“If you do take the ferry,” he began, “take it going to Nova Scotia and not coming back. It leaves Maine at 6:00pm and goes overnight. You can sleep, then, and get to Nova Scotia early the next morning. You won’t waste any time. Coming back to Maine, it goes during the day. You’re stuck on the boat for twelve hours with nothing to do but look at water. It’s boring as hell.” Here he rolled his eyes and shook his head disgustedly to emphasize his point. “I made that mistake once,” he continued. “I was bored out of my mind. Never again!”
On hearing this, I nearly burst out laughing! If only he knew who he was talking to, I thought. Twelve hours of looking at water sounded like a great day to me. I wished I had brought my Merchant Marine license to show him. I would have told him that I looked at water to earn a living for several years, and I would gladly do it again. I would most definitely not be bored!
This man certainly caught my attention and provided some amusing entertainment for me with his memorable remarks. Two decades later, I still remember this monologue vividly, and I can’t think of it without laughing. But I did not laugh then. Instead, I politely thanked him for the road maps, the travel brochures, and his professional advice regarding the international ferry.
As things turned out, we did not take the ferry between Maine and Nova Scotia. But in two summers of vacationing in New Brunswick, Nova Scotia, Prince Edward Island, and Newfoundland, we did make several voyages aboard the several ships that connected these provinces. These voyages ranged in duration from one hour to fourteen hours, and none of us were bored. On the contrary, we all agreed that even the fourteen-hour journey was too short and went by too quickly. I was impressed that four teenage children would unanimously agree with their middle-aged parents on this point.
Our first voyage took place on Tuesday, June 24, 2003, aboard the Princess of Acadia. This lovely old vessel sailed across the Bay of Fundy from Saint John, New Brunswick, to Digby, Nova Scotia, in a leisurely three hours. We all enjoyed this passage tremendously, and the children were especially intrigued by the extreme drop in tide that we saw on arrival in Digby.
Two days later, on Thursday, June 26, we sailed from Caribou, Nova Scotia, to Wood Island, Prince Edward Island, aboard the Holiday Island. This was a shorter voyage across the Northumberland Strait on a hazy, hot, and humid day. The comparatively cool breeze on the water was refreshing.
Two days later, on Saturday, June 28, we recrossed the Northumberland Strait from Prince Edward Island to New Brunswick via the new Confederation Bridge. While we recognized the Confederation as a marvel of modern civil engineering, we would have been just as happy to sail aboard the historic ferry that it had recently replaced.
Returning a year later, we sailed aboard the Joseph and Clara Smallwood from North Sydney, Nova Scotia, to Argentia, Newfoundland, on Monday, June 21, 2004. This grand voyage took fourteen hours and thirty minutes across open ocean. I had been concerned that our four teenagers’ interest would not last for this duration, but it did. They all loved it and wanted to do it again.
A week later, we did do it again. On Sunday, June 27, we sailed aboard the Lief Ericson from Port-aux-Basques, Newfoundland, to North Sydney, Nova Scotia. A shorter voyage of only six hours, it seemed slightly anticlimactic but was nonetheless a wonderful way to spend a large part of the day.
In recalling these events of twenty years ago, I also remember a popular song from over forty years ago, when I first went to sea, and which I recently heard again:
I’m sailing away.
Set an open course
For the virgin sea.
I’ve got to be free,
Free to face the life
That’s ahead of me.[1]
As a teenager looking ahead to a seemingly endless and limitless future, I felt impatient to leave home and go away and get on with life, a life of following the sea wherever it took me. The sea to me meant freedom. It gave me the freedom to “search for tomorrow on every shore,” and to learn and grow from the experience. This experience, acquired both at sea and in port, inspired me to upgrade my license and advance professionally, and later, to pursue higher education in the humanities in college. Now, at retirement age,
I look to the sea.
Reflections in the waves
Spark my memories.
These memories of my seafaring experiences, “some happy, some sad,” have to a large degree formed my character, guided my thinking, and shaped my outlook on life, and they continue to provide a foundation for philosophical inquiry, reasoned analysis, and the eternal search for lux et veritas, light and truth. In this way, I have found many tomorrows on many shores.
Not content to remain ashore, though, I have taken many opportunities to return to the sea and again partake of the inspirational beauty and majesty of this unique element of Creation. When the opportunity arose to sail among the eastern provinces of Canada, my family and I jumped at the chance. Now we all have fond memories of these voyages.
In all the years that I have felt drawn to the sea, I have frequently sensed the presence of the Divine. This is usually difficult and sometimes impossible to articulate, but despite its inherent ineffability, the spiritual aspect of the sea remains undeniable. It is often as if
A gathering of angels
Appeared above my head.
They sang to me this song of hope,
And this is what they said.
They said:
“Come sail away. Come sail away.
Come sail away with me now.
Come sail away. Come sail away.
Come sail away with me.”
Whether standing on the shore and looking out to sea, or boarding a ship and going to sea, the experience is always sublime, and there is never any occasion for boredom!
Now let’s look at a few photographs of Canadian ships:
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| The Princess of Acadia approaches her dock in Saint John, New Brunswick, on Tuesday, June 24, 2003. |
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| The Confederation, as seen from her running mate, the Holiday Island, as the two vessels ply the route between Caribou, Nova Scotia, and Wood Island, Prince Edward Island, on Thursday, June 26, 2003. |
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| The view from the bridge of the Joseph and Clara Smallwood on her voyage from North Sydney, Nova Scotia, to Argentia, Newfoundland, on Monday, June 21, 2004. |
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| The Leif Erickson rests at her berth in the fog in Port-aux-Basques, Newfoundland, prior to loading passengers and cargo early on Sunday morning, June 27, 2004. |
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| The Abegweit sails beneath the new Confederation Bridge that took her place on the route between Prince Edward Island and New Brunswick on June 1, 1997, in this postcard view. |
[1] This and all subsequent quotations are from Dennis De Young, “Come Sail Away,” in Styx, The Grand Illusion, A&M Records, 1977. Found on www.AZLyrics.com, et al.; punctuation and grammar normalized.
"In all the years that I have felt drawn to the sea, I have frequently sensed the presence of the Divine."
ReplyDeleteAbsolutely, the ocean breathes with the Divine.
I recall when you once complained of how noisy life on land was. You made James laugh by saying something about how there were "always machines squawking at you," like the vacuum cleaner and microwave. As funny as the statement was, it was correct. The sea brings blessed silence, and in silence there is Divinity.
Glad you're writing again.