Introduction
Although the words are simple, the overall thought is quite complex. It doesn't matter whether you believe in evolution, or creation. Both theories support the idea that man is drawn to the sea.This article does not intend to purport the ideas of either theory; provide a profound answer as to why this is so; or debate the relevance of one theory over the other. Instead, the intent is more personal. This article will try to explain why I am driven to sail; in this case, solo across the Atlantic Ocean and beyond. This is an introduction to my personal life and deeper thoughts on the subject in an effort to allow the readers of this blog to put into context, the scope of this adventure.
Water adventures at an early age.
For as long as I can remember, stories have been told of me being drawn to water like iron to a magnet. My parents used to tell of times when we went to Marcellus Park. My parents took me out of the car, then set me down as they collected my sisters and the typical picnic items from the car. When they turned around... I was gone.Panic set in as my mother surveyed the parking lot and adjacent picnic areas. My father hurriedly searched the park; starting in the parking lot and systematically expanding his search area outward.
Just beyond the parking lot, lay an area covered with lush grass and blanketed with cool air. The ground gently rolled down toward the creek. Sounds of gurgling water could be heard, as its shallow depths gently flowed over rounded stones. There, just beyond my parents line of sight, I was happily playing in the creek with a crawfish in hand. I had just turned two years old.
During the re-telling of this story, my parents would see me smile. They would interject, "You could have drowned!" It seems that this was the underlying reason that I wore a harness and was kept on a leash while my sisters were allowed to run free.
A few years later at age five, I was at a summer day camp in Elmwood Park in Syracuse, NY. The activities seemed mundane. I didn't need others to make a fuss over me. I was, even at that young age, wanting to do something exciting. I overheard an older boy telling another that they should follow the stream to its source... a pond in the hills called Pogey; a pond that had no bottom. This sounded like a real adventure!
It was still early in the morning. I didn't wait for the older boys or anyone else. I set-off to follow the stream. Many hours later, after climbing steep banks and sliding on rocky terrain, I found the pond. It was a small pond, surrounded by a narrow patch of grass. Steep muddy banks led from the grass down to the water's edge. The water was dark, almost black. I was trying to find a way down to the water, but the banks never leveled off. They just kept going deeper and deeper into the water. I was walking around the grassy edge, surveying the pond, when a farmer saw me and came rushing over. He wanted to know where I had come from. I still remember the shocked look on his face when I told him Elmwood Park. He did explain that the pond was not very deep, but the sides dropped off quickly. If I had fallen in, I probably would not be able to climb out.
He showed me his cow barn and how the cows were milked. He let me taste the fresh warm milk, which I remember as being disgusting. After giving me a drink of ice cold milk, he drove me back to the park. It was getting dark when we arrived. He found my parents in the center of a crowd... talking to the city police. I was not allowed back to the day camp after that.
It was many years later when I had rediscovered the source of that stream. It was by a dairy barn next to the back entrance of the Onondaga Community College on Onondaga Hill.
Larger water adventures
In January of 1967, my grandfather passed away. My grandmother, who emigrated from Scotland, wanted to return home to visit with her family; especially her youngest brother Edward and his wife Rose. My grandmother explained to my parents, this would be a good opportunity for one of the children to travel with her.At first, it was thought my older sister, Maureen, should go. After all, she was the oldest. Finally, after much debate, my grandmother told my parents that I should escort her. I was the oldest boy. Besides, when my grandmother went visiting, she would not have to tote one of the girls along. Edward had four girls. So he would be thrilled to have a boy around and my grandmother would be free to visit, unencumbered.
The plan was set. My grandmother and I would embark on our journey to Scotland from Montreal aboard an ocean liner: the Empress of England. The whole family would see us off. They would then go to the World's Fair: Expo '67!
The morning of July 4th, 1967, my grandmother and I boarded the Empress of England. After saying our goodbyes and doing my best to ignore my parents warnings about proper behavior, the gang planks were lowered. The whistle blew three times. We were away! Actually it wasn't all that exciting. We were towed from the pier by tug boats, which would tow us for a good part of the day.
The journey took us down the St. Lawrence River to the Atlantic Ocean. It would take six days to reach Glasgow, Scotland. On days #3 and #4, there was a tremendous storm. I remember the Captain explaining to me how the stabilizers worked. I tried to look overboard to see them, but he said I would not be able to see them and he didn't want me to fall overboard.
In the morning of the storm's second day, the dinning room was bare. My grandmother and I sat at a table with another man and his wife. The room seemed so empty. The few tables being occupied were all in the middle of the room. The tables by the windows didn't even have place settings prepared. Everyone was sick. After breakfast, my grandmother went back to the cabin to lay down.
I was so surprised that my grandmother was seasick. After all, she had been on the Queen Elizabeth and other ships! At four foot eleven and probably 90 pounds, she was not afraid of anything! I didn't understand how the ship rolling from side to side and pitching up and down could make people sick. The steward told me to stay out in the fresh air and watch the waves that were far from the ship (I now know that fresh air and looking at the horizon helps to abate seasickness).
By late morning, I was bored. So, I went to the pool to go swimming. Now, an ocean liner is not like today's cruise ship. The pool was not on an upper deck. It was on Level 6; below. I was having fun swimming in the pool with waves sloshing back and forth. However, the life guard wasn't. She asked if I would mind getting out. She was getting seasick watching the waved bounce off the walls.
The next day, the storm was over. Slowly the ship came back to life. Later that evening, the Captain announced over the intercom that we rounded the top of Northern Ireland. To this day, I do not know why that announcement was made. I stood on the uppermost deck, peering into the endless blue with youthful vision and could not see land! "Tomorrow, we'll be in Scotland." my grandmother told me.
