Laughing Gull
Sometimes being sentimental feels right...
I’ve been sleeping aboard the Apogee 50, down in Brunswick, for three nights now. I feel like I’ve moved aboard a spaceship that can go anywhere, but also has countless mechanical and electrical systems that I need to learn and master (the sailing systems are more familiar). Until I do I can only hope I don’t screw something up, and that I’ll be able to figure out what to do if something glitches. The previous owner, Jim, is doing his best to help me avoid any disasters by patiently and generously conducting daily calls with me to run through the questions I have written down that day.
The purchase finally closed early this week, and throughout the contract process the question of whether to change the name from Renegade was running in the background of my mind. I don’t at all dislike the name Renegade, it just doesn’t make me feel anything in particular. I started to consider naming the boat after Kali, a warrior goddess in the Hindu tradition who is viewed by many as both a protector and symbol of Mother Nature. In this interpretation Kali is seen as a Divine Mother who embodies the duality of Nature, which is both nurturing and violent. Kali transcends time: she existed before humanity started to remake the planet, and she will exist after humanity has done whatever humanity is in the process of doing, however it turns out. So you can see how Kali fits my vibe. Plus, Kilo Alpha Lima India is mercifully short.
At the same time, there is a heaviness to Kali, a dark foreboding. And as much as I think foreboding is justified in this day and age, and as much as I have dark premonitions of what is to come, I feel a lightness when I am aboard this sailboat. We are all seeking something, and my instinct (maybe it is hope) tells me this boat can deliver beauty, adventure and a certain equanimity in the face of an unsettling future. That doesn’t feel dark. It feels uplifting. So while my analytic brain argued for Kali, the rest of me wasn’t ready to commit. It was a stand-off, and during the stand-off another candidate burbled up from deep within my subconscious. This candidate was a name I had always loved, and had sentimental power because it was the name of a beautiful Sparkman & Stephens yawl (pictured up top) built by my grandfather in 1949. Laughing Gull. And as soon as I thought it I knew it was right.
I never sailed on Laughing Gull, but my mother and uncles did, including a cruise of Norway that was written up in National Geographic. Still, it was my grandfather who taught me how to sail and cruise, and I have long had a large black and white photo of Laughing Gull under sail. The picture often catches my eye at odd moments and causes me to pause in whatever I am doing. A beautiful boat can do that.
The rest fits, too. Laughing Gulls are common all up and down the Atlantic Coast, where I have spent a lot of time afloat. They are a handsome bird, with a distinctive “Ha-Ha-Ha” call. My grandfather, who loved puns, probably had a special affection for a bird that always laughed at his efforts, even if the rest of us might be groaning loudly in protest. The only wrinkle is that I have to offer apologies to whomever currently owns the Sparkman & Stephens Laughing Gull (fully restored and still sailing, I believe), for crowding in on the distinctive name.
The Apogee 50 Laughing Gull will take flight this Sunday, for a delivery back to the Chesapeake Bay. Brings a smile to my face, which of course is the idea.
Out In The World…
Cargo Shipping Is Deadly: the evidence keeps mounting that the enormous density of cargo ships needed to support a consumerist, globalized culture is killing all sorts of sea life. (And it has to be acknowledged that high speed ocean sailboat racing is also proving deadly for many sea animals). There isn’t really any easy solution to this tragedy, apart from a radical reduction in shipping speeds in sea life hot spots and a transformation of our buy it cheap, ship it fast, global networks. But I can imagine a world in which we consume less and value ocean life more, and impose meaningful restrictions (and stiff penalties for violations) on shipping. Just not sure I would bet on it.
The Epic Waste Of Industrial Fishing: years ago, while writing about seafood, I came to the conclusion that it is nearly impossible to eat seafood ethically (except maybe farmed mussels). And that conclusion only hardens as it becomes increasingly apparent how much waste and bycatch is built into the global fishing network that shovels fish sticks onto a billion plates. I used to half-joke that my solution to the industrial fishing problem would be to ban the use of carbon combustion in fishing (actually, that would be a pretty good solution to the ship strike problem too). Now maybe I’m serious.
The Human Condition: if you are a sailor and are not familiar with Webb Chiles, you should be (here, let me help you). He is now 80 and wondering what to do with the “dying” part of his life. And today he wrote a beautiful mediation on seeking and meaning:
I would not be young again if given the opportunity.
Once was enough. It was in my case almost more than enough
I do not know that I will ever again do or write anything of value.
Carol has said that she is tired of people asking her what I will do next and so tells them I am retired.
Someone once said that my job is being Webb Chiles and so the only retirement for me is death or even worse being alive and helpless though mental or physical failure.
So here it is. For almost all of my life I had goals. I knew what I needed to do, despite physical hardship, loss of love, and possible loss of life.
Yet somehow I am still alive and I no longer do.
Read the whole thing. It’s a gem and belies his doubt about the value of what he might write.
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