When I was a young man, about this time of year it was time to get the boat ready to put in the water. Dad always had a boat, some small, some a bit larger but they were all wooden. The ones I remember the most were built with the lapstrake method. That method required the driving of oakum in the seams. It was a long tedious process and a vital one. Bottom paint was usually applied each spring as well.
I just love the smell of an old wooden boat. The combination of salt, oil and the wood itself is intoxicating. When she sits in the water and creaks with the gentle swells it is almost like time travel. I go to a different place and time. The warmth of the cabin on a summers day is a good feeling as well. Throw open the portholes and you can hear the screech of the gulls or the lap of the water against the hull. It is an experience I have not had in many years. It is a sensation that my boys have never felt, nor my grandchildren. What a shame. It is a sensation one has to grow up with and into. Those same smells can be overwhelming to the unaccustomed.
The majority of " boaters " today do not know about that stuff. Todays boats are fiberglass shells. They do not creak and groan, water does not collect in the bilge and cabins are air conditioned. Preparing for spring consists mostly of removing the " shrink " wrap, power washing the hull and changing the engine oil. It is a stark contrast to the intimate experience of caulking that hull. The old days were definitely more hands on. Even the " lines " never call it rope, was different. My dad and those before him used mostly manila line. Manila has its' own characteristics and requires more attention. The modern synthetics don't posses any character.
My very favorite boat that Dad owned was called The Montauk. What a stately vessel she was. Twenty eight feet in length and about eight feet in the beam. She had a small cabin and the " head " was in the bow. It was powered by a six cylinder Grey marine engine coupled to a reverse gear. The exhaust stack ran straight up and through the roof of the pilot house. Her wheel was the traditional one, wooden with eight spokes. The " shifter " was just a long handle that you pulled back and forth. She could do about twelve knots with a following sea and rode majestically. I have her auxiliary bow light on a shelf on my wall. I am reminded of those times,and smells each time I look at it. The soft glow from those red and green lenses guide my thoughts. Arrg, it is a seafaring life for me !
This old sailor is moored now and will most likely never go to sea again. The best I can hope for is a journey on the choptank river. I can imagine cruising the river and enjoying that. Alas, boats are a hole in the water that you pour money into, and my sea chest is not exactly overflowing. It is not so bad though. I have memories of sailing on Gardiners bay off of long island. Memories are always pleasant journeys. They are always, smooth sailing. That wasn't always so out on the bay. I am aware of several of my ancestors that lost their lives to that bay.
Yes, back in the day the month of May would be time to start preparing. " I've got to get my boat in the water " was a phrase heard and repeated. Other projects would just have to wait. In some cases even jobs would have to wait. Getting that boat in the water was a primary concern. The " season " was coming fast upon us. It was a lot more work back then, but as with most things, the more effort required the greater the satisfaction. I think that is something that is missing today,we tend to rush straight to the " pleasure " without any of the " pain. " Some appreciation is lost in the process. Well it is time for me to " shove off. " I wish you all a fair wind and a following sea.
I just love the smell of an old wooden boat. The combination of salt, oil and the wood itself is intoxicating. When she sits in the water and creaks with the gentle swells it is almost like time travel. I go to a different place and time. The warmth of the cabin on a summers day is a good feeling as well. Throw open the portholes and you can hear the screech of the gulls or the lap of the water against the hull. It is an experience I have not had in many years. It is a sensation that my boys have never felt, nor my grandchildren. What a shame. It is a sensation one has to grow up with and into. Those same smells can be overwhelming to the unaccustomed.
The majority of " boaters " today do not know about that stuff. Todays boats are fiberglass shells. They do not creak and groan, water does not collect in the bilge and cabins are air conditioned. Preparing for spring consists mostly of removing the " shrink " wrap, power washing the hull and changing the engine oil. It is a stark contrast to the intimate experience of caulking that hull. The old days were definitely more hands on. Even the " lines " never call it rope, was different. My dad and those before him used mostly manila line. Manila has its' own characteristics and requires more attention. The modern synthetics don't posses any character.
My very favorite boat that Dad owned was called The Montauk. What a stately vessel she was. Twenty eight feet in length and about eight feet in the beam. She had a small cabin and the " head " was in the bow. It was powered by a six cylinder Grey marine engine coupled to a reverse gear. The exhaust stack ran straight up and through the roof of the pilot house. Her wheel was the traditional one, wooden with eight spokes. The " shifter " was just a long handle that you pulled back and forth. She could do about twelve knots with a following sea and rode majestically. I have her auxiliary bow light on a shelf on my wall. I am reminded of those times,and smells each time I look at it. The soft glow from those red and green lenses guide my thoughts. Arrg, it is a seafaring life for me !
This old sailor is moored now and will most likely never go to sea again. The best I can hope for is a journey on the choptank river. I can imagine cruising the river and enjoying that. Alas, boats are a hole in the water that you pour money into, and my sea chest is not exactly overflowing. It is not so bad though. I have memories of sailing on Gardiners bay off of long island. Memories are always pleasant journeys. They are always, smooth sailing. That wasn't always so out on the bay. I am aware of several of my ancestors that lost their lives to that bay.
Yes, back in the day the month of May would be time to start preparing. " I've got to get my boat in the water " was a phrase heard and repeated. Other projects would just have to wait. In some cases even jobs would have to wait. Getting that boat in the water was a primary concern. The " season " was coming fast upon us. It was a lot more work back then, but as with most things, the more effort required the greater the satisfaction. I think that is something that is missing today,we tend to rush straight to the " pleasure " without any of the " pain. " Some appreciation is lost in the process. Well it is time for me to " shove off. " I wish you all a fair wind and a following sea.
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