Cast Drift And Lost
This post is solely due to the emotions that my friend – you don’t really know me so you don’t understand the weight of that word upon my soul –Â ichabod dredged up out of my memory by including a simple image in one of his articles.
I refer you, my valued reader, simply to this video – a rare glimpse of Canada’s Bluenose as she lived and loved upon the Widowmaker,
The Bluenose vs. Gertrude L. Thebaud
Years and years ago I stood the deck of the Bluenose II, which was a true replica of the original great lady of the Grand Banks. Standing there I wept. I wept with both the joy of her lines and life and with grief over Man’s casting her and her sisters aside along with the love of them in favor of the practicalities of modern maritime shipping.
I wept as I read and commented on ichabod’s article and I wept still as wrote this one.
I f you can’t understand why I weep without shame over the loss of these grand queens of the seas then the languages of our souls have too little in common with each others’ to ever truly understand each other.
I say that without reproach for I know that I’m a living, or plausible facsimile of living, atavism in this modern and needfully oh-so-practical world.
For those very few who will care, the Bluenose died in January of 1946 when she was gutted on a Haitian reef. With her died an era and large part, – in my estimation – of Man’s soul.
Tags: Bluenose | Canada | Fishing | History | Memories | Nova Scotia | Philosophy | Ships | The Sea
May 16th, 2011 at 8:02 am
Hi jonolan;
As a youth I painted images of ships and often went out on the local lakes. I lived on a sloop for a year and share your emotions.
One time during a storm, I was transporting five Americans to a portage to another lake. The waves were rough and the plywood boat I was piloting was slamming into the waves with tremendous force, but the weight of the fishermen and their equipment kept everything stable.
When I dropped them off, the boat became light as a feather and almost uncontrollable. The fishermen waded into the water to help me point the boat into the waves and I journeyed home.
Unbeknownst to me, a bush pilot was overhead, keeping an eye on me, it was that wild.
He came looking for me in the campground I stayed, and offered me a job at his camp transporting fishermen based on what he seen.
Ships and water are a part of our DNA. 🙂
May 16th, 2011 at 5:47 pm
Yes, ichabod 🙂 Our blood is salty for a reason. You, at least remember that whereas as so many don’t and think to master the Sea.