The Story Begins...

Sailing to Maine. Photo by Josh S. 

This weekend marks the anniversary 
of the opportunity of a lifetime.  
  
As a journalist pulled by the inner passion to put pen to paper, I approach writing from my experiences, not from brochures and guidebooks.  I'm inspired to communicate about the waking, breathing, living, day to day experience.  At times, it's the greatest thing ever.  At others, it's the greatest challenge to be true to the experience even though it isn't always pretty, inspiring or neat.  



There is an ocean of pain with the topic of the HMS Bounty, pain I am still sifting through and sorting among the brilliant joys of the experience.  In sharing my experience, I hope to provide a way to see, feel and make a connection for you, the reader.  It is only one glimpse into a few precious days of life aboard a 50 year old ship.  My story wasn't only about the ship; the ship was a catalyst that fueled inspiration and alchemized ideas.  It answered questions for me that I didn't yet know how to ask.     

I will go to my next life saying, "This was the best time of my life."  For me personally, sailing on the HMS Bounty was a place I was happy to be.  I felt a sincere privilege to be aboard, mixed with a weight of responsibility to write something that would compel people to visit.  After the ship sank, the magnitude of that responsibility became greater than I ever thought possible.  Even with the searing pain scattered among the wonder, I am still compelled to share.   This book is NOT about the sinking of the ship, or about the mistakes that lead up to it.  It does not attempt to address the unanswered questions that remain from the tragedy, including my own. 

HMS Bounty: A Star to Steer By is about my unforgettable experience that set a standard and marked me forever.  I feel a deep appreciation for the hundreds of Life lessons and the multitude of coincidences that lined up so beautifully for this amazing journey, and for all that continues to unfold, even today.   

At the dock in Gloucester prior to departure. Photo by my friend Barbara.

When I stepped aboard the HMS Bounty as crew, everything changed. 

The world has absolutely turned upside down since Captain Robin Walbridge was a guest on Destination Maine.  Never did I dream that sailing aboard Bounty would be a possibility, much less a fond memory to treasure.  





But that’s the way serendipity works.  It sneaks up when least expected and props a door open to a previously unseen pathway; one that led to much more than my best sailing dream come true. 

The seed of this opportunity began growing as I perused Facebook, after the tall ships gathering in Halifax.  A wedding photographer captured a newly wed couple in front of the HMS Bounty at night.  The ship’s image was distinctive in the background; her yards draped with swooping, froths of canvas. The night lights of the ship shone upward in the rigging behind the couple, the streetlight sparkling above them.  That image was a moment I'd love to create in my own life, someday.  

I felt sad because I’d missed the Tall Ships Halifax festival this year, the very thing that brought me to land here in Maine.  The lines were too long to get close to the ship.  Somehow, seeing Bounty in the parade of sail cemented the importance of the accomplishments and lessons of that journey.    

Bounty was heading for Belfast, ME.  I contacted the home office asked the unthinkable, but hoped it would work.  Could the Captain do a radio interview? 

Overnight, 25 signed ship tour passes arrived, to give away to listeners.  
The interview was unusual one, where something that was said really grabbed my attention, enough to ponder the heart of the person who'd said it.   If making a kid's day was the best part of the captain's day, what would it be like to sail?  

After the show, I drove to Belfast to see the vessel and meet the crew.  Somehow, I also convinced the Chamber of Commerce to let me have the very last available ticket for the cocktail party the following night.  The LAST ticket!  Good thing, because I missed Captain Walbridge after the show.  I rushed home to edit the interview..    

Bounty in Halifax. 

At the party, I met Captain Robin in person.  I gave him the CD of the show, and a card made from a photo I shot of the Bounty in the Parade of Sail in Halifax, 2009.  He asked how I came to take the image, and listened intently about my Tall Ships journey.  Traveling all that way with a dog and cat must have made an impression.   

Chamber of Commerce party, Belfast, ME.

With 100 people aboard for the event, there wasn't much wiggle room.  I kept bumping into him and we’d chat for a minute or two.  Then, someone would want to speak with him, and I’d break away and get more shots of the food, the band, and pirate attired folks making a night of it aboard this amazing vessel.  Of course it was tough to get the shots I’d hoped for, but I figured at least one or two would turn out. 

I'd had the feeling he was observing without being obvious, sizing me up.  I wasn't here to party, I was here to get a story at a party, even though I'd paid for the ticket myself. I'd paid to meet him face to face, when I could have simply left an envelope with a CD in it the previous day.  That wasn't lost on him.  

Captain Robin Walbridge in Belfast, ME. 8/11/2012.

It was time to get home and start writing.  I found Captain Robin to thank him.  This time, I was nervous because of the question that threatened to command the exchange.  I blurted out the burning question before all manner of reason could possibly intervene.  It was all or nothing.   “Do you ever have room for media aboard?”  He nodded and said, “Yes.  When do you want to sail?”  I was thunderstruck, dumbfounded, utterly speechless.  I felt as if the winning million dollar lotto ticket had just been placed in my hands.  

“Uh….wha…uhm, would love to!” I stammered, “But need some time to put this together.”   Captain Robin grinned, letting the magnitude sink in.  He'd been here before, watching the expressions of surprise cross the facial landscape.  He showed me the list of ports Bounty would be calling on the rest of the season.  Gloucester to Eastport, ME looked like a possibility, so we made a plan to board on Monday, September 3, 2012.

Standing on the deck, as we prepared to leave Gloucester Harbor, I'm chuckling a bit. 

The harbormaster is watching, he breaks a grin and waves.  Now he believes that I'm indeed sailing aboard the ship.  Standing here, I believe it now, too.  
A bunch of folks stand on the dock, waiting to watch Bounty sail away. 

It's the first time the wind has been right for Bounty to sail from the dock in a very long time.   Another new crew member and I are introduced and assigned a watch.  After muster, the we go through a rundown of the safety gear aboard, covering the bases: fire prevention, life jackets, survival suits, and the "man overboard" bucket.   We are also shown where the crew quarters are and told not to explore them.  The crew's privacy was important.

The safety tour was over; it was time to help prepare to get underway.  The deck was alive with crew, all doing different tasks to sea stow the ship for sailing.  This is such a huge ship compared to the Maine windjammers I'm familiar with.  It takes many hands working together to accomplish each task.   Help is easily asked for and also offered.  I'm immediately overwhelmed with listening and learning, keeping an eye on what is happening around me.  The first lesson is to keep my feet out of the center of the ropes coiled on the deck, because it could mean a surprise ride into the rigging from the wrong vantage point.  Time to put the camera down and help sea stow the cannons.  Enthusiasm takes over where ignorance leaves off, and before I know it, I'm engaged and learning; all signals are on in this new environment.  I made it through the first day, worked harder than I thought physically able, was absolutely exhausted and enjoyed every minute of it.   I found a comfortable place in the great cabin to sleep, grabbed my towel to use for a pillow and dreamed of coiling lines.