A New Chapter

Evelyn--my piece of living history.

By now friends and family likely all know that I left my job at the museum—which was a hard decision for me to make because I enjoyed my job and I love the museum.  But I made the decision a few months ago, transitioned out, and had my last day in mid-May.  The unplanned “plan” is that if all goes according to that non-existent “plan” Lou and I will take some time to enjoy Evelyn and our life aboard her, and do some travelling—working as we go, we hope—along the coast, perhaps, if all goes well, staring this fall.  So perhaps soon you’ll see us meandering up the Delaware, sailing through the Chesapeake, and cruising to…who knows?  That’s the best part of travelling—no plan, no timeline, perhaps not even a destination.  But likely we won’t go too far, because we’ll want to return to Maine for next summer to work, and sail, and then assess…and, then if we enjoyed it, perhaps do it again…but if we felt it didn’t live up to our expectations, we’ll instead stay up here to enjoy the winter season that we’ve come to love.

What that means for the immediate future is that I am now working with Lou aboard the friendship sloops.  This summer I’ll spend most my days as Lou’s crew aboard the Helen Brooks, and a few days here and there helping in the Sail Acadia office.  The first month of this new arrangement was spent outfitting the boats for the summer season, which had its ups and downs.  The downside was that there was a lot of sanding involved, and sanding is one of my least favorite things to do.  Luckily there were more upsides: I loved being outside, even when it was raining, which it did a lot.  I loved working with Lou, having breakfast and lunch together, and going for short hikes on our way home when time and weather allowed.  And the last thing I liked was a realization I had that first week—something I knew, perhaps something I have even written here before, but it was nice to reconsider it in this new context.

A large part of what I love about boats is their history, their stories, the design, the beauty, the traditions, the

At the helm of the Helen Brooks,
a Bruno & Stillman replica Friendship Sloop.

workmanship, the lifestyles that belong to them and all of the skills and knowledge that is related to them.  There is so much tradition in the design, the building, the rig, the crew, the captain, the tools and instruments, the lore, the purpose of the boat (fishing, pleasure, working, trade, science), the pastimes…  So many of those same things—art, traditions, history, culture—are why I love museums—the partnership of new ideas alongside old knowledge, the changes in art and ideas, and a place to preserve the elements of these that we can learn from in the future.

My "ah-ha" moment came when I was scrubbing mold off of the Alice E. that first week.  Over the winter, some mold had appeared in Alice’s cabin, in the areas beneath the deck where it’s a little more difficult for air to flow.  Alice is a beautiful and very old friendship sloop.  She was first documented in 1899, which makes her the oldest friendship sloop still sailing.  Scrubbing mold is inglorious, but all those projects of maintenance and care, like scrubbing mold, are what have kept this boat alive for more than 114 years.

The Alice E. is a piece of history that is still working—at one time she hauled lobsters and now she carries passengers, but the story she represents is preserved because of all the people who have loved her.  Friendship sloops have a different purpose today than the one for which they were originally intended (most are pleasure boats not fishing boats) but a bit of Maine’s maritime history was preserved in them as their use evolved.  The building and sailing, as well as their purpose and rig, capture a bit of past and present in an object that is beautiful to look at, beautiful to sail, and timeless.

The point is, when I am aboard a friendship sloop, a Tahiti ketch, a catboat—any boat—I am aboard a piece of history, an evolution of skills, and I am part of the story.

Alice E., the oldest Friendship Sloop still sailing (1899).
I took this photo during the 2013 Southwest Harbor Rendezvous,
an annual gathering of Friendship Sloops.

It is exciting to be part of a boat’s story and history.  I feel that way aboard the friendship sloops, and I feel that way aboard Evelyn all the time, especially when we do projects and repairs that improve her and maintain her.  We are not owners really but caretakers for a short chapter in her history.  It is wonderful to sail a boat with some traditional elements—and to be able to share the experience with others.  But of course any boat is born from that maritime history and the ideas that have gone before—just as contemporary art emerges from the context of art history.  Like art, some boats and designs are beautiful, some are bad, some are commercial, some are idea and theory driven—and we all have our own tastes that cause us to love some and frown at others.

So as I dipped my hands in a bucket of dirty water, tucked inside a cabin scrubbing mold as the rain pounded on an overhead tarp, I reflected on how these passions of mine—museums, boats, art, history, culture—intersect in interesting ways.  With the recent change in my life I had not completely wandered away from ideas I believe are important, I was just approaching them from a different angle.