In
order to withdraw temporarily from the responsibilities, tensions, and sometimes
boredom of everyday life, many people turn to such therapeutic pursuits as
light reading, soothing music, or simple daydreaming. A typical bus or train on its afternoon
commuter run is filled with people reading books, listening to music, and
staring out the window. My own withdrawal
takes a somewhat different form, but it still works very effectively.
My
son Michael often wears a tee shirt bearing the slogan, “Keep calm, and imagine
a place.” Taking this counsel to heart,
I not only imagine but remember many places to which I’ve traveled, and in my
mind’s eye, I see them again and enjoy the pleasant memories of them. One spot in particular returns frequently to
mind, and I imagine spending a day off from work there.
Located
on the North Shore of Long Island, Port Jefferson is a busy and picturesque
municipality at one end of a beautiful natural harbor. Shops, restaurants, a hotel, a park, and the
ferry terminal fill the downtown area.
When the ferries are in port, they dominate the skyline and command the
town’s attention. Far larger than
everything ashore combined, these vessels, like great works of art, naturally turn
the eyes of pedestrians to themselves and compel those passing by to stop and
stare at them. On a busy day these ships
arrive and depart hourly. I’ve watched
them for brief periods on a few occasions, but I’ve often thought that I could
easily spend an entire day watching them come and go. Until this opportunity presents itself, however,
the thought of such a pleasant day serves as my escape fiction, as temporary relief
from “the prosaic severity of the daily task that gives bread.”[1]
On
this imaginary day off, I take the first train to Port Jefferson and arrive at
8:00am. The station sits a mile and a quarter
inland from the waterfront, about 25 minutes’ walk, mostly through a quiet
residential neighborhood. Traveling
light, I carry only a small shoulder bag containing my camera, notebook, and picnic
lunch. At the docks, I get comfortable
on the wooden pier in front of Danford’s Hotel and Marina and fire up the
digital camera. The Grand Republic is entering Port Jefferson Harbor through the inlet
from the sound, and this grand event must be recorded.
On
the summer schedule, each one-way voyage across the sound lasts an hour and a
quarter. An arriving vessel docks in
Port Jefferson at fifteen minutes before each hour, takes fifteen minutes to
offload and backload passengers and vehicles, and then departs on the hour. In the case of the now arriving Grand Republic, she docks at 8:45am,
sails at 9:00am, arrives in Bridgeport at 10:15am, and sails again at 10:30am. This predictable schedule is followed
precisely by the three ferries on the route.
In three hours, then, three different ships arrive at and depart from
Port Jefferson, and after that the cycle repeats itself.
The
Grand Republic slows as she
gracefully approaches the dock. To
further check her progress and ensure a smooth landing, her engines are momentarily
reversed, and a churning propeller wash gathers around her stern. Gently, she touches the dock and is made fast. With
her bow doors now open, the ramp is set in place, and disembarkation
begins. The pier now becomes a beehive
of activity. A steady stream of
vehicular traffic spills out of the ship and onto the streets which bear it
away. Pedestrians trailing suitcases on
wheels go ashore from the stern gangway and fan out toward waiting taxis and
bus stops. A few cross East Broadway and
set out for the railroad station.
When
the exodus is complete, the process reverses itself. The lineup of cars waiting on the pier now
snakes its way aboard the ship and disappears into the cavernous cargo bay. Pedestrians hike up the gangway. A few moments later passengers gather on the
upper decks to soak up the sun and take in the view. The loading is done quickly and
efficiently. At precisely 9:00am the Grand Republic blows her whistle and
backs away from the dock. Propeller wash
again churns up around the stern and along the sides of the ship. When well clear of the pier, she turns and backs
down to starboard. The engines are now
put ahead to propel her forward and to port.
When this maneuver is complete, the Grand
Republic settles onto a north-northwesterly heading and proceeds along the
channel, through the inlet, and out to the open sound. Another voyage to Connecticut begins.
Watching
the Grand Republic from Danford’s
pier, I record her arrival and departure movements with my camera, jot down
some observations in my notebook, and review a few points in the company
brochure. Built in 2003 in Florida, the Grand Republic measures 300 feet long by
52 feet wide, carries 120 automobiles and 1,000 passengers, and is the second
ship to bear this name. Her fleet mates,
the Park City, named for the City of
Bridgeport, and the P.T. Barnum, named
for the circus entrepreneur who was also the first president of the ferry line,
date to 1986 and 1998, respectively. The
P.T. Barnum matches the Grand Republic in dimensions and
capacity. The Park City, however, is slightly smaller at 280 feet in length and
47 feet in beam with a capacity of 95 vehicles and 1,000 passengers.[2]
Looking
up again, I see the Park City herself
now coming through the inlet. As she
slows and enters the sheltered harbor, I begin a new series of photographs and
record this second arrival, discharge, reload, and departure sequence of the
day. In the fifteen minutes allotted for
the task, the exchange of passengers and vehicles is completed. Then, starting at precisely 10:00am, the Park City blows her whistle, backs away
from the pier, and maneuvers her way across the harbor and through the inlet,
bound once more for Connecticut.
The
Park City is followed soon afterwards
by the P.T. Barnum. This third arrival, cargo handling, and
departure cycle runs as smoothly and efficiently as the first two, and at 11:00am
the P.T. Barnum begins her return
voyage to Connecticut. With the three
ships of the fleet now come and gone in under three hours in the bright summer
sunshine and photographed on their port bows and starboard quarters, it’s been richly
rewarding morning. Now it’s time for
lunch.
Retiring
to the small waterfront park in front of Danford’s Hotel, I pause at the statue
of the merchant seaman that gazes seaward.
Few such likenesses of merchant seamen exist, and that makes this one
all the more special. On the statue’s
pedestal John Masefield’s famous lines are inscribed:
I must [go] down to the seas again,
for the call of the running tide
Is a wild call and a clear call
that may not be denied.[3]
It’s
always refreshing to know that someone else feels the same way about the sea as
I do!
From
the park I cross over to the ferry terminal building. Finding it surprisingly quiet inside, I take
a seat by one of the large windows that face seaward and eat my lunch as the Grand Republic returns to port. She repeats the same sequence of arrival,
cargo handling, and departure of three hours ago. While splurging on chocolate ice cream for
dessert, I make some notes in my book and photograph this grand ship from her
starboard side, a different perspective from earlier today. Then, with a noon blast on her whistle, she heads
out once more for Connecticut.
I
head out, too, for the nearby wooden dock of the Port Jefferson Marina, just to
the west of the ferry pier. From this
new vantage point, I observe and photograph the arrivals and departures of the Park City and the P.T. Barnum with the new starboard bow perspective. Next, the cycle begins anew with the return
of the Grand Republic, now at close
to 3:00pm. The Park
City and the P.T. Barnum come and
go again, too, an hour and two hours later.
I move among a few viewing points in this time to get pictures of the
ships from several angles. Finally, with
the P.T. Barnum passing through the
inlet and sailing for Connecticut again shortly after 5:00pm, I reluctantly
decide that it’s time to walk back to the railroad station.
On
the leisurely half-hour hike to the station, I contemplate the course of the
day: three ships, nine arrivals and departures, excellent photographic
opportunities, beautiful sunny and warm weather, and uninterrupted peace and
quiet in a lovely little seaport where the land, sea, and sky converge
harmoniously to inspire the mind and soothe the soul. Port Jefferson proves to be the perfect place
to spend an idle but productive day. I
learned this principle from the Italians in my Rigel and Waccamaw days. The sweetness of doing nothing—dolce far niente—but spending the time
well, even constructively and for a higher purpose.
I
leave Port Jefferson on the train at 6:00pm.
The ride westward toward the city is pleasant but anticlimactic. At some point along the way, I leave the
realm of escape fiction and return to the workaday world and its daily grind. My boss calls over to me. It’s almost time to punch out and go home, he
tells me, and then he asks if I’ve done everything on the list. The day has gone by quickly!
Some
well-meaning folks may chide me for my idle thoughts and seeming inattention to
my work, but I would counter with the
classical Jewish teaching that holds:
the Lord searcheth all hearts, and
understandeth all the imaginations of the thoughts: if thou seek him, he will be
found of thee (1 Chron. 28:9).
I
have long sought the Lord in both the vast reaches and the coastal shallows of
the sea, and he has always been there for me.
Furthermore, he invites all of us:
Draw near unto me and I will draw
near unto you; seek me diligently and ye shall find me (D&C 88:63).
Whether
aboard a ship at sea, along the harbor front, or in the memory and imagination
of these locales, our thoughts, intentions, and spiritual yearnings are known
to God, and he abides with us wherever and however we seek him.
Now for some photographs taken on real days off! We start at the railroad station, where Port Jefferson's heritage of the sea is commemorated by the weather vane on the cupola. This picture was taken on Friday, August 27, 2010.
Next we go to the wooden dock at Danford's Hotel and Marina. This structure serves as an observation platform when we watch the fleet's arrivals and departures. This view at low tide is from the stern of the Park City on Monday, September 11, 2013.
So close to the action! In this sequence of photographs we witness the arrival of the Grand Republic on Friday, August 27, 2010.
Between ferries on the same day, we visit the park in front of Danford's Hotel. This statue of a merchant seaman overlooks the waterfront. I'm very pleased that Port Jefferson honors its maritime heritage and my chosen profession with this likeness of a young man of the sea.
Returning now to the fleet, we see traffic waiting to board the P. T. Barnum on Tuesday, May 27, 2013.
Finally, my favorite sequence of photographs. The Park City backs away from her dock, turns around, and begins her voyage overseas to Connecticut on Wednesday, August 2, 2017.
[1] Joseph Conrad, Lord Jim, Garden City, NY: Doubleday
& Company, Inc., 1899, p. 6.
[2] Information from The
Bridgeport and Port Jefferson Steamboat Company, available online at
www.88844ferry.com.
[3] John Masefield, “Sea
Fever,” in Salt-Water Ballads, New
York: The MacMillan Company, 1913, p. 59; reprinted by BiblioBazaar, LLC.,
n.p., n.d. My mother, a career educator
in East Meadow, Long Island, taught this poem in several of her junior high
school English literature classes.
