Maine Windjammer Cruises

Maine Windjammer Cruises
Thursday, September 18, 2008

Going Aloft

Ben McCanna

Going Aloft

A model of the Angelique, (not to scale).

(page 1 of 3)

Last night, while hanging out on the foredeck with Shelly and the cook, Chad Pelletier, I expressed an interest in going aloft. In this mad, season-long quest to experience firsthand the knockabout lives of schooner bums, I’d logged — at least to my mind — some notable achievements: I’d tacked headsails in a gale; demystified the myriad lines of standing and running rigging; climbed the head rig to furl canvas while underway; practiced all manner of knots and coiling techniques; learned to identify windjammers by their rigs like an ornithologist observes plumage; and even suffered cold, wet weather in bare feet like a bona fide deck ape. Going aloft seemed like the next step in a natural—albeit slow — progression.

While most reasonable people go to great lengths to avoid heights, the average schooner bum fervently seeks them. Part of the appeal of climbing the rigging, I’m sure, is pride. A schooner bum who fails to mount the ratlines would be as cowardly as an outlaw who never drew his gun.

Theatricality plays a part, too. I’m sure there’s something satisfying about fearlessly teetering atop a swaying mast while a gaggle of lubberly onlookers gasps below your feet.

And, naturally, going aloft to furl the headsails or inspect the rigging is as much a part of the daily routine as dropping anchor or swabbing the deck. The fearful need not apply.

Still, when you talk to schooner bums, they never couch the task in daring terms. Instead, they mention the allure of peace and solitude found on high. When you live and work aboard a cramped windjammer, going aloft may be the only time you’ll find yourself utterly alone. Solitude is a rare commodity in this seagoing life; a privilege that mates and deckhands vie for. And, once up there, the schooner bums invariably find reasons to lengthen their stay.

I, on the other hand, have an unsteady relationship with heights. When I was younger, heights weren’t a problem. In my college days, however, I lost my nerve when I broke my collarbone jumping from a train trestle into a swim hole far below.

Last night while talking to Chad, my gusto had been amplified by a mug of red wine; today, I’m all too happy to forget the conversation ever took place.

Unfortunately, Chad has not forgotten. When the Deer Isle-Sedwick Bridge comes into view, Chad approaches Captain Mike and says, “Ben really wants to go aloft today while we pass under the bridge. Is that OK?”

“No problem,” says Mike.

Chad Pelletier raises the Maine state flag.

Posted on Thursday, September 18, 2008 in Permalink

Views expressed in this blog belong to the author and do not necessarily reflect either Down East's editorial stance or the views of Down East Enterprise. We ask that comments be civil; anyone who refuses to self edit runs the risk of being banned from commenting on Down East.com content.

Reader Comments:
Old to new | New to old
Sep 18, 2008 05:45 pm
 Posted by  Anonymous

Love the video Ben-esp. since I dislike heights too!

Sep 18, 2008 08:11 pm
 Posted by  Anonymous

Hey Ben,

I am enjoying the cruise all over again!!!! What a great trip it was with good times, great people, excellent food, and awesome whales!!!!

Thanks!
Teresa

Add your comment:

Create an instant account, or please log in if you have an account. Anonymous comments are enabled.



Verification Question. (This is so we know you are a human and not a spam robot.)

What is 7 + 2 ? 

Weather Forecast

Click on a region for a complete forecast


About This Blog

There are twelve traditional tall ships in the Maine Windjammer Association; this summer I'm sailing on all of them.

For many, a windjammer vacation represents the perfect Maine getaway. Each day is filled with the sights that have become shorthand for Vacationland: lighthouses, lobster pots, and loons.

But life at sea isn’t pure leisure for everyone. To keep these antique vessels shipshape, the men and women who sail them must first endure a season of hard labor during spring fit-out. Then, in summer, these schooner bums will work long days at the helm or in the galley, only to bed down for a short night’s sleep in a humble crew berth.

Over the next six and a half months, I’ll learn what makes these trips so special for the passengers, but I’ll also find out what it is about the cool waters of Penobscot Bay that keep these schooner bums coming back for more.

Ben McCanna is a freelance writer, editor, and videographer. He lives in Rockland.