That's My Story

Feeds:: Posts; Comments

July 3, 2006 by riplipboy

PIRATES I HAVE KNOWN – Published August 2004 – Western Outdoor News

PIRATES I HAVE KNOWN

As I write this, it’s one of those screwed up days when the weatherman predicted “partially cloudy” and we got a decent Baja cloudburst instead that’s great if you have a hot cocoa and a good book, but not when you’re out trying to fish.

Once after a fairly sizeable storm, we were walking along the beach checking to see what might have washed up and came across some plastic kitchen stuff, a battered cutting board and part of a boat’s broken wooden name plate that only said, “The Re…” and nothing else. It got me to thinking what poor bastard might have been out there as is so often the case just sailing around the Sea of Cortez. No registry. No real plan, just living the sailing life of so many ocean-bopping folks from port to port as wind, tide current and whim might allow. You know. You’ve seen these guys all over. There’s usually a faded tarp covering part of the boat; laundry hanging helter skelter; a rusty barbecue on the transom; maybe a rusty bike on deck; an old kicker motor and a dinged-up trolling rod with a Penn 6/0 lashed to the starboard rail. Man…this guy goes down and there really is no one looking for him and nothing ever remains except part of a nameplate and some things that floated out of the kitchen before the boat takes the big dive with all hands.

It reminded me of one motor sailor that dropped anchor in front of a little hotel I worked for on the East Cape. Often folks would do that and come into the little restaurant for a land-based meal and some terra firma. They all had stories, but I never forgot this one gent. Tall, lean, tanned and actually for a guy who looked to be in his late 50’s he’s one of those guys who actually looked OK in his speedos like a swimmer and not like a European transplant trolling the playas with a mis-placed self-confidence for chicas.

Turned out this amigo was almost 70 and I never forgot his story. He started in New Jersey. He had been a retired insurance exec.who went out on his weekend sail. Monday came along and he decided to keep sailing south. Called his wife and said he was going to stay out a few more days. A few days later, he kept going. Just felt there wasn’t much reason to turn back…just yet. Virginia and the Carolina coasts went by and every few days he’d call into his wife who never objected.

By Florida, he deciced to stay out another two weeks as the reggae music and trade winds pulled him along. “I never sailed out of sight of land,” he said. “I hugged the coast because I’m not that good a sailor and besides, there’s nothing to see ‘out there.’ After 3 weeks, I called my wife. We really had lived separate lives for many years. Kids were grown and gone. I told her to prepare divorce papers and she didn’t object. Except for a quick run back to sign some papers, it was all amicable and I kept sailing south.”

He kept going keeping the land to his starboard side then went through the Panama Canal and then north up Central America then Mexico and finally into the Sea of Cortez where I now found him having a big fat steak; some red wine; and a good chat as we watched the sun go down next to the big blazing fire we always had on the patio.

“What now?” I asked.

He planned to just keep sailing…maybe up the California coast and north to Canada and finally Alaska.

“Then what?” I asked.

“Then I’ll sell the boat ; buy another one and sail the other way, of course!” he replied with a grin and a twinkle in his eye.