Log of the Grace BaileyAnswering the Call of the SeaBy Sandra Scott I don’t know if it is a ding in my DNA, or maybe it is part of our human primordial makeup, but I often feel the call of the sea. Somewhere in my distant educational past I had to memorize – and never forgot - the first few lines from John Masefield’s “Sea Fever:”
I must down to the seas again, to the lonely sea and the sky,
And all I ask is a tall ship and a star to steer her by…
I finally answered the call of the sea by signing on for a five-day sail on a windjammer.  I wanted the experience to be as authentic as possible so I chose the Grace Bailey. The Grace Bailey, built in 1882 in Patchogue, NY, was named for owner’s daughter, Grace Bailey. The windjammer once plied the trade route between the West Indies and the U.S., but she also carried Maine granite to New York City. The granite was used to build the Grand Central Station. The Grace Bailey was completely restored in 1990 and is now a National Historic Landmark. John, my husband, is always game for any adventure, so we packed our bags, hopped in the car, and set off for the long drive to Maine. Sunday: Day 1 Arrived in Camden, mid-afternoon refreshed and relaxed after two great days at the York Harbor Inn, in York, Maine, eager to set sail. Camden, a typical small Maine port, is very picturesque. The sun was shining, the steeple of the church pierced the blue sky, and the harbor was filled with a variety of sailboats. Checked in at the Windjammer office and found that boarding could not take place until 5:30 – just like it said in the instructions. Explored the town, had lunch, returned to the ship at 5:30 promptly. Lugged our stuff aboard – which took several trips.
 Captain JR Braugh asked Travis, one of the crew, to show us to our assigned cabin. Cabin is a loose use of the word. On board there is no relationship between the word room and roomy. The word claustrophobia comes to mind. We have stayed in hotels where the bed has been bigger than our entire cabin. John stored our stuff under the bed where there was a surprising amount of room. We all met back on the deck for an orientation talk by Captain JR. I learned a whole new vocabulary – hope there isn’t a test later. My favorite new phrase is “Charlie Noble,” the name for the cook stove chimney. “Why?” I asked Anna, the cook. She explained, “It is named for a British captain, Charles Noble, who insisted that the chimney be kept bright and shiny so his overtaxed crew named it after him. That one was made of copper. That was nearly 150 years ago.”
The Captain led a convoy of cars to the parking area. That was John’s job. The rest of the evening we were granted shore leave. Wandered around town. John bought a seaworthy book to read and I got some Chap Stick. Became acquainted with the other guests – 28 in all. Looks like a good bunch. There are three young lads in their early teens and a lady – sailing solo – in her 80s. This should be an interesting week.  “Rattle those pots and pans…” is not from Masefield’s “Sea Fever” but from the song, “Shake, Rattle, and Roll.” It was the first thing that came to mind when I work up at 4:30. Our cabin is near the kitchen and since the Grace Bailey is true to the era, Anna cooks on a big cast iron, wood burning stove. Slowly one by one we all made it up on deck. Coffee was waiting. The day is beautiful but not many of us had a good sleep due to the cramped quarters and the early morning wakeup call. All that banging in the kitchen ended up in an excellent and hearty breakfast, which we ate, crowded around the three tables below deck. A good way to get acquainted.
 After breakfast we waved to those landlubbers watching us on shore. The Push Boat maneuvered the Grace Bailey out of the boat-filled harbor never hitting another boat – amazing – past the lighthouse and out to open water. That was when the Captain and Gus started barking orders. Passengers are really the crew! Divided into two groups, we were instructed in the way to raise the sails. “Ready on the Throat. Ready on the Peak. Haul Away. Two-six heave. Two steps toward me. Drop the line.”
With the white sails full against the blue sky and the sea dotted with islands, I remember the next couplet from Masefield’s poem. “And the wheel's kick and the wind's song and the white sail's shaking…” No cell phones, no computers, no Internet, no television - just a wonderful sense of freedom and adventure. I was catching sea fever – and so was everyone else. 
 Just as things settled down the Captain raised the Jolly Roger and we took off across West Penobscot Bay in hot pursuit of the Lewis R. French. We could see other windjammers off in the distance. We caught up with the Lewis R. French and about a dozen other windjammers near Devil’s Island for a Gam – sailor talk for a meeting. All the sailboats “rafted up” for the evening. After dinner passengers went from boat to boat meeting other “sailors” before settling down to a songfest led by a family on the next boat accompanied by Captain JR on his guitar.
 A glorious day. Getting use to our home on the sea. We all slept better. After breakfast the Gam broke up and we headed set sail for Stonington, making a rescue along the way. Deftly the crew rescued a hat that blew free from the Isaac Evans. We even got a finder’s fee – a sunflower. The captain of the Isaac Evans arrived in the Push Boat to make the swap.
Walked around the quaint little town of Stonington. Gotta’ love Maine humor. One sign on the dock reads: “Two Hour Birthing Limit…” and the one next to it, “No Sea Sextions.” After yummy ice cream from the Happy Cow we returned to the Grace Bailey and headed out to sea after the crew hauled up the anchor using the windlass – no easy feat! Lunch was topside. Dessert with every meal! Anna really knows what she is doing! We all help with the dishwashing. 
 Spent most of the afternoon tacking. Everyone has comfortably settled in. The young lads are quickly becoming sailors. Some take a hand at the helm, some read, some painted, and others napped. We anchored near Hen Island for the night and went ashore for the most awesome lobster bake. With help from some of my shipmates I learned the messy task of eating lobster. Now I know why lobster was once the food of the poor!
Wednesday: Day 4 Interesting how adaptable people are. We have learned to flush the toilet. Like driving a stick shift car. Foot on the clutch and keep shifting! We get our exercise in the shower by using the floor pump to make the water flow. Raising and lowering the sails are now a routine part of the day. Woke to heavy fog. People took turns blowing the conch shell – the early foghorn. It was as Masefield wrote, “And a grey mist on the sea's face, and a grey dawn breaking.” Sailing in the fog was an ethereal experience.
John went ashore along with some other hearty souls for a hike on Warren Island State Park. Some people went swimming. Saw dolphins. The sunset was so amazing we all grabbed our cameras and jostled each other for the best image. Gus quipped, “It’s called The Sun.” This could go on forever! Anchored nearby for the night. 
Thursday: Day 5 Another beautiful day. A quiet morning. Spent most of the day tacking, helping when needed, relaxing, chatting with our newfound friends, reading, and napping. The young lads learned how to tie knots. Everyone enjoyed some quiet “thinking” time. A beautiful world without modern distractions. Saw the white steeple of the church in Camden as we sailed by to our night anchor spot – Job Island. We all know what that means. Today is our last day at sea.
Our “Last Supper” was a Captain’s Cookout – Steak on a cleverly engineered grill that hung off the side of the ship. Awesome! We’ve all gained weight. 
Friday: Day 6After breakfast we raised the sails for the last time and headed into port, lowered the sails for the last time, tied up, and said our farewells. It was a good sail, with fair weather, and new friends. Leaving the Grace Bailer I remembered another Masefield line, “I must down to the seas again, to the vagrant gypsy life…” I must… and I will! For more information check: www.mainewindjammercruises.com. First image by Barbara Hatch | 