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    Nautical Musings
    Nautical Musings
    Nautical Musings
    Ebook127 pages1 hour

    Nautical Musings

    By James Keen

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    About this ebook

    Finding and buying a suitable sailing vessel was an adventure, followed by years spent learning to care for and handle the boat. Learning to appreciate that boat, the sea, and fragile North Carolina coastline filled my spare moments.
    In early 1993, my buddy Ramon (Ray) Atkins and I found, and Ray purchased Irish Mist, a tired but sturdy 1964 Pearson Vanguard 32-foot sailboat. For three wonderful years, our combined families restored and learned to sail our boat. I became the new owner of Irish Mist as Ray advanced to a Heritage West Indies 38-foot sailboat named Mariah.
    In October, 1993, I began to write a weekly sailing adventure column in our local daily newspaper, The Daily Southerner in Tarboro, North Carolina. Chronicled in over 150 weekly columns, I related the increasingly adventurous forays into the nautical world as we become sailors.
    Welcome aboard, as I present 37 of those original articles.

    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherJames Keen
    Release dateJun 5, 2012
    ISBN9781476069999
    Nautical Musings
    Author

    James Keen

    Circumnavigations of Sir Francis Charles Chichester and Joshua Slocum have always fascinated me. As a young adult, I followed the circumnavigation of 16-year-old Robin Lee Graham in his 22-foot sailing sloop. His book, Dove, tells the story of finding maturity and a seafaring wife. I restored and sailed a wooden 21-foot Lightning Class sailboat, owned small runabouts, leased crewed and bareboat sailing yachts, and restored and sailed a classic 32-foot Vanguard sailboat, Irish Mist. I have extensive experience sailing rivers and sounds of eastern N.C. However, an ocean sailing crossing had eluded me. After college, I became a Certified Public Accountant, practiced with a large national firm, and then ran my own CPA firm. I worked in a commercial construction firm, then owned and operated a construction company in which I built several McDonalds and other fast food restaurants. In the 1980s, I closed my construction company, obtained a Masters in Community College Education degree, and taught accounting, auditing, taxes, and computer subjects at a local community college. After 15 years of teaching, I took an early retirement and settled into a waterfront retirement community near Chocowinity, NC. After crossing the Atlantic (Trinidad Express), I sailed Irish Mist on a 13-month, singlehanded circumnavigation of the eastern US, a trip known as America's Great Loop.

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      Book preview

      Nautical Musings - James Keen

      A Love of Things Nautical

      I can't remember when my love for the sea began.

      Maybe growing up while taking frequent weekend trips to our beach cottage influenced my young mind. Maybe it began during long winter armchair sessions with nautical adventure writers like Eric Hiscock, Tristan Jones, and Herb Payson.

      Regardless, the final result is a life-long recreational pursuit of things nautical.

      My fascination may be learning about the many facets of the sea: the diversity of the nautical experience. Fishing, boating, SCUBA diving, shelling, skiing, and just watching are acceptable ways of messing about on water. I've done them all.

      Some fifteen years ago, as a resident of Sanford, NC, my family was befriended by Ramon and Donna Atkins and their three children. Our friendship began and matured with church outings while a true respect and love for each other ripened as we shared the problems of raising a family.

      Fishing trips to the beach cottage, tubing in mountain streams, and learning to SCUBA dive were some of the experiences shared by our combined families. Teaching our families about the nuances of the wind, the flutter of the jib, and the brilliant color of submerged coral has been a great source of enjoyment.

      Ten years later, with the children married or off at college, Ray, Donna, my wife Jackie, and myself embarked on a new nautical adventure. Our goal was to buy a sailboat, perfect the skills required to sail and care for the boat and gain the experience necessary for the day when we would sail off to a tropical sailing retirement.

      Our middle-aged foursome failed to comprehend the scope of this undertaking.

      After several years of dock walking and annual trips to the Annapolis Boat Show, we gained the necessary experience to buy the boat that would fit our needs. We located a 26 year-old, 32-foot Pearson Vanguard sloop and quickly made the purchase.

      Irish Mist was a classic offshore boat of unquestioned strength, rough in appearance and in need of much tender loving care. Skinned knuckles from scrapping paint, dust in our eyes from sanding teak trim, and varnish stains on our clothes, were signs of our labor in putting her in like-new condition. Completing the renovation chore, It was finally time to go sailing.

      Coastal North Carolina trips to Cape Lookout, day sailing on the Neuse River and Pamlico Sound. and lazy weekends at anchor in a cozy cove all added to our sailing knowledge and experience. We battled storms under reefed mainsail, reset dragging anchors in the dark of the night, and marveled at the silver glow of the harvest moon over the open ocean. We even attempted a 600-mile offshore sail to the Abacos, Bahamas, although it didn't turn out the way we had originally planned.

      Sailing has taught us self reliance, confidence in our abilities, and trust in our sailing companions. We gained an appreciation for the beauty and power of the sea. Our friendship with the Atkins has made association with the sea more enjoyable as confidence, love, and trust grew between us.

      Even though I can't remember when my love for the sea began, I have finally matured enough to remember and really appreciate the ultimate benefit of getting wet―the sharing of the experience with friends and family.

      (The Daily Southerner, Tarboro, NC, October 13, 1993)

      Enjoying People on the Water

      Rescuing Josie

      The sailboat ahead on the Intracoastal Waterway leaned sideways. Looks like she's aground, Ray yelled over the diesel as he and I motored south with the wind blowing a cold 24-knots from hard abeam.

      Arriving alongside, we could see Easy Rider was solidly aground. On deck a russet Chow barked crazily at everything.

      The sailboat was obviously one of the many snowbirds―boats escaping northern winter―motoring down the ICW for warmer southern climate.

      Passing slowly to windward, I yelled at the skipper asking if he wanted a tow.

      An exaggerated nod told us we had a rescue on our hands. It was pay back time for all the help we had received when we had grounded. The nod also told us that there was a woman wrapped tightly in the heavy brown coat, scarf, and watch cap.

      Ray circled to align our bow into the wind as I dug a spare anchor line from the cockpit locker. Realizing it was too heavy to throw to the other boat, I tied our braided dock line to the anchor line, creating a lighter flexible heaving line.

      On the next pass, I threw the line hitting the skipper squarely. She scrambled forward pulling the heavy tow line to her bow.

      Signaling ready, Easy Rider’s skipper scrambled back to the cockpit. Ray gradually tightened the tow line and applied power, pulling her bow around toward us. A few moments of tugging and she was free.

      As I coiled the tow line to dry on the stern, Easy Rider’s skipper gathered the dock line to return it. I shouted a warning that she was about to be blown back on the shoal causing her to scramble once again to the cockpit to tend the controls.

      I yelled that we'd pick up the dock line at Swan Point Marina, the next marina about two hours south. Easy Rider fell in behind us as we resumed our southward trek.

      Turning into the Swan Point channel, we quickly glided into the familiar harbor where Ray's wife Donna and marina employee Ricky waited. As I finished tying the bow line, we saw Easy Rider motor past the entrance continuing south.

      Oh well, Ray said. Maybe she needed a dock line more than I did.

      Ricky went to make a fresh pot of coffee while we finished securing the boat, improvising in place of the missing dock line. As we headed for the marina office, three blasts of an air horn caused us to turn toward the harbor entrance where Easy Rider was entering.

      As we helped the new arrival tie up, the skipper apologized, saying she had not seen us turn into the harbor.

      My name is Josie, she said in a husky voice as she stuck out a mittened hand.

      In the marina, Josie unwrapped her scarf and coat revealing a dirty round face, cold black matted hair, and lanky body.

      She offered thanks for the rescue. Each time I got free, the wind would push me back aground, she said in an educated voice between sips of coffee.

      Unable to get a job after recently earning a Masters Degree in Marine Science, we learned she was headed home, single-handed in her 26-foot sailboat. California bound by way of the Panama Canal, her dog kept her company on long cold nights.

      Josie visited the rest room, cleaning up after a harsh day on a boat without toilet facilities. Returning, she quickly warmed to her surroundings, her harsh features softening as a beautiful woman emerged with each laugh.

      We talked about the poor job market confronting graduating college students. Her best paying job to date was cleaning boat hulls with a scrub pad and SCUBA gear.

      If I've got to clean boat hulls, might as well do it at home in good old southern California, she purred with an infectious laugh.

      When Donna suggested lunch, we piled into the Geo for the short ride to JC's. More stories made the rounds during the Sunday seafood buffet, allowing us to get to know this lovely young lady, not unlike Jone and Dianne, our own daughters near the same age.

      Soon we were back at the marina making arrangements for the check-up on the new diesel engine. Josie decided that she had had enough cold exposure for the day and arranged to spend the night. She dived into the paperback exchange library, looking new diversions.

      Finishing our business, we waved good-by and headed for the car.

      Another anonymous snowbird had become a friend.

      (The Daily Southerner, Tarboro, NC, December 29, 1993)

      Close Up With a Mangrove

      As we drove south along US1 toward Key West, Donna yelled, Stop! Stop! I want to get up close and personal with a Mangrove tree.

      As a First Grade teacher, we have come to expect unusual things from Donna, however her enthusiasm was completely out of character for our usually reserved friend.

      I've never seen a Mangrove tree up close. Do they live in water with their roots sitting in water? Do shells and crabs live on their roots? Can we get a picture to take back to my class? Donna

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