Caroline's Voyage
Chapter 1
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Chapter 1.
My Dad used to send me cards and pictures from places like Norway and Scotland. He'd be away for weeks and months on end working on offshore oil rigs up there. I was about five years old when he didn't come back from one of those trips. He went over in a big North Sea storm.
The company he worked for didn't know, or wasn't willing to admit, what happened to him. His body was never recovered. Mom told me once that Dad was a risk taker. He took on jobs that no one else would tackle.
Last night I dreamt he was still alive and waiting for me in Bermuda. He was standing high up on some fort waving his arms. I'm late getting started, and I guess it's my subconscious telling me to get a move on. I used to pretend that I'd go and find him. Maybe that's where it all started.
Soon as I find the right boat I'm off. I'm heading south to Bermuda and who knows from there. I was in Bermuda two summers ago. I was one of the crew in the Newport Bermuda Race. I can't wait to get back, and go on from there to places south and west. Come and spend some time with me. If you live in Bermuda meet me at the dock in St. Georges or out at entrace Bell #1. I'll spend as much time there as I can afford; then I head to the Caribbean and through the Panama Canal.
Most people don't think I'll do this. “You’re a girl,” people say to me, as if I didn’t know that, “and you’re so young.”
I’m nineteen, and there are dozens of women who’ve sailed around the world by themselves, and at least one of them was younger than I am when she started. There's a teenager out there right now, sailing and surfing her way across the Pacific. Several teenage boys did it, too, and everybody around here knows that young women make just as good sailors as young men when the going gets rough. It’s a mental thing, and we have what it takes.
HI, my name is Caroline Banks. My friends call me Banks.
So why can’t I do this?
One reason is I don’t have the right boat. The sailboat I have now is an old, one-design racer, with an open cockpit, that I’ve been competing on for years in our summer racing series. Of course, I have a crew of two for these races, but I won’t have anyone going with me going offshore.
I’ve sailed this old racer to nearby harbors up and down this coast. The farthest I’ve ventured downeast was to Winter Harbor, Maine, across Frenchman’s Bay from Bar Harbor. It’s at the point where the coast of Maine begins to get rural. From there to the Canadian border there’s more wild life, isolated coves, huge tidal falls and rises, and a lot of fog.
Winter Harbor
The fog we get around here is much worse than the dark of night. In heavy fog you’re blind as a bat, and that’s the way most seamen find their way – just like a bat – using radar like the bat does and bouncing sounds off the places or things they don’t want to hit – or do want to find.
At night you have lights all over the place, in every direction, and some flash different colors to tell you where they are – and where you are. I don’t have radar on my little sloop, by the way, but I carry a small hand held GPS to steer by and a cell phone for when I need to talk to someone on shore.
I get around in the fog by listening to sounds and steering a careful GPS course to where I want to go. It’s scary sometimes, especially when some big motor boat comes crashing out of the fog, blowing its horn, and aiming right at you.
One of my favorite places is Swans Island which is out where Jericho and BlueHillBays come together and meet the Atlantic Ocean. There’s a small spot on the south coast called BurntCoatHarbor. I think the name came from some incident during the Revolutionary War.
Burnt Coat
Anyway, I went in there last July intending to take the Island Ferry back to where a friend would pick me up in her car. The fog came in so heavy that I was late getting in and missed the last boat. I was calling my friend on the public phone that was on the dock (my cell wouldn’t work from there) when I heard a voice from behind me. It was an older woman with her husband.
“Are you all right, young lady?” she asked.
I nodded and asked my friend to hold on. “I missed the last ferry. I’m talking with my friend who was going to met me.”
“Do you stay on the Island?”
“I sailed out here in my sailboat,” I told her.
“Do you have a place to stay?”
“I guess I’ll have to stay on the boat,” I said.
“Where’s your boat,” she asked, and I pointed it out.
“Goodness child, you can’t spend the night in that.”
I hunched my shoulders.
She turned to her husband. “Charles, get one more two-pounder. We’re giving this young lady a roof over her head tonight.”
I started to say something – stupid probably – but she interrupted.
“I’ll not have you spending all night out here by the dock in an open sailboat. Now that’s the end of it. Besides, you’ll be doing us a favor being our guests. We love meeting new people, especially if they’re as pleasant and attractive as you,” and she held out her hand. “I’m Pricilla Healy, and that’s my husband, Charles,” she said, pointing at the man buying three lobsters.
“I’m Caroline Banks, Ms. Healy. I live across the bay and back towards Boothbay.”
“Well’ you’re a very adventurous young lady, Caroline, and I’m happy to make your acquaintance.”
The Healy’s were summer people from Boston, and the husband knew my friend Betsy’s father by name, not personally. They had a daughter who was in medical school in Philadelphia. I had a good Maine lobster dinner, and we stayed up late talking about some of the places they’d been. I don’t think they believed I’m going to sail around the world.
The next morning we were still socked in, but I decided to take my chances, and set off with my trusty GPS and tide and current guide. I sailed northwest, staying inside JerichoBay. By the time I got to Eggemoggin Reach on the mainland, the fog had lifted and a beautiful day emerged. I reached my friend on the cell, and she met me in Camden about five hours later. I left the boat at anchor and hiked a ride into town with one of the locals. That was a long day with a few close calls along the way. Could the South Seas be any worse?
Maine Coast
Chapter Comments
If she doesn't own the right boat how is she going to do this? does she have the money? What would one cost?
Marsha
Posted By Anonymous on June 21, 2007 @ 11:48 AM