Out To Sea
Posted on May 16, 2010 with 0 comments
Out To Sea
©2010 Brad Dunse
One of my goals this year is to write a Stan Rogeresque ship song. Granted I’ll doubtfully even come close to matching the master’s hand, but nonetheless my goal is to give it a whirl. One of my favorite ship songs, though not a Rogers song, is one a song jammin’ friend nearly always garners my request entitled “Pull “her To The Shore”, an excellent piece of writing! With this goal in mind I’ve been enjoying a book telling accounts of shipwrecks and survivals on the Great Lakes.
Growing up near Lake Michigan for the most part, having spent a fair bit of time on it, one does gain a respect for it even though the seas I’ve been on haven’t come close to the wilds it can muster. Of course, there isn’t too many occasions to hang a fishing pole broadside amid a November gale. I have been out on calm summer days when it is smooth enough to reflect the sky as if a huge mirror, and also out plowing into the sides of large chops and swells gaining a much unneeded shower of cold blue Michigan water over the bow.
While reading this wonderful account of ship’s Captains daring to take one last trip for the season, assume their vessel plenty capable of handling the approaching storm, or giving under to the pressures of sea-hand’s ridicule of fear to cut lines and head for open sea—I began to notice something about the character of the people back then.
One instance where a ship swelling with Captain’s pride as well its cargo decided to bring members of his family aboard for a pleasure cruise as well, found his pride sunk and survivors rowing in a lifeboat amid the storm. One of the survivors being a 10 year old boy begging to pull his own time on the oars to give the men a rest. That is character.
Account after account of Captain’s indeed not bailing from a sinking or burning ship until his last deck hand or passenger was off showed incredible selflessness and character. As well the unfortunate washing ashore of two people, a Captain and a woman passenger where she was wrapped in not only his peacoat, but his life preserver and his arms in attempts to keep her warm and alive. Chivalry at one of its greatest sacrificial depths.
What stood out to me in reading these accounts was the tremendous adventure in life. Though at times, yes pride, stubbornness or incompetence came into play, but the thrill of jumping on the back of life and riding off into the horizon seemed to be so prevalent.
This adventuresome outlook on life, matched against so many recent instances of people I know who have encountered , some sadly yet as I type this note are in the midst of the grip of their encounter, of a slow demise due to cancer and the like, ignites an increasing fire deep within to live life full. To be honest, it would be wonderful to just cut the lines off the pier, sailing off to see things, meet new people, experience new adventures and sights… to live as free as Jack Dawson in the movie Titanic, holding up under a bridge one day to dining with elite another and all the while perfectly happy scratching out perceptions of life on an artist’ tablet. However that does require a “don’t look back” mentality living on the edge. What then? Does the fear of “not looking back” or worse not being able to return to a safe harbor prevent us, or specifically to my own heart, me, from cutting loose?
This “safe harbor” vs “adventuresome live life while you have it” seems to bring to a head to head clash not unlike the echo of Bighorn Sheep in the Rockies as they vi for mating rights. In some ways I’ve done both. The unsettled never knowing yet freedom of self-employment has always been in my blood compared to a steady 9 to 5 safety net. And though hunkering down with a nice home and providing a nice environment for my kids has been reality, we’ve also picked up and moved nearly the entire length of the country to our nations southland, “just because we wanted to try it and see”. We moved back due to some of those “safe harbor” reasons as well as family, but live with the continued wonder of when or where we might decide to chance new experiences.
Not being independently wealthy doesn’t allow for endless flamboyant adventures, and if that were the case, how much less of adventure would that be? If one played an opponent in chess and knew you would win, what would be the point in playing? Where is the adventure? The adventure isn’t often solely in the event it's self, but the sense of accomplishing it under less than guaranteed conditions to return to try another, spending limited resources you have on it.
Looking at the folks in this book, and the stories told, I realized that though these folks did indeed live with adventure, shirking danger, enjoying the thrill of the ride, all the close calls and ability to live to tell the tale… they weren’t out at sea continually. They came to port sometimes staying for months on end before going back out. They returned to the safety of the harbor to refuel, load up with more cargo and preserves, and then cut the lines and sailed to open water.
Looking at the life of those around who never leave shore? Well I guess harbor’s need pier hands as well do they not? That is their call and prerogative. The answer to the question that really matters is “Are you loving life on a daily basis?” Does the harbor have you ankle chained to the dock or do you genuinely desire to be there? If you found out today your tomorrow was limited to a known time frame, if you had X amount of time to live? Would you grab the nearest axe, swinging wildly at the links shackling your angle to the dock, dive headlong in the water, swim to and climb aboard the nearest vessel headed to open water? Or would you grab the nearest broom, content to live out your time sweeping dead Bay Flies off the dock? How might you live it? Same or different? Adventuresome yet not forgoing wisdom or consideration of others? Or the same tomorrow as you had today?
While the harbor offers safety, how does one know what safety is unless from time to time you stand on the harbor dock, stare out into the open water, breath in a huge breath of sea air, reach for the axe and cut the lines, then head out to sea?
©2010 Brad Dunse
One of my goals this year is to write a Stan Rogeresque ship song. Granted I’ll doubtfully even come close to matching the master’s hand, but nonetheless my goal is to give it a whirl. One of my favorite ship songs, though not a Rogers song, is one a song jammin’ friend nearly always garners my request entitled “Pull “her To The Shore”, an excellent piece of writing! With this goal in mind I’ve been enjoying a book telling accounts of shipwrecks and survivals on the Great Lakes.
Growing up near Lake Michigan for the most part, having spent a fair bit of time on it, one does gain a respect for it even though the seas I’ve been on haven’t come close to the wilds it can muster. Of course, there isn’t too many occasions to hang a fishing pole broadside amid a November gale. I have been out on calm summer days when it is smooth enough to reflect the sky as if a huge mirror, and also out plowing into the sides of large chops and swells gaining a much unneeded shower of cold blue Michigan water over the bow.
While reading this wonderful account of ship’s Captains daring to take one last trip for the season, assume their vessel plenty capable of handling the approaching storm, or giving under to the pressures of sea-hand’s ridicule of fear to cut lines and head for open sea—I began to notice something about the character of the people back then.
One instance where a ship swelling with Captain’s pride as well its cargo decided to bring members of his family aboard for a pleasure cruise as well, found his pride sunk and survivors rowing in a lifeboat amid the storm. One of the survivors being a 10 year old boy begging to pull his own time on the oars to give the men a rest. That is character.
Account after account of Captain’s indeed not bailing from a sinking or burning ship until his last deck hand or passenger was off showed incredible selflessness and character. As well the unfortunate washing ashore of two people, a Captain and a woman passenger where she was wrapped in not only his peacoat, but his life preserver and his arms in attempts to keep her warm and alive. Chivalry at one of its greatest sacrificial depths.
What stood out to me in reading these accounts was the tremendous adventure in life. Though at times, yes pride, stubbornness or incompetence came into play, but the thrill of jumping on the back of life and riding off into the horizon seemed to be so prevalent.
This adventuresome outlook on life, matched against so many recent instances of people I know who have encountered , some sadly yet as I type this note are in the midst of the grip of their encounter, of a slow demise due to cancer and the like, ignites an increasing fire deep within to live life full. To be honest, it would be wonderful to just cut the lines off the pier, sailing off to see things, meet new people, experience new adventures and sights… to live as free as Jack Dawson in the movie Titanic, holding up under a bridge one day to dining with elite another and all the while perfectly happy scratching out perceptions of life on an artist’ tablet. However that does require a “don’t look back” mentality living on the edge. What then? Does the fear of “not looking back” or worse not being able to return to a safe harbor prevent us, or specifically to my own heart, me, from cutting loose?
This “safe harbor” vs “adventuresome live life while you have it” seems to bring to a head to head clash not unlike the echo of Bighorn Sheep in the Rockies as they vi for mating rights. In some ways I’ve done both. The unsettled never knowing yet freedom of self-employment has always been in my blood compared to a steady 9 to 5 safety net. And though hunkering down with a nice home and providing a nice environment for my kids has been reality, we’ve also picked up and moved nearly the entire length of the country to our nations southland, “just because we wanted to try it and see”. We moved back due to some of those “safe harbor” reasons as well as family, but live with the continued wonder of when or where we might decide to chance new experiences.
Not being independently wealthy doesn’t allow for endless flamboyant adventures, and if that were the case, how much less of adventure would that be? If one played an opponent in chess and knew you would win, what would be the point in playing? Where is the adventure? The adventure isn’t often solely in the event it's self, but the sense of accomplishing it under less than guaranteed conditions to return to try another, spending limited resources you have on it.
Looking at the folks in this book, and the stories told, I realized that though these folks did indeed live with adventure, shirking danger, enjoying the thrill of the ride, all the close calls and ability to live to tell the tale… they weren’t out at sea continually. They came to port sometimes staying for months on end before going back out. They returned to the safety of the harbor to refuel, load up with more cargo and preserves, and then cut the lines and sailed to open water.
Looking at the life of those around who never leave shore? Well I guess harbor’s need pier hands as well do they not? That is their call and prerogative. The answer to the question that really matters is “Are you loving life on a daily basis?” Does the harbor have you ankle chained to the dock or do you genuinely desire to be there? If you found out today your tomorrow was limited to a known time frame, if you had X amount of time to live? Would you grab the nearest axe, swinging wildly at the links shackling your angle to the dock, dive headlong in the water, swim to and climb aboard the nearest vessel headed to open water? Or would you grab the nearest broom, content to live out your time sweeping dead Bay Flies off the dock? How might you live it? Same or different? Adventuresome yet not forgoing wisdom or consideration of others? Or the same tomorrow as you had today?
While the harbor offers safety, how does one know what safety is unless from time to time you stand on the harbor dock, stare out into the open water, breath in a huge breath of sea air, reach for the axe and cut the lines, then head out to sea?