@john-crafton
The Journey
I sent some of this as a reply to a review I got on the song The Journey.
I include it here as a way to give a complete background to the story of the song.
I've been an off-shore sailor since I was a young man and it never ceases to give me joy to be out there where the world has a pulse you can feel at the wheel of a sailboat. The sea is like a fickle woman. One minute she's making you as happy as you've ever been in your life, and the next, she's trying to kill you. But like the hopeless romantic you must be to cross the sea in the first place, you go back for more.
This was a challenging trip to say the least and after the first two days of perfect sailing, it turned and tried to retire anyone out there for good. I'm a fairly accomplished foul weather sailor, but that storm spanked me like a red headed step child...lol.
I took my lead guitar player Sean and my eldest son John, both in their early 20's, on the trip, neither of whom had ever been sailing or at sea. They both thought it was a little nuts to be out there in such weather, but they never questioned my judgment or the duties they performed to keep us safe and afloat. I watched them turn from boys to men right there in front of me.
Four days of relentless wind and high seas are a challenge for a seasoned sailor. I must admit it was one of the proudest times of my relationship with them. They acquitted themselves as well as any men I've sailed with. With good spirits and good humor they faced what turned out to be a very perilous time with grace. I will always remember them as the men they became that week.
The Coast Guard was pulling seasoned watermen from the brink of destruction, and my new shipmates were as good as the test. The story of the Pamela Ann is related exactly as is unfolded for two watermen and their stricken vessel two miles off the coast of Cape May New Jersey in a storm they soon won't forget.
The trip got progressively more difficult for us as we continued up the coast on our forty foot sloop 'The Journey', bound for the protected waters of Rhode Island's Narragansett Bay. Most of that time was spent heeled over with the port deck in the water and six to ten foot waves breaking over our starboard side much of it in the dark.
A five day trip took nearly 10 and their faith in me, my skills as a sailor, the things they learned so well, and in our good ship will remain with me long into my memory. It's not for everyone to test their mantle in this way and after so many miles at sea, I am always humbled by those that do.
Johnny and Sean didn't cower...they are good men.
They will always have my warmest regards
John
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That was a great read John!
That was quite a lot John. For an ordinary guy like me, guess I'd only seen that in movies. Thanks for sharing and it did promote the understanding about your song.
John -- I can't swim a lick, but love the ocean. My father-in-law and my wife's uncle are both Maine lobstermen and scallop draggers (the latter limited to a short season in the dead of winter). Still, I've always loved going out with them, and I have seen just how fast the seas can turn.
My wife's uncle's boat limped back to harbor one clear, bright, windless afternoon, after getting slammed by a rogue wave in deep water. The wave hit so har, deck and side planks buckled and split, and the boat spun from the force of the blow. He managed to keep it afloat somehow, and brought her in, but just barely. And these are typically small boatd -- maybe 36-feet on average.
One time I went scalloping with my father-in-law (Percy) and wife's uncle (Sammy) in January. Seas were calm but the skies were gray. While we were in between setting drags, I went in the boathouse to try and warm my hands. Suddenly we were bouncing around like a cork -- when I stuck my head out, we were in the middle of a major winter squall that turned into a blizzard.
Sammy pointed that boat to shore, while we tried to bring the heavy iron drags up from the bottom. At times we were in a trough, with mountainous waves on each side of us -- way higher than that little boad. As the drag came up, Percy and I went to grab it -- the boat lurched with Percy holding on the drag, and the drag swaung back away from the boat. I wrapped my arm around a bean, supporting the dragging rig, and managed to get my other hand on Percy's coat collar -- it was the only thing that kept him from going over the side with the drag.
We managed to make it in. Nobody on that boatd could swim, and as thgey say, it wouldn't have mattered. Once overboard in those frigid winter waters, your chance of surviving is minimal. Percy lost his best friend at sea not many years later. The man went out to haul traps one summer day, and never returned. They found his boat but there was nobody on board -- probably gone with a wave.
You learn to respect the sea -- it is far mightier than man.