Come Sail Away

I loathe a parade.
When I think about parades, I recall navigating around Wiscasset on the Fourth of July or trying to outrun the frenzied parade crowds at Disneyland (Come on Goofy, take my hand, lead me to the world of self).
To me, parades typically mean crowds and traffic jams. Both tend to push me over the edge.
As a kid, I might have enjoyed them. Hey, people dressing up in costumes and throwing candy to me gets my attention and interest.
But the only fond parade memories I've had lately have been at championship parades for the New England Patriots and the Portland Pirates. What made those pleasant were that I didn't even see the parades. I had VIP access, hung out by the stage where the ceremonies were and had little hassle to deal with - other than the confetti in my hair. And, I got paid for it.
Friday, however, I found a parade even I like. The only traffic hassle was finding a parking spot in Rockport. The rest of it was smooth sailing, literally.
I went to the annual Schooner Parade in Rockland. Two years ago, I watched it from the end of the Rockland Breakwater. I was going to do that again, but the salty air and possibility of being on the water was too tempting for me. The schooner Heron was going to take part in the parade and they welcomed me - and my credit card- along.
It was a great way to watch all the schooners in action, and I got four hours of sea time as part of the deal. Anytime I'm floating (unless it's face down), life is good.
We sailed out of Rockport at 12:30. I'd never been on the Heron before, but it's a small two-masted schooner that was built by its owner. It does three hours sails in the afternoons and evening all summer. The captain is called Twig. Yes, it was Twig and Squig on the Brig.
It's a neat, sleek boat, and it was fun to sail on. It was in stark contrast to the behemoth Victory Chimes, of which I'm a proud member of the Captain's Club. I couldn't help but laugh when a person from away helped Twig with the halyards and raise the sails. It was a simple two-man operation. The helper was a bit winded and wasn't sure if he should have volunteered to have to work so hard. On the Victory Chimes, it takes over a dozen of us to raise the three sails. On the Heron, Twig had one of his young daughter's help with the headsails.
Being accustomed to the large deck space of the Chimes, the tight confines of the Heron made it a challenge to maneuver, especially on the bow where the boom of the staysail and I were dancing and jousting all afternoon. I only got hit in the back once and ducked just in time later when it was swinging for my head as I tried to change my camera's media card amidst a tack. Of course, there were no famous Chimes frozen turkeys on the loose either. (You have to be a Chimes veteran to know why that's funny!)
Once the schooners all lined up for their numerous sails past the Breakwater, we got in line as well. Most of the windjammer fleet were there. There were also some small sailboats and plenty of motor boats, kayaks and working vessels dodging each other. It was vessels galore.
Armed with my camera, I bounced between the port and starboard side of the bow, ducking and dodging the boom with every move. Everywhere I looked there were schooners. At one moment, I was torn between shooting this one or that one.
It kind of reminded me of when I'd shoot concert photos. Tour managers would typically allow me two or three songs to get some shots. Then I'd be moved out from in front of the stage. It would be a frenzied few minutes of shooting pictures. Fortunately, schooners mug for the cameras more like Kiss than turn away from them like Alannis Morrissette. I was in constant motion shooting whatever floated by.
I used up most of my digital media, about 200-plus photos, and most of my battery life. At one point, I tried to save on media space by vowing to not take anymore photos of the Chimes, since I have a ton of them already. By late afternoon, we were on our way back to Rockport while the other schooners were anchoring up inside the Breakwater.
Twig's wife brought in the headsails and furled them up. Twig and his daughter's handled the other sails. On the Chimes, it takes close to a dozen on each sail to do the furling, especially if we're trying to reign in the sails amidst a sudden squall in the Fox Island Thorofare. I think we lost one passenger that day when they got swallowed up in the canvas and was never found. More appetizers for the rest of us!!!
I've been watching the schooner parade/schooner races since I was a kid. We'd go out in my Dad's boat and zip around all the vessels. I even have one of those trips on video. The tape ends with the rumble of thunder and my Dad saying "I think we better get out of here." We raced back to Owls Head and got ashore just before the clouds opened up and poured.
I've watched a couple from the Breakwater as well. Two years ago, my brother and I raced up in his boat and watched from the dock. We charged tourists $5 to have their photos taken by the descendants of real lighthouse keepers. Okay, we didn't do that, but we should have.
This experience was different from all of those. It offered a very unique perspective. Even in a motor boat, you can't really be part of the action like you can when you're on a sailing vessel. We'd sail side by side with other schooners and take pictures of people taking pictures of us. I'm sure their photos are better than mine - because I'll be in their photos.
There's just nothing like being on a vessel like that. For those few hours, all that mattered was where the wind was blowing, where the other boats were, what made for a good photo and where I was in relationship to the boom - and the cookies. I can't think of anything that makes me happier. All last week, my back bothered me because I strained it the previous Sunday. That's why exercise should be outlawed. Yet, during those four hours on the water, my back didn't bother me once.
It was a great escape. It helped me escape stress and frustrations instead of be the cause of them. Not many parades can do that.

*By the way, the story on the Chimes frozen turkey is a classic tale of the sea. A loose frozen turkey, dropped by a crew member, rolls down the deck and injures a passenger. That person had to be airlifted off the boat because of clotting. The spouse threatened to sue, and the Captain had to file a report with the Coast Guard because of the rescue call. Fortunately, the turkey passed the required drug test. Like the Captain's Uncle Enoch stories, it's a tale I've heard numerous times but laugh hysterically with every telling.