbons, "I long for the solitude of a sunset at sea, and the chill of the breeze coming in with the eve. For the motion of my boat, as she swings on her rode, and the beauty of the stars, in the evenings last glow."

I believe that sailing gives us lessons in life, such that if we pay attention to both, we should see great similarities, and could learn from the one, how to achieve in the other.

Joyce Brothers says it well, "There is a rule in sailing where the more maneuverable ship should give way to the less maneuverable craft. I think this is sometimes a good rule to follow in human relationships as well."

My Uncle Bill had a favorite poem, one that he kept with him from his days at the US Naval Academy in Annapolis, and that he handed down to me. I have it framed and hanging on the bulkhead in Briar Patch's cabin. It is a bit of sailing wisdom from the pen of Ella Wheeler Wilcox.

One ship sails East,
And another West,
By the self same winds that blow,
'Tis the set of the sails
And not the gales that tell the way we go.

Like the winds of the sea
Are the waves of time,
As we journey along through life,
'Tis the set of the soul,
That determines the goal,
And not the calm or the strife.
--Ella Wheeler Wilcox, 1916

When I was contemplating a job change back in my (the old) AT&T days, I rationalized a job change by drawing a parallel with the task of sailing towards a life goal, but when the winds change, you must tack, reef sail, or maybe hove-to. Sailing forces you to change your tactics but not to change your destination just because the weather doesn't cooperate. To do all of that takes knowledge, training, confidence, and of course, a dash of luck. Sounds a lot like... life, doesn't it?

I wrote a poem myself many years ago when my young nephew Robbie was killed in an accident and I was trying to deal with the loss and the grief. There was a verse that still makes me think of him and of that day that he was buried at sea:
"A ship can't sail dead to wind,
her sails will rip and tear.
So she takes a tack on another course,
one that will get her there.
To sail down wind is the easy way,
but destined for remorse,
It is resistance in the windward cloth
that helps her make the course. "

Even life in it's final stages has reference to the sea. One of my favorite poems, which also came from Uncle Bill was read at his eulogy in 2006.

The Ship
I am standing upon the seashore. A ship at my side spreads her white sails to the morning breeze and starts for the blue ocean.
She is an object of beauty and strength, and I stand and watch her until at length she is only a speck of white cloud just where the sea and the sky meet and mingle with each other. Then someone at my side exclaims, "There, she's gone!"
Gone where? Gone from my sight, that is all. She is just as large in hull and mast and spar as she was when she left my side, and just as able to bear her load of living freight to the place of her destination. Her diminished size is in me, not in her.
And just at the moment when someone at my side says, "She's gone", there are other eyes watching for her coming and other voices ready to take up the glad shout, "There, she comes!"
And that is dying.
--Unknown

Gone Sailing

Sunday, March 1, 2009

Gulf Shores, Alabama to Key West on Little Wing

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Origin of the ships name, "Briar Patch"

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