Leave her, Johnny, Leave her.

It's over. The schooner is in her winter harbor, everything not nailed down (and some things that were nailed down...) has been removed from the boat and stored in the dock buildings. As we sailed back to the dock for the last time on a beautiful October morning, the captain remarked "Our lives are about to change so much" and they have. When I took off my chef's clogs in April they felt like they were molded perfectly to my feet and the most comfortable shoes in the world. After six months of bare feet or flipflops, the clogs feel oppressively heavy and awkward. I'm trying to take a few days to relax and decompress, but I'm already itchy to find the next adventure.

I wasn't able to blog the season like I had hoped, but I still intend to put my thoughts and impressions in writing here. It will probably take the form of short vignettes in no particular order. Names and places will be slightly fictionalized, not so much to protect anyone as to ensure that this blog isn't at the top of anyone's google results. I don't by any stretch intend to write a tell-all expose, but I also don't want to impinge on anyone's marketing or worry about what prospective guests might think about what I have to say. Rest assured, though- if you know me and know Rockland, you will know exactly who and what I am talking about.

My season on the Eyes of Kevin's was eventful, to say the least.

Stay tuned.

Foulies and Bare Feet

Well then.

It's been a wild ride. It's almost the end of the season, and I haven't posted a damn thing. I have an excellent excuse: this whole schooner cook thing takes up ALL of my time. On my long turnarounds, I have maybe 10 hours to myself, and that includes a good night's sleep. I still love what I do, and I have tons of news and pictures, and I will post them, but not until the season is over and I get a few days off.

Prepare to repel boarders!!!*

Yay!

I have returned from our first cruise of the season and nothing terribly awful happened! The passengers did complain about the food, but their only complaint was that they left five pounds heavier than they boarded because they ate so much. (To be fair, I tend to be a bit heavy-handed with the butter...) Once I got over the shock of the schooner actually leaving the dock I spent all my time either cooking like a madwoman or occasionally poking my head abovedecks to stare slackjawed at the overwhelmingly fantastic scenery. Oh, and sleeping, but I didn't do enough of that to really warrant mentioning. The weather was amazing, and other than a few learning experiences** the cooking went off without a hitch.

Highlights from the trip included bald eagle sightings, firing our cannon, learning to knit (I have most of a hat done!) and singing songs on deck after dinner. Wow- that really sounded like a line from and advertising spiel, but it's pretty much true. There were a few "I have to do this until October?!" moments, (mostly at 4:30AM when my alarm went off) but for the mostpart my job rocks.

I don't have a ton of time to write as I need to get back to provisioning and stowing, so I'll have to save some stories for later.


Ciao!



*Easy to do when you haven't had a proper shower in a week
**Shallow roasting pans are a bad idea. So are flipflops, and for the same reason. Lazy susans make great slingshots when the boat tacks. People eat A LOT more than usual when they are on vacation.

Remember: Pillage First, Then Burn!

"So I read the Man Overboard procedures and I think I have it down for when the Coasties come and inspect us tomorrow."

"Okay, good- you know what everybody is supposed to do?"

"Yup. If someone goes overboard, John points and laughs at them, you throw things at them and I take Brian out for a boat ride."

"You should totally tell the Coasties that, they'll love it."


Lest you think I'm totally crazy and endangering the lives of our guests, let me assure you that other than the part about John laughing, that is a totally sane and logical MOB procedure. In order to retrieve someone from the water, you need to know where they are, which is why John's only job is to point at them. The captain throws a lifering and beacon, and I take the mate in our yawl boat to retrieve the poor sodden soul.

But my version still sounds way better.


Our first sail fast approaches, and I've gotta say I'm pretty nervous. I've revamped my grocery list more times than I can count and found multiple sources for all my supplies. I'm terrified of forgetting something important and/or running out of food. On land, I'm the kind of cook who has to make ten trips to the grocery store for stuff I forgot. And that's whan I'm just cooking for myself. The menu I've come up with is pretty tame in terms of it all being stuff I'm very comfortable cooking, but I've cooked exactly none of it on a woodstove that happens to be moving.

I've also been surprisingly homesick for Austin lately. This is going to be my first big culinary opportunity "on my own" and doing it without the cooks that taught me so much feels kind of strange. As crazy as this sounds, I would feel a lot more confident if I had Asa and Drew and Will shouting at me for being an idiot or screaming "RIA!!! DON'T F*@K UP!!" when I'm trying to concentrate. But I guess they're here in spirit. And by "spirit" I mean "I stole all their best recipes and am taking credit for them." Hey- they'd do it to me.

I'm reading my last entry and I realize that I never explained what I meant by the subject line. In the space of two weekends, my captain got married and I sang at a wedding in Windham. I had something profound to say on the subject of weddings and a clever way to tie it into the whole schooner thing, but damned if I can remember it at all.

I was going to leave you with some beautiful pictures of Rockland and schooners, but unfortunately this computer soils itself when I try and load picasa, so you'll just have to wait. In the meantime, you get more shanty lyrics, because they're awesome. You know, scratch that- you deserve better. Check this out:




If you don't think that's flippin' awesome, I can do nothing for you.

Wedding Season

As promised, here's the update, complete with pictures!

We've been crazy busy with outfitting, and since my internet access is so sporadic, I'm not sure when I can update next. I'm trying to get my back fixed, contacts ordered, teeth cleaned and filled and ladyparts examined before we sail, so it seems like every dime that doesn't go towards food or gas is given to one health professional or another. As a result, buying a cheap laptop has been de-prioritized for awhile. I promise I won't abandon this blog and I will update whenever I get the chance, but that chance will probably only be every couple of weeks.

It's hard to try and sum up my daily life in Rockland in words. On the surface, it seems pretty simple- I wake up, start working on the boat, eat lunch, go back to work, and then spend an hour or two with friends before passing out, only to do it all again. There's lots of sanding and painting, and I'm still not convinced that the boat actually goes anywhere. But on the other hand, I'm noticing subtle changes in myself- I'm more tan, more fit and more energetic than I was when I started, and I'm also far more in tune with my environment. As a cook/culinary student for the last few years, I hardly could tell you what season it was, let alone what the moon or tides were doing. Now I'm starting to recognize the effect of the changing tides on the boats in the harbor, the position of the sun in the sky during the workday, or the direction of the wind. I'm still certainly no seaman, but I'm starting to be able to tell the difference between my ass and my elbow, and to see the environment's impact on both.

Here are some photos from the journey thus far...

This is my home. The stove is over 100 years old but recently refurbished. To the left of the photo you can see my bunk- close enough to feed the stove without getting out of my sleeping bag... almost.

This is my lovely assistant, John. He had just gotten into a minor altercation with the paintbrush spinner when this photo was taken. They have since recconciled.

This was taken at our "galley-warming" party. I'm not entirely sure what exciting thing was happening at the top of the ladder, but it must have been pretty darn cool.

Stay tuned, folks. I'll keep you up to date as best I can.

...and you thought I'd forgotten you

Okay, I know it looks like I did the typical awful thing- starting a blog, publicizing it, and then abandoning it after just a few posts. That's simply not the case. I have just been way busy doing wonderfuly exciting and stimulating things. Unfortunately, since I don't have a laptop handy, you'll have to wait for a real update until the 31st when I take a short trip back to civilization.

There will be pictures and stories galore, I promise!

Hairy-Chested Romance

The title of this blog comes from a dear friend of mine, who has not only walked in my nautical footsteps, but was in many cases one of the first women to do so. I have yet to find a better phrase to sum up the profound sense of nostalgia, beauty and tradition that seems to inform the thoughts and actions of so many of the people who are drawn to schooners.

So last night I was hanging with my mom at a church mother-daughter banquet when they had a unique parlor game. Our table won, through no help from me. The game was a purse scavenger hunt. We were required to produce such items as grocery recipts, childrens toys and dental floss from our purses. I contributed nothing, though if the list had been a little different, I would have kicked some serious butt.

Things I carry around with me:

1. Folding Benchmade knife
2. Steri-Strip skin closures
3. Super glue
4. Sandpaper (left in my pocket from bowsprit sanding duties, transferred to purse later)
5. CPR certification
6. String
7. Digital camera
8. Duct tape wallet

I've never been overly girly, but between my lack of purse contributions and my paint stained hands, I felt singularly foriegn among the perfumed pink church ladies. I can't say I didn't enjoy it.

In a similarly romantic vein, here's an old song about sailing:

Farewell to Princes' landing stage River Mersey fare thee well

I am bound for California, a place I know right well

So fare thee well my own true love

When I return united we will be

It's not the leaving of Liverpool that grieves me

But my darling when I think of thee

I have sailed with Burgess once before, I think I know him well

If a man's a sailor he will get along, if not then he's sure in hell

So fare thee well my own true love

When I return united we will be

It's not the leaving of Liverpool that grieves me

But my darling when I think of thee

Farewell to Lower Frederick Street, Anson Terrace and Park Lane

I am bound away for to leave you and I'll never see you again

So fare thee well my own true love

When I return united we will be

It's not the leaving of Liverpool that grieves me

But my darling when I think of thee

I am bound for California by way of stormy Cape Horn

And I will write to thee a letter, love, when I am homeward bound

So fare thee well my own true love

When I return united we will be

It's not the leaving of Liverpool that grieves me

But my darling when I think of thee

I've shipped on a Yankee clipper ship, "Davy Crockett" is her name

And Burgess is the captain of her and they say that she's a floating hell

So fare thee well my own true love

When I return united we will be

It's not the leaving of Liverpool that grieves me

But my darling when I think of thee

Back on your heads!

Avast!

It is I, your intrepid heroine, returned from another week in Rockland! After taking a (very) long shower, eating some lunch and acting as cat furniture for a little while (my cat missed me) it's story time once again. Today, let's talk about the word, "schooner." The first schooner was built in 1642 in order to more effectively hunt the elusive schoon. A distant cousin of the snipe, the schoon was an agile marine mammal renowned for it's soft chartruse-hued fur. Unfortunately, due to many factors including the effectiveness of the schooner as schoon-hunting vehicle, water pollution, lack of schoon-industry regulation, dutch schoon disease and the popularity of chartruse in the fall collections of Paris designers in 1709, the schoon was declared extinct in 1740. The schooner, however, continued to be a useful boat for more pedestrian pursuits such as smuggling, blockade running, privateering and oyster fishing.

Okay, maybe not, but I like my version. In all honesty, the process of educating myself on all things nautical is going slowly. There's a lot to learn, and I'd say that if there was a list of Things One Must Know In Order Not To Look Like A Flippin' Idiot On Your Schooner, I'd know about 5% of the items on said list at the moment. (side note: if anyone has such a list, email it to me. please.) But when I get really frustrated, I remind myself of a few things:

1. This stuff is confusing. For example- a bowline (BO-lihn) is a knot. a bowline (BAU-line) is a line, which is a rope, but don't call it that. There is a different name for every scrap of wood, metal, canvas or rope (but remember, don't call it a rope, it's a line) on the entire boat and none of them make sense. Even worse, nothing is spelled like it sounds, so translating between written resources and spoken directions is difficult. Folks'll make fun of you if you pronounce "forecastle" wrong. Trust me.

2. I've been working my butt off. I haven't had much time to study anything in my off hours, because there simply aren't many of them. There's just so much stuff to be done to get ready on schedule that there isn't much spare time for education. I clean things. I sand things. I paint things. I try to remember the names of the things that I clean, sand and paint.

So all in all, I think I'm doing alright.

The fun project of the week did (of course) involve sanding and painting, but I was at least out sanding and painting the bowsprit and jib boom (long pointy nose thing on the front of the boat.) Weilding my orbital sander like a conductor with her baton, I danced blithely over chains and wires, seemingly supported by only the air itself, or perched like a figurehead of yore, restoring the appearance of my proud vessel to mint condition.

Okay, there I go with the romantic embellishments again. More accurately, I spent a great deal of hours crouched, clinging to the chains like a nautical dingleberry, realizing that not only is our bowsprit a huge pain in the ass to sand and paint, but that many people before me have realized this and thus half-assed (or in some cases quarter-assed or even sixteenth-assed) the sanding and painting, making my job much much harder. To my credit, though, it looks nicer now than it has in awhile.

I'm starting to feel like I'm actually making progress in terms of getting into shape. I don't like to weigh myself, but I feel more energetic and a tiny bit less flabby. I'm going to start rowing (at 6AM! Gah!) a few times a week starting next week- that should be tough, but definitely worth it. I have an actual suntan for the first time in years. I promise I'll post photographic evidence soon for those of you (hi Sean!) who didn't believe I was even capable of such a thing. Apparently I don't burst into flame and turn into a pile of ash when exposed to sunlight!

Rainy day

Since I arrived in Rockland about three weeks ago, we have had absolutely beautiful weather. This has been great, as it's allowed us to get a whole lot done on the boat, but it's also kind of sucked, as every waking daylight hour (or so it seems) has been spent doing just that. On my weekends home, I've had just about enough time to do all the choir stuff that makes my mom happy and maybe do a little bit of laundry if I stay up late before getting up at 5 Monday morning to drive back here. As a result, things like getting a haircut, opening a checking account, getting new glasses, buying gear, blogging, getting my car registered in Maine, menu planning, researching food purveyors and shaving my legs have all been on the back burner for awhile.

Luckily, today the weather is absolute crap. We put in a morning's worth of work varnishing our rowboat and helping our carpenter with some big pieces of wood and were then turned loose to enjoy our "afternoon off." So far I've been able to knock a few things off my to do list, and once I work up the courage to brave the downpour and get some more things out of my car I'll be golden.

Rather than try and write about the last few weeks at any great length, here's a list of things I've learned so far:

1. The boat only seems small until you realize you have to sand and paint the entire thing.

2. If Jan says "Smell this!" the correct response is always, "No." Always.

3. Good shallots are not available in this part of the country, and it's a sign of dubious character that one would even want them.

4. A nine-year absence from the state of Maine effectively revokes one's "native" status, making me now officially "from Texas."

5. If the captain says, "Hey Ria- I've got a fun job for you!" the correct response is to don as much protective clothing as I can get my hands on before even asking what I'm about to have to do. [fun jobs to date: cleaning the bilge, powerwashing the hull (which actually was fun,) and cleaning the soot out of the charlie nobles (schooner-speak for stovepipes.)]

6. It's called a "boom" because that's the sound one's head makes when one fails to duck under it for the third time in an hour.

7. I am not in nearly as good physical condition as I thought I was.

8. It is not as easy as it looks. Ever.

9. My job rocks.

Welcome!

As promised, here's the schooner blog.

A bit about me for those of you who don't know: My name is Ria, I'm twenty-something years old, and I cook for a living. I tend to be a bit of a wanderer, I'm always up for an adventure, and when I grow up, I hope to be a pirate. I spent the last few years in Austin, TX where I attended Texas Culinary Academy. For my externship, I called in a favor from an old friend of my parents who had once told me "if you ever want a gig cooking on a windjammer in Maine..." April 7th, I packed my cat and everything I own into my Saturn and drove north.

I should probably tell you at this point that the largest sefaring vessel I have ever helped operate is a canoe. In the interest of full disclosure, I'll also say that I'm about 20 pounds overweight, and while I'm pretty strong when it comes to lifting a stockpot or doing a hundred knee bends a night to reach into a low-boy, I couldn't do a pull-up to save my life.

So I went from working insane hours indoors, never seeing the sun, and going home to my cat and a couple absentee roommates to working insane hours outdoors in the sun and crashing out in a 2br apartment with 6 other schooner bums. I've got to say that so far it's a change for the better. (BTW, my cat is livin' large with my parents in southern Maine.)

With any luck, this blog will be an account of how one pudgy hash-slinger transformes into a skilled, knowledgable and fantastically fit sailor, learning many life lessons along the way. Or maybe it will end up being a comical tale of hubris and humble pie served up on a woodstove. Probably a little of both.