I Should Have Gone Sailing

“You’re like one of those clipper ship captains – You’re married to the sea.”
“Yes, that’s true. But I’ve been out to sea for a long time.”
-Rushmore


When you’re a salty, old sailor, you know a thing or two about the world. Sometimes you don’t need to keep house to have a home. Sometimes a drop of Nelson’s blood won’t do you any harm. A swig of rum is nothing to scoff at.

It has long been a dream of mine to return to the sea. When I stand upon the ocean shore and look off to the horizon, I feel a part of me set sail for adventure; however, that part is never my body.

Tall ships have always fascinated my father. He loves reading old naval tales and running his hands over polished wood ship wheels. I believe when he sits alone staring off into space he hears the billows of sails filling with wind. Any yare vessel can grab his attention and send him into a swarthier time when men were men – men with poor hygiene and even wore grammar. They were different days, but days they were! The point (assuming I can ever make one) is that that my blood flows a little saltier than normal, for I have long desired to return to the sea.


When I was in fifth grade my class went on an overnight fieldtrip at the end of the year to San Francisco where we would join the crews of the C. A. Thayer and the Balclutha. I was named mate of the galley (that’s the kitchen for those of you who haven’t earned your sea legs yet) and soon realized any romanticized views my father had about these tall ships were entirely fictitious! Not only was I brazenly reprimanded for the incompetence of my crew, but I never got a chance to sleep because I had to bring the captain a fresh cup of coffee every hour. Oh, and one of my crewmen used salt instead of sugar to make our coffeecake for breakfast. Nuts to that!

The point is, I don’t want to sail tall ships. I’ll leave that to manlier men than I (thank you Ryan Downs for handling that one). I also don’t think I could handle joining a fishing trawler despite my one time plan to flee to Alaska and do so – they would just make fun of me.

No, it is the sailing life for me. Alone on the sea. Sailing from port to port with my bicycle (Her Majesty) stowed bellow. That’s the kind of carefree lifestyle I could get behind! However, (as there usually is a ‘however’ with me) I have never been sailing. It has long been an embarrassing thorn in the side of my lovely, seafaring dreams. They have always been a little to grand for me (a child taunting a mutt at the foot of a table). However, (yet again!) this has all changed.

In recent days I have become friends with Mount Hermon legend, Ron Demolar. Ron, aside from being a good man, also apparently is the part owner of a ship. I knew nothing of this until one day a couple of weeks ago when Ron and I were going out for lunch together. Just as we were preparing to leave he turned to me and said, “I know this is last minute, but would you like to go sailing?” My heart went aflutter and I felt like the prettiest girl at the dance. Yes-yes-a thousand times yes! Half an hour later we were aboard the tiny vessel and setting sail for a brighter future. The ocean breeze whipped through my hair – I silently smiled at the waves rolling ahead of us. This was it. I was out to sea. My mind raced to old maps – sirens and mermaids dancing amongst grotesque monsters.

There is great beauty in being out to sea or in the air where man does not naturally go. I was free.


Eventually we returned to shore. The moments onboard were brief but intoxicating. I have been back out since, and each time signals some new, childlike elation I have not known before.

Anne Morrow Lindbergh was correct – there is a gift from the sea.