Parallels between the Blue Ridge and the deep blue
Issue 97 : Jul/Aug 2014
I used to dream about sailing around the world in our beloved 32-foot double-headsail Cheoy Lee ketch, Experiment. You know the dream. Snapping myself into a harness in preparation for stormy sea passages under gale-force winds. Or gentle, giggle-inducing sailing, skidding down the slopes of 20-foot waves under idyllic trade winds. Or dropping the anchor each night next to cruisers from all seven seas, only to take off again the next morning for some uninhabited isle.
Then life got in the way. Marriage. Family. Kids. Jobs. Even a bout or two with nasty life-threatening diseases. Time to re-run the dream with a little editing. A few friends and family members, wise in their ways, had some sage advice.
“Take a hike,” they said.
What? That’s it? No more Miles Smeeton? No more Bernard Moitessier? Whaddya mean, take a hike?
“The Appalachian Trail,” they said. “Very similar to world cruising in your good old boat.”
As it turns out, they were right. But to prove this theory I strapped a 40-pound pack on my 65-year old back and started a 2,200-mile hike from Georgia to Maine. I had to give up after only (only?) 400 miles, but for 10 precious weeks I lived the adventure of a lifetime. It was more exciting than the TransPac.
During this landlocked adventure I would draw several parallels between the world of sailing and the world of hiking. I share them with you.
The biggest: it doesn’t take a major league disaster to make a voyage — or hike — memorable. A certain editor included this advice in her missive when I began the hike and it’s true. Getting up at dawn, bending on the sails (er, hiking boots), and heading off into what is surely the unknown is, in and of itself, an adventure worth sharing. Trust me on this.
Another: we like the solitude of the voyage. But we also like the social support of potluck dinners on the beach (or around the campfire). We can have both. Of the hundreds of people I questioned on the Appalachian Trail, nearly every one cited the social aspect of the journey as one of its major attractions. Yet the same people would wax eloquent — not unlike us sailors — on the one-on-one beauty of nature. The sunlight, the flora and fauna, the water . . . these grace hiking and sailing with equal blessings.
On board Experiment, we used to have a saying (it’s not original, but I have no idea who the original author was): “When you think it’s time to reef, REEF!”
Whether sailing or hiking, plan ahead for safety no matter what shakes out. During the course of this little walk in the woods I helped rescue two people in need of emergency medical attention. An outbreak of the dreaded norovirus affected hundreds of my fellow hikers. I shared food with colleagues who ran out unexpectedly. And I taught a 7-year-old to fish, in case he really ran out of food and had nowhere else to turn (pressure fishing if there ever was).
How many of us have not done similar deeds when cruising? Actions like towing a dink whose outboard had quit. Or helping a neighbor down the dock go aloft to retrieve an errant halyard. Or simply buying a friend a soda or drink at the local watering hole.
My beautiful wife of nearly three decades, Ann, never liked Experiment. “Too many strings to pull,” she declared. Like any dutiful husband, I took the hint and bought a fully renovated, simpler boat. Viridian, — a 1969 Pearson 35 sloop with refrigeration, radar, hot water, autopilot, and so on, — offered the finest gear available.
This brings us to the last parallel. You can enjoy hiking with an Army surplus pack, a shower curtain for ground cover, and a cheap tin pot you picked up for $1 at a garage sale. Or you can spend a small fortune at your local outfitter.
It’s the same with sailboats. Either way, you can have fun.
Gary Miller has had a long career photographing, writing, and editing for magazines, corporations, and organizations. Still an active freelance writer and photographer today, his subjects include photography, sailing, fishing, travel ,and video production. His last sailboat was Viridian, a beautifully restored Pearson 35 sloop.
Thank you to Sailrite Enterprises, Inc., for providing free access to back issues of Good Old Boat through intellectual property rights. Sailrite.com
