Ashley on the Hornpipe

Monday – January 10, 2010
I have never sailed a boat. I have barely ever even been on a sailboat. From my perspective a “rig” is something you drive, a “boom” is something that happens when you fall down. I don’t know my stern from my bow. If you are looking for technical knowledge of the Fishers Hornpipe (FHP), nautical terminology, or anything resembling the sea diaries of a serious sailor, you will be sorely disappointed with my perspective. Everyone who knows anything about sailing or the FHP is busy preparing for our departure. Everyone else is too busy rigging stuff and figuring out why the engine keeps flooding to sit down and write a blog. That said, I am learning. And yesterday, I did a pretty decent job of helping the crew fit a frozen, stubborn, non-elastic biminy to the cockpit. (…If that sounded like pretty decent usage of sailing jargon, I must admit that I had to ask Nadine what each of these things were called: “Nadine, what do you call that hood-tingum that we put on yesterday? (biminy). Nadine, is there a word for the place that you sit and steer on a boat?” (cockpit). ) With my sincerest apologies for not being the most knowledgeable about what it is that we are currently doing, and what exactly we are about to embark on, I hope to occasionally share with you my humble perspective of our voyage on the Fishers Hornpipe.

This Thursday, January the 13th a crew of five Island School teachers: Rob, Nadine, Jonny, Matt and Ashley (me) and two other crew: Rob’s brother Joe, and Joe’s long time friend Tracy, will setting sail on a voyage of great magnitude. Over the next month
we will be sailing, motoring, and generally whistling the Hornpipe down the eastern seaboard from Wickford, Rhode Island to Cape Eluthera, The Bahamas.

Over the last week our crew has been slowly assembling; we have been busy slaving away, long day after long cold, cold, frozen day, working to get the FHP ready and capable of the long voyage ahead. For some reason the engine has been flooding. This is problematic due to the fact that during much of our journey, we will not actually be sailing at all; we will be motoring (via engine power) in areas like the intercoastal waterways, where the width of the waterways are much too narrow for tacking back and forth. And, we just generally need a working freakin’ engine on this thing, for a lot of varying reasons of consequence, like when there is no wind. Do not be concerned; remember: this is my perspective here, I am pretty sure that Rob, Joe, and their dad understand why the engine has been flooding. They have been spending countless hours intermittently contorted, reaching and prodding around inside the bilge (“Nadine, what do you call that place down inside where the engine goes? (bilge)” trying to determine the root of the problem. Yesterday, Rob informed me of the current state of the engine with a useful, though slightly cryptic, assessment: “too much milk, not enough shake.” So, from my perspective, there you have it. Even more sure I am, that they will have the problem under control by the time we set sail.

Wednesday – January 12, 2010

I am growing more and more aware of what an insane idea it is to sail down the Atlantic seaboard in the dead of winter with 48 feet of boat, seven other people, only two small propane heaters (named Senior1 and Senior2), and an engine named Twinkie. Speaking of Twinkie, looks like they have fixed the little hitch in the giddyup. They have found a system for keeping her functioning and non-flooded. With any luck, Twinkie will prove as long-lived, enduring, and never expiring as the snack food for which it was named. Long live Twinkie. Yesterday was another long day on the boat spent slowly completing item after item on the to-do list. Matt and Rob worked out some electrical issues, while the rest of the crew worked on many other integral systems and structures for a functioning sailboat. I, having little relevant technical knowledge of such systems, cleaned and cleaned. From bow to stern, from port to starboard, I cleaned (notice the growingly savvy use of nautical terminology). With the musical inspiration of Bob Seger on the tape deck, I cleaned. We ended the day with a momentous occasion marking the journey we are about to begin: Nadine, Tracy and I put the large, official-looking “Fishers Hornpipe – Wickford, RI” sticker on the back of the boat. We are now a legitimate sailing vessel. She looked proud and glorious with the shiny new letters standing out in the fading shades of the coming nightfall.

Today, after Matt shoveled the new foot of snow from the off of the driveway, we got back to work. Half of the crew went down to the FHP to work away on more bits of preparation. The other half stayed behind and worked here. Nadine resumed her sewing project of making new cushion covers for the three foam pad seats/benches where we will be resting our weary bones for the next month. After lunch, the crew was brought together for an official logistical meeting held by Rob. We discussed safety systems, meaning how not to get knocked off of the boat or smashed in the head by the boom. Turns out that “a boom” is something that happens when you fall down. We plan to sail in two person shifts, three hours a piece, sometimes through the night. This is called “watch” (new sailing term for me, if you are familiar with Island School, its kind of like being on duty, only colder and likely even less fun). We talked about the route, possible stops along the way, and how one day—locked up in a frozen New England suburb it seems impossible to imagine—we will make our crossing over the bright blue waters of the gulf stream, to our Bahamian home. And until that day, I hope to continue with these little occasional insights into the life as a member of the Fishers Hornpipe crew… In the mean time, I’ll try to get someone to post with a little more technical nautical know-how than me…