Me Time

Today was my first day off since May 23rd. It was fabulous. I sprang out of bed, ran five miles, ate a burger for breakfast at Phillip's Diner (where, just as the reviews stated, people looked at us when we walked in and one old man even came up to Harrison and I and asked, "You're not from around here, are ya?"), then I sunbathed in the grassy park for hours, occasionally reading the first page of Moby Dick. You'd think I'd have it memorized by now.

Then, as the boat left on a sail, I walked 2+ miles to Walmart and the grocery store.

It was a relaxing day. I needed it so badly. If only because it was my time to do with whatever I wished. The rest of my days are in a controlled environment. "Going to sea is incarceration," quipped Captain Dashing the other day. I hadn't actually thought about it that way until then - now I can hardly think about it otherwise. That's exactly how I've felt lately. Incarcerated. But today I was in control.

Tomorrow we leave for Clayton, NY. It's not a long trip as the crow flies - ten hours of sailing at average speeds - but our plan is to meander down through the thousand islands and anchor somewhere tomorrow night, then continue on Tuesday into Clayton for our big arrival.

We're supposed to get four passengers for this short transit but so far no one has shown up.

As usual, I am falling asleep as I write this. And I've got a big day ahead of me tomorrow, feeding 12. So... Over and out. More backstories soon, I promise.

Back on Solid Ground

What I first mistook for a castle turned out to be
a giant grain elevator across the river from Ogdensburg.

After our eleven-day voyage up the eastern seaboard around the tip of Nova Scotia and into the St. Lawrence, our sleepy vessel pulled into Ogdensburg, NY.

Yes, there were adventures. An emergency stop in Gaspe Bay, Quebec, and an illicit greeting of a friend in Montreal; high seas, bitter cold and a whole boat-full of sick crewmembers. But we made it.

I've rarely been so glad to see land. Even Ogdensburg, this town of 11,000 inhabitants, is a welcome refuge from the relentless days of transit. I was asleep below but apparently there were crowds to greet us.

Just before dinner Captain Flash headed off on her two-week hiatus, leaving us in the command of Captain Dashing. I've been at a low point mentally in terms of my experience on the Marlin. This will be obvious in the back-posts.

I threw together a pot pie with the leftover chicken and an onion tart for Eve, because we were invited to a reception at the local marina. We were quite a sight, dragging ourselves, bone-tired, bedraggled, unshowered, up to the marina and hob-nobbing with the locals.

On Sunday I will have the day off. I'm hoping for sun - and plan to find a park to just lay down in the grass and read Moby Dick. I'll be back-posting a few notes from our days at sea over the next few days - this is just to pop my head up and say that we're all alive and back on solid ground... Well, part of the time anyway.



Thursday's Menu
Breakfast
Red pepper frittata, and date nut bread leftover from the night before
Lunch
Wraps with hummous and ham-n-cheese-n-roasted bell pepper spread; curried egg salad
Dinner
Chicken pot pie
Alsatian onion tart

Leaving Montreal

Chip, tending lines inside the lock.

We left Montreal the next morning, with only 24 hours to go until port. I was jumping out of my skin. 

We went through several locks along the way. The photo doesn't really capture it, but we essentially pulled into these massive boxes, and the water started pouring in, filling the box. The captain was shouting commands the whole time to ease or tighten the lines holding us to the side of the box. It was pretty intense. 

Greeting under Quarantine

The Habitat houses.

We pulled into Montreal and docked directly below the famous Habitat houses. I texted my friend Marika, who I worked with for six years in Sweden, have known for over ten years, and had not seen since last summer in Sweden. I knew we wouldn't be able to really talk. I wasn't allowed to leave the boat, and we were quarantined. But I thought just to see her and say hi would be a great treat.

Marika and the whole family came down to the dock, finagling their way around security just to stand across from me, not touching, but taking in my new environment.

(Unfortunately, I was in the middle of getting dinner on the table, and Eve told me that The TSA was flipping out, afraid I would let them on the boat.)

I wish I could have. If the situation had been any different, I would love to have given them a tour of the boat. Or just given them all big hugs, actually. That felt really strange.

Later Marika texted me that her two sons were talking about "Mommy's friend, the pirate." At least they might remember me now.

Flanking us on the opposite side was this structure, which looked straight out of Star Wars.

St. Lawrence, Here We Come

This was the day we entered the St. Lawrence. Sometime in the afternoon, the weather cleared and warmed up and by evening muster, I think even I was in a t-shirt. Just past a place called Three Rivers, we dropped anchor for the night. The current had become too strong. In the morning we would push on to Montreal.

Reverting to Childhood

That he had to take a cold shower this morning gave me no small thrill. I've got new names for him now. Captain Killjoy and Your Highness. These are the names I say under my breath. I don't like myself, the me that I become around him. I feel so much like a child again. It brings out all the same resentment I used to have toward my father. I swear he actually said something like, "Do you understand?" after he told me that he did not want me wearing headphones during transit. I had the sound so low I could hear onions sizzling. 

The crew had to take the boom off the mainsail, 

to shorten the boat length and reduce our 

costs going down the St. Lawrence.

Although I guess we've had them set before, this 

was the first time I'd seen these special sails set. 

Called the "courses," they operate like a spinnaker. 

It frustrates me because these rules he's so hell-bent on administrating must be made for the lowest common denominator - the teenager who's listening to music in his headphones so loud that the person in the bunk beside him can't sleep. But as a responsible adult, I feel like I know better - I know how and when to bend the rules without jeopardizing my own safety or that of the crew.


But the TSA has no leeway. No imagination. 


I break rules now just to break them. The words running inside my head are a familiar retort to my father, "You think you can control me, but you can't." I lay in my bunk last night, listening to the Weepies, feeling exactly the way I did when I was a kid.  When I get up in the morning, I wear just my socks in the galley, until I actually start cooking. He just said when I was cooking, right?

I had been meaning to say something to Eve about the lack of hot water, but just hadn't thought of it at the right times. I certainly wasn't keeping us deprived of hot water on purpose. "You have to tell 
us when something is wrong," said the TSA, "Or we can't fix it." 




Everything he says seems to irritate me. I have been sick now for seven days. And that doesn't help, does it?

Hominy stew.

Hey Mikie, He Likes It!

Neb stopped in his tracks during a boatcheck today. I was half-in, half-out of my bunk. He said, "Cole, I just have to fuckin' hug you because that quiche you made this morning was so delicious." Then he hugged me. Funny kid.

As we left Gaspe Bay, I asked the question I had on the way in: who lives here? And how do they make their livelihood? It felt like we were in the middle of nowhere. We had sailed again to a place outside of the real world, a kind of outpost at the edge of civilization. It was cold, but getting warmer.

Neb at the wheel.

Smith getting some sun on her face.

Fruit salad with toasted walnuts; Gruyere 

mini-biscuits in the background.

Honey-wheat bread, for sandwiches.

Last Day in Gaspe Bay

English muffins in the skillet.

This was the day we spent preparing to leave Gaspe Bay. I didn't write at all, not even a note. But I remember it vividly. Everyone else stood down the evening before, so I was given the morning off. Typical. Not only did Ol' Dies' finally lose her flame, but we had to move the boat. And with Rigby in a sling, I was on fender duty. Needless to say, I did not get time off. 

Our departure was delayed several times. Just after muster, I asked if we had any antibiotics onboard. My cold had moved to my chest in the last hours (not surprising, after having spent a couple hours in the cold hunched over Ol' Dies', vacuuming out her creosote-lined bowels).

Goat cheese and tomato quiche in the works.

I had English muffin dough in the fridge from the day before, so while we waited for the 10 PM muster, I shaped them and cooked them in the iron skillet. I also baked the quiches for the next day's breakfast.

Captain Dashing returned to muster with something from the Canadian drugstore designed to target mucus and phlegm. It helped somewhat. 

40-knot Winds, Six-foot Seas

Harrison came into the galley all excited because he got her (the boat) up to 11.6, but Captain Flash came in exhausted from fighting the wheel as the boat kept trying to round up into the wind.

Neb at the wheel, while Smith and Rigby look back at the honker wave pushing us along.

In the galley I meanwhile fight my own private war with Big Dies', trying to keep her going when she badly needs cleaning and when every fifteen minutes a gust comes down the smokestack and threatens to put her out (and indeed several have). If only my job were StoveTender Extraordinaire. But it's not. It's cook. And I've got a dinner to get on.

The Shoe Policy is Introduced

Captain Flash came in with bananas, saying, " I know this is unorthodox." So I made bananas from her stash tonight. Captain Dashing warned that we'd hit six foot seas tomorrow on the other side of the Strait of Canso. I should prep tonight, he said. So I did, a bit. And I made bran muffins for breakfast. But it's supposed to be following seas. I think that it's going to be messier on deck than in the galley, but you never know.

The TSA asked me to not wear socks in the galley today. I like wearing socks when I work, especially in the morning. I often roll out of bed and don't even think about footwear, or the fact that I just put an apron on top my pajamas. Sometimes in Wilmington, I wouldn't realize it until muster... then you just start to feel silly standing there in pink velour track pants.

Tuesday's Menu
Breakfast
Biscuits and gravy
Lunch
Wraps with brisket and mashed potatoes, and canned clam chowder which did not go over all that well
Dinner
I made black bean chili with vegetables over rice and parker house rolls. Rigby ate four!

Leaving the City of Lost Memories

A message in a Lunenburg coffee shop.

We departed Lunenburg as we arrived, in fog. It reminded me of the book Invisible Cities, by Italo Calvino, in which he paints pictures of fantastical places that his fictional Marco Polo has been: a city built on stilts; another takes the shape of a camel to those coming from sea, but the shape of water to those coming from land. If Lunenburg were a city in the book, it would be like a city of lost memories, accessible only by a long time at sea and fog. It feels like a place that's lost its footing, aching from neglect, wearing its memories like giant heartstrings strung across the bay. When you pluck them you hear the cry of no children being born; the muffled sound of shopkeepers closing their doors; the monotony of teenagers with nothing but time on their hands.

Lunenburg felt both familiar and foreign. As we departed, the fog rolled in, encompassing us on every side, and the city disappeared. Having sailed to and from it in fog, I had the strange sensation that perhaps we had never been there at all.

Our ship, the microprocessor
I was late with breakfast because it wasn't posted. Captain Dashing, whom I've now nicknamed The TSA, gave a speech about communication using a computer as a metaphor for a ship. There's been a common thread to the speeches all our captains have given when something has gone wrong. They use metaphors, and they point to some situation without naming the individuals involved, using passive verbs. One time, I kept thinking: is she talking about me? Is this something I'm doing? If it is, why doesn't she just tell me? Or is she talking about something else?

Breaded eggplant.

This time I did not approach the captain, but I did wonder if I was being referenced or not. If so, the message got lost on the information highway.


Monday's Menu
Breakfast
I can't recall...
Lunch
I made ravioli from a package, and warmed up yesterday's pizza.
Dinnner
Brisket, braised leeks, mashed potatoes and fried eggplant (because Rigby thought it was going bad - he smelled something funky in the bilge).
Dessert
Brownies from a box

Transit, Day 3 + Arrival in Lunenburg

Israeli cous cous salad.

The transit flew by as it always does, as if in a dream. Perhaps even more so this time, because except for the first afternoon, we sailed through an almost constant fog with no wind. It was as though we were sailing to Neverland, or Byzantium. The ship that time forgot. 

I awoke that last morning with severe cramps, wishing I had any job at that moment for which I would not have to get up and make breakfast. I think I wished this the last time my monthly came around. Throughout the day I had several more of those moments - just a tug of longing to be elsewhere. At one point that morning Smith said there would be no time for Bananagrams during the next long transit down the St. Lawrence because we'd be having work parties. In other words, the crew will be doing projects for ten hours a day. I had kinda been looking forward to a time with no passengers, where we might sit a while after a meal and play a game or two. (When passengers are with us, they sleep in the bunks flanking the main salon.) This made me want to run my own boat. If it were me, since the crew doesn't get a day off during transits and work six days a week the rest of the time, I would make transits a kind of downtime. It makes me miss the days in WIlmington when Cap would give us lessons in the mornings.   

Later, it happened again, when I was preparing the lamb marinade (Captain Dashing said his favorite meat was lamb) and listening to Madame Butterfly at a fairly high volume (is there any other way to listen to opera?). Smith came to turn it down. I understood; we were at the dock and she said they could hear it in the aft cabin. Still, it made me long for an apartment of my own where I could play the aria as loud as I wished. 

What I Learned about Management, I Learned from Ol' Granddad 

Before P1 and P2 left the boat, we had a brief conversation about the dynamics on the boat. P2 reminded me of my father in some ways. Both pilots. Both high-energy guys. Both armchair psychologists. He said something about the empty chairs at meals: we are not allowed to sit in either the captain's or the mate's chairs when they are not joining us at the table. This is definitely up there on my list of Stupid Boat Rules. P2 said he guessed it was a sign of respect. I replied that leaving the chair empty didn't make me respect someone more - it was how they treated people, how they managed a crew. 

Before going out to the bar on Friday night, Rigby and I did dishes in the galley and talked more about this. He says you shouldn't question the captain, no matter what. I said, "But of course you should ask questions. That's the socratic method. It's one of the main ways you learn anything in this world!" But then I think the discussion boiled down to this question: is respect earned? I don't respect Captain Flash because she's a captain; though that's impressive. She didn't have to earn my obedience - I have to listen to her because she's my boss. But she earned my respect by being a good boss (if there are any Skanska people reading, you can say Great Boss if you want, with all caps!). 

In the 90s my grandfather took me and a friend to the Raegan library. Standing out on the patio, were approached by a much younger man who said he'd been the staff photographer at Lockheed when my grandfather was a VP there. "Mr. Hammond," he said, "You treated me and everyone on our staff with such respect. I will never forget it." My grandfather was flustered. He didn't handle flattery well. But I was so proud. My grandmother always had a chip on her shoulder because my grandfather never made general. She was always focused on the wrong thing. My grandfather hadn't worked at Lockheed for ten years or more.

Check Point

Eve tells how the old cook checked out at a certain point. How he started buying prepared foods. I can tell. I see the cans of chowder and ravioli in the cupboard. Instant mashed potatoes and premixed brownies. What does it take to make you want to check out? Maybe not much. 

When I was growing up, my father ran the house in an authoritarian style. We butted heads constantly. I never liked my father much when I was growing up. Not because of the rules, but because of the fact that there was no wiggle room for the rules. I never felt listened to. There's one story that's well told in my family about this. My father disliked the fact that we would not come to the dinner table very quickly when called. I was in high school at the time, and we received a big lecture on this. We were to drop whatever we were doing and get our hinies downstairs. So at the next dinner call, I came downstairs in my jeans and a bra and sat down at the table as if this were the most natural thing in the world. My sisters started trembling. My mother let out a half-gasp, half-laugh. I mean, it was sorta funny. But my father was not laughing. He was irate. 

Well, Dad and I get along splendidly now. But I can't remember the last time he scolded me. Possibly back when I was in college? The long and the short of it is that my mother's a great cook. And I love mealtimes. If it takes me a while to get to dinner, I've probably got a good reason for it.

Hey, Ma, I Wanna Go Home

So... where am I going with this? Do I wanna go home? Absolutely. I'm at a low point. A breaking point. If I was relieved tomorrow of the job, I would walk away, sleep for hours on a train, and wake up tomorrow morning on the shores of sunny Lake Onsted, ready for a day of waterskiing. 

But I won't. I'll try to lead by example. Try to address people the way I wish to be addressed. Keep trying to break down the system where I think the system is old-fashioned or broken. Then I'll turn down the music and play Bananagrams by myself. 

Friday's Menu

Breakfast

Blueberry and pineapple-whole wheat muffins and eggs

Lunch

Sandwiches, plus leftover mac-n-cheese and sweet potatoes

Dinner

Leg of lamb roasted in mint and wine sauce and rolled in cracked pepper. Was a bit strange. Maybe the wine was too fruity.

Twice-baked potatoes

Israeli cous cous with beets and carrots and onions in a mustard vinaigrette

Tossed salad with blue cheese

Transit, Day 2

The fog rolled in...

Thursday's Menu

Breakfast

Sour cream coffee cake

Lunch

Ham bake (like meatloaf, but with ham.. tasted good but did not stick together real well) on Pot Bread (we've shortened it from Bread-in-a-Pot)

Dinner

Pulled pork sandwiches, mac-n-cheese, sweet potato wedges with maple mayonnaise, and pickled cucumbers

Dessert

Apple and slivered almond tarts

Coffee cake

Ham bake in process.

Dinner was Chip's favorite so far. Here's his plate.

Transit, Day 1

Enjoying the sun as we got underway on Wednesday.

Wednesday's Menu

Breakfast
Grits, scrambled eggs and watermelon slices (? I think ?)
Lunch
Clam chowder with lobster stock and roasted corn (leftover from the feast the night before), and corn chowder for Captain Flash
Dinner
Chicken pot pie and vegetarian pot pie, as well as an onion-less pot pie for Captain Flash
Salad
Dessert
Electric energy cookies (the ones with peanut butter, oats, chocolate chips and coffee grounds)

Electric energy cookies

Chicken pot pie.

Bad Moon on the Rise

New guy, Neb, and P2 & P1, magnanimous fellows.

Although we were supposed to leave today for Lunenburg, at muster we learned we probably would be delayed another day. There were thunderstorms on the horizon and a new martingale yet to be installed. 

At dawn the temperature was in the 60s. I got up around 5:30 and took a run around Marblehead. I wish it had been like that the entire length of our stay. The town is so picturesque. I ran to the end of the peninsula, where there's a fort. It was so lovely out there that I decided to run around the fort several times. Then I ran back along the water, with Adele's "Rolling in the Deep" playing on my iPod.

Let the Lobster Roll

Sometime mid-morning our passengers, P1 and P2 came anyway and stayed with us on the boat that night. After lunch they said they'd love to treat the crew to dinner. But not just any dinner: they wanted to treat us to lobster! I said I'd make some Parker House Rolls. I was going to make chicken pot pies with the leftover chicken, but could easily delay that if lobster were to arrive. And it did - along with coleslaw, potato salad, watermelon and 18 ears of corn on the cob, which I sat on the dock and shucked into a paper bag - just like when I was a kid. We feasted that night. The lobster was by far the best I've ever had. Eve and Harrison and I were the slowest at the table, so determined were we to get every bit of meat out. I kept sighing throughout the meal. I was in heaven.

They also brought desserts, but I don't think anyone dug into them for a while. 

After dinner I made stock with the lobster shells that P2 had culled for me. Then Eve and I headed off on a quick trip to the market as a massive bank of black thunderclouds rolled in. When we got back, half the crew were sprawled out on the cabin tops, watching the lightning crack and picking out shapes in the cloud formations.

Lobster, lobster, lobster. Amazing.

Tuesday's Menu

Breakfast

Dutch Baby with apple compote

Lunch

Sandwich buffet with my fetasmic cous cous salad

Dinner

Amazing lobster feast (see above) - and I forgot to mention that they also brought smoked bluefish

Dessert

Treats from a local bakery

All Crewed Up with Someplace to Go

Fallen petals on a street in Marblehead.

Today was another day of change. We grew by one and it looks like Hawk will be leaving us tomorrow. When I talked with my sister, L, she agreed it would be a good idea for me to run through the current crew. So, before we embark on our longest voyage yet - first the three-day leg to Nova Scotia and then roughly 10 days down the St. Lawrence, here's who's onboard:

The Marlin is my name for our fair vessel. Our current leader, Captain Dashing. To navigate the locks of the St. Lawrence you need a pilot's license, and since Captain Flash doesn't have this yet, she has stepped down and is acting as First Mate for this part of our journey. Smith is our bosun, and I, C., am the cook.

In the foc's'le (or, forecastle, which is the cramped foreword sleeping quarters of our crew), we have Eve, our engineer; Rigby, our new gunner; Harrison, our assistant engineer and coxswain, which is the small boat we use as a tug; Neb, previously referred to only as New Guy on the Dock or New Guy #2; and today we got Chip. We will also have two paying passengers for the trip to Nova Scotia, whom I will call, for simplicity's sake, P1 and P2.

More about Marblehead
Today made me a little sorry to leave Marblehead - a town we barely had time to look at. It is super cute. Eve and I went on a walk and everywhere we went, people knew of us or had seen us, had toured the boat or been on a cruise. A lady walking her dogs stopped us to talk. The old ladies in the optomatrist's office were captivated and wanted to know more about our travels. Later, at The Landing, a woman bought us a round of drinks.

During the day I bought some truffle butter and bananagrams as treats for the crew, and chocolate and a copy of Moby Dick as treats for me.

But the highlight of my day came at lunch when Rigby told me not to buy an apron in Marblehead. "Why not?" I asked. Had he seen all the aprons in town and thought them ugly? Then Harrison and Hawk and Rigby declared in unison that I simply should not buy one. I couldn't imagine what all the fuss was about, but then Ms. Jane blurted out, "Because they already got you one!"

Monday's Menu
Lunch
lobster roll and onion rings at Maddie's
Dinner
I joined Eve and Smith, and Smith's friend who lives in town, and we split a lobster Mac-n-cheese, some unrecommendable noodle dish in a basket, and I had a bowl of French onion soup.

The Choice of Boat

Bread pudding out of old sticky buns.

The thing about change is that it is never quite as scary as the fear of change. When our new captain came aboard yesterday, no trumpeters hailed his arrival. No carronades went off. In fact, the whole changeover was fairly innocuous. 

So far the man still has the round edges of a Disney character, with his perfect good looks and muscular build, a deep but light-hearted voice and the eyebrow that goes up when he makes a joke. Though I was gone provisioning during the sail, with the Partridges, when I got back I learned that he had hauled in the 300-lb. anchor by himself. Then, after the sail yesterday, when his sunglasses fell off into the sea, he put on a wetsuit and jumped in after them, saying, "Where my sunglasses go, I must follow."

I am toying with calling him Captain Dashing, but the foc's'le is outvoting me. (Hey, but this is my story, right?) 

Shortly before Captain Dashing's arrival, I was talking to Captain Flash about the fact that in my previous jobs, I chose to work for a person, a boss, and that when I chose to work on the Marlin, I was choosing to work with her. That's why I called to ask her questions about her management style. But she was my boss for barely a month. It's a strange feeling to be attached to a contract, and not a leader.

"Yeah, in this industry your shipmates and your captain are changing all the time," she said. "You can't choose where to work because of those factors, what you're choosing is the boat."

Bread pudding out of old sticky buns.

Our Marblehead Sponsors
I found out yesterday that the Partridges are the reason we received such a big welcome in this town. Their son once worked on the Marlin and now works on the Argo. Mr. Partridge did a lot of PR ahead of time, which just goes to show you: advertising works. Yesterday they took me provisioning and I stocked up big-time for our venture into foreign waters. I spent $750 to be exact. At least 50 pounds of protein went into the freezer, along with a few special items - like scallops and shrimp - because I had some cushion in my budget. (I also managed to get us a quart of maple syrup and a lamb roast!) Mrs. Partridge bought us avocados and Mr. Partridge got me a harness to rope me in if we encounter high seas.

Fear of the Cold
At muster he said he hoped we were prepared for the cold. Our trip to Nova Scotia is just 48 hours away. As I type this, I have gloves on. I'm in my sleeping bag with a wool blanket over me, and I am still wearing my west marine jacket and jeans because it's too cold to change. It's too cold to type. And we're heading north 300 miles. Am I prepared for this? Hell, no. 

I look at my friend CB's photos from her hike up Denali, of her and a friend sitting on ice cube chairs playing scrabble. Apparently temperatures reached 30 below! Then I tell myself, Buff up you wimp! But man I can't wait to get to Toledo.

New Beginnings
After yesterday's headline, you may be asking the question, so, did nothing really change? Maybe nothing changed; maybe everything. Did the Near Miss with the Rapture change you? Did you wake up the next morning thinking, "Hey, I'm still here! and/or I don't see any fireballs... hey, maybe I should do something great with this big life extension I just got."

It feels like we got a new start. The crew is readjusting, reassimilating. The growing pains are almost over. I think we will be something new, soon... not exactly what we were, but probably not that far off.


Sunday's Menu
Breakfast
Bread pudding made with the leftover sticky buns awesome!) And cantaloupe
Lunch
Pork stirfry, with shrimp (mostly for Eve)
Bread
Warm spinach salad with bacon, hard-boiled eggs and mushrooms
Dinner
Soft tacos with ready-baked chicken from Costco
Dessert
Banana bread

Tomorrow, Everything Will Change (and I'm not talking about the rapture)

Chubby Hubby Blondie, post-rapture.>

Chubby Hubby Blondie, pre-rapture.

Tomorrow is one of the most talked about days in my short history aboard the Marlin. 

There is a boat in the tall ship world that has more mythic proportions than the others. It's been under the command of the same man for many years, and this man has god-like stature among most every sailor I have met. Let's make it easy and call him Jason, making his ship the Argo. Naturally, if you want to know how to sail - if you truly have the stuff a tall ship sailor is made of - your goal is to sail on this boat, under this man's command. 

On the flipside, there are the stories of those who don't make it. Neophytes that can't throw themselves right in a sweatpile, are afraid of heights, or can't tie the right knot for the right application. They are forced out. Not so strange. If you can't be best at what you do, you might as well go play with the other neophytes. Give your sacred space on the Argo to someone who will tie the right knot and climb the shrouds in heavy storms without hesitation.

As would happen, Jason has a protege. And that man is the man who will begin captaining our ship tomorrow. Captain Flash will step down and become first mate. Ms. Jane, our current mate, will leave for the greener pastures of New Jersey, and Smith will still be our beloved bosun. 

Tri-berry scones.

Stories I've heard about our new captain reference his incredible strength, his intolerance of underperformance, his charm, and his knowledge of all things boat-related. He and Captain Flash are close friends. 

But I have a feeling they have different leadership styles. Captain Flash runs the ship with a light touch - a distinctly feminine ease. She makes jokes at musters and mealtimes. She doesn't take up a lot of space unless she needs to - or when she is being funny. It's the kind of leadership, not of absentia, but of someone who trusts and relies upon her mates. If her leadership were to take a visual form, it would look like concentric circles emanating out around her. I like it. I thrive under this kind of leader. I am not sure how I am going to like a strong, male captain. I'm afraid of him being one of those men who takes his superiority for granted and who likes the sound of his own voice; for whom might makes almost always right; and for whom it's either their way or the highway. I'm afraid of those concentric circles looking more like one big huge circle emanating from the aft cabin.  

You can see why tomorrow is going to be a big day. Tomorrow, everything will change. 

Pork wok.

Saturday's Menu
Breakfast
Scones with berries (dried cranberries and currants and frozen blueberries)
Leftover bread pudding
Cantaloupe 
Lunch
Build your own sandwich, with leftover roast beef, mashed potatoes and gravy, and a horseradish cream; bologna and American cheese; bree and fig jam; chicken liver pate and onions
On homemade honey wheat bread
Dinner
Pork marinated in ginger and soy sauce
Broccoli, zucchini and yellow squash sauteed in the same sauce, but served separately for Eve
Brown rice
Bread in a pot
Tossed salad
Dessert
Chubby Hubby Blondies - So, yesterday was Ms. Jane's birthday and because of an old memory she shares with Captain Flash, Cap got her all the ingredients for Chubby Hubby: malt balls, pretzels, chocolate, and peanut butter. But it was really not that easy to see what to do with it. So today I googled it, and roughly followed a recipe for it. It turned out a little strange in form/texture (very gooey), but was still enjoyed by all. 

New Guy on the Dock

Red beans, just before they turned thick.

Sometime after the crew had finished building a massive new gangway and but just before lunch, Rigby spied a guy walking confidently down toward the dock with a backpack. We all knew we were getting more crew before the upcoming transit to Lunenberg, Nova Scotia, but we didn't know anyone was coming today. I think our first reaction was, "Who does he think he is (because he's not Bly!)?" But New Guy #2 was on the boat before you could say lickety split, was shown his bunk, given a set of funnies to wear and put to work. At this moment we're underway on our day sail, and he's already participated in taking up heaving lines and fenders and, for all I know, he'd joined every sweatpile on deck. 

I don't have a name for him yet, but it'll come. He's staying for three months - so New Guy #2 is definitely going to become part of our crew. 

Out on the deck I can hear Rigby trying on the gunman's speech for size. He makes a few outrageous gaffs ("Now, the moment you've all been waiting for... my speech!"), but he'll settle into it. Just as happened yesterday, the sky has cleared just long enough for our sail. It's a lovely day in the sound outside Marblehead.

My bread in a pot turned out particularly lovely today.

Friday's Menu
Breakfast
Bread pudding with dates and cardamom
Smoothies with applesauce, orange juice, yogurt, milk, frozen strawberries and blueberries, coconut, banana, vanilla and cinnamon
Lunch
Red beans and rice (a veggie version too) (Before lunch Cap saw me making it and said, "There's no ham hock in red beans and rice." She lived in New Orleans once, so I trust her. But Emeril says... I told her she'd have to write down her recipe. But later, after lunch, she said, "You can make that again." It was the first time she'd ever said that to me. I let out a big yahoo! Emeril's red beans with ham hock: http://www.foodnetwork.com/recipes/emeril-lagasse/red-beans-and-rice-recipe2/index.html

Bread in a pot
Carrot sticks
Dinner
Apparently, the Chamber of Commerce has chartered the Marlin this evening and has invited us to take part in their meal. And again I say, Yahoo!
Dessert
It's Ms. Jane's birthday, so I'm making Jean Georges' molten chocolate cake. 

Something's Missing

The original crew of the Marlin(at least in my view),
minus Kip. From left: Smith, Rigby, Harrison, Bly and Eve.

When we walked into The Landing restaurant last night, it felt like half the town of Marblehead was there to welcome us. There was the predictable bagpipe player (though why bagpipes serenade us at every port, we can't figure out). There was the unofficial mayor of Marblehead, a woman in her 70s that had us each sign her America's Cup book (?). Several of The Landing's owners were there, including Bob, who ordered us all a round of beers on the house and then picked up the tab for our dinners! It was by far the warmest welcome we've had anywhere. 

It was Bly's last night, and an old friend of his came to pick him up. (Coincidentally, this old friend had worked briefly on The Neverland, my first boat.) Toward the end of the evening, once Bly had gone back to the boat and finished packing, Harrison bought a round of Southern Comfort to toast him off. Then we each said our good-byes. "Calvin beats Hope," I said, referencing our alma maters and their age-old rivalry. Bly called me out. "Is that the best you've got?" Then he said some stuff about how he'd eaten the best two months' of food of his life and been introduced to all kinds of new dishes. 

Bly in action.>

So, a day late, here's what I got. Bly made me laugh, a lot. And he laughed at my jokes, too. He was always cracking a shy smile; always upbeat; patient or just quiet in regards to the faults of others; driven; and reliable. I think he said thank you after every meal - and would say it later if he forgot. On Easter, he texted me later to say thanks. That's just the kind of stand-up guy he is.

Down One Good Man
Even though our last passenger showed up at 7:30 bearing two boxes filled with the World's Best Sticky Buns, the mood at the breakfast table was unusually somber. Harrison was waiting for me to ask what was missing at the table, just so he could use Bly's line from the day after Kip's departure. I didn't want to set him up. I didn't want to play. I know I've been alluding to his leaving for a few weeks, but I don't think any of us were really prepared. I've only known Bly a short two months; the rest of the crew knew him slightly longer. But he got to us. 

Red onions and parsnips.

The deckhands told Bly stories all morning, while they polished brass and cleaned belowdecks. While stowing fenders and putting the gangway in place, they missed his muscle. At dinner someone quoted him when Cap asked what it was like to know her. "Uh. Slightly less fun than it is to be you," Bly had said, with that characteristic upward lilt at the end of his sentence, so it sounded almost like a question.

Warming up to Ol' Dies'
We sailed today, and the stove went out. It was about time I cleaned it. I was just putting off the inevitable. So while the rest of the crew entertained an evening tour of realtors, I armed myself with an old screwdriver, a spoon and a metal brush, rolled up my sleeves, put on my plastic gloves, and went to town on the stove. And wouldn't ya know, she started on the first try. It might have had to do with the fact that I turned on my "Fire" mix, and all the foc's'le dwellers joined in with Johnny Cash: "I fell into a burning ring of fire. And it burned, burned, burned, as the flames rose higher. And it burned, burned, burned, the ring of fire, the ring of fire."

Roast beef and potatoes.>

Thursday's Menu
Breakfast
Eggs, bacon, red potatoes
World's best sticky buns - the dough was light and feathery and the sugar felt almost like it had been spun, or crystalized.
Lunch
Linguine with marinara sauce
Homemade french bread
Carrot sticks and celery
Dinner
Roast beef with turnips, carrots, onions and potatoes
Mushrooms with all of the above for the vegetarian
Parker house rolls*
Tossed salad
Dessert
Ice Cream

*There are a few bread recipes that I rely on. This is one of them. I use it for making sub and hamburger buns, dinner rolls, and Parker house rolls (where they all sit bunched together in a square baking pan. It makes a light and soft dough that is really tasty. One addition I love to add is cracked pepper, to the dough, and also later to the top, as well as salt. When making Parker House rolls, I put them in the square pan and drizzle butter all over. Then cover with plastic wrap until doubled, then bake. I have tried using butter, vegetable oil and olive oil. Vegetable oil seems to make the best roll for hamburger buns, butter for dinner rolls. I use dry buttermilk and reconstitue it. Here's the link to Beth Hensberger's Buttermilk Dinner Rolls.
http://www.recipelink.com/cookbooks/2000/0811816869_2.html

Lost a Belt in Buzzards Bay

Apple-cinnamon oatmeal.

Our engine threw a belt at around 6 o'clock last night. An hour away from the Cape Cod Canal, we had to drop anchor and wait like sitting ducks until Eve could repair it. Fortunately, we had spares and she worked fast. Still, we couldn't make the current we'd hoped to sail in on at 10 PM, so we scooted a little ways off and spent the night on the hook. Sometime around 4 AM, the crew rose and got us underway again. Bly got to steer through the canal, under Smith's command. The two of them were pretty psyched this morning.

Smith on the look-out.

It's been a foggy, cold day. Visibility at its worst was about .25 miles. We are pulling into dock now, and I feel a little bad, not helping. But they have plenty of hands on deck. I asked Smith where her period Foulies were, and she flipped me the bird. I think she would've flipped me the bird no matter what, but Cap is out there with nothing on but a frilly white shirt and vest. About ten minutes ago, it started raining.

Nevertheless, Bly got permission to load his largest charges yet. Because after we arrive in Marblehead, Bly will leave us. Seems like just yesteday when I was introduced to him in the foc's'le, his arm halfway down into a gap in the boards, trying to rescue his cell phone. I think I speak for the whole crew when I say he will be dearly missed.

Sometime in Marblehead we'll get our new captain, who will take over until the boat is through the St. Lawrence. Smith and Captain Flash have been talking about him for so long that he's acquired a somewhat mythical status. I feel like I have to name him Zeus or something. He's apparently strong as an ox, smart as a tack, and such a good sailor that Cap said she'd sail under his command anytime, anywhere.

Bly calling out to the masses gathered on a nearby hill: Prepare to fire!

Wednesday's Menu
Breakfast
Grits
Oatmeal with apples and cinnamon (I don't know why I make oatmeal - they never eat it)
Blueberry muffins
Lunch
Southwestern pasta, with kidney beans, chorizo, ground beef, veggies
Leftover lasagna
Bread in a pot
Dinner
We're getting a welcome dinner at The Landing!