SCHOONER

We’ve been on the road now for 3 weeks, always with someplace to be every night. Some people like structure, schedules and itineraries and sometimes I wish I fit that profile. But in truth, it wears me out. All it takes is one hick up and it’s back to the drawing board. I’ve been told that you can skip a day and move on with the plan. But skipping the 500 miles you were going to put down that day leaves you a long way from the bed you had reserved. I normally carry my bed with me in the back of my truck. When the sun goes down, there you are. It works and I like it. But we, (she is a true road warrior like me) we have a schedule, bumpy at best, only a few calendar/course corrections and here we are. 

The Affordable Travel Club is a network of seniors who are willing to provide a fellow traveler with a bed for the night, breakfast and share hospitality that is the driving force of the organization. I’ve belonged to AFT for about a decade and never had a bad experience, either as a host or as a guest. There is no formal pricing, only a tradition for gratitude to match the hospitality. At some time before or after the guest moves along, the host finds a $20 bill on a night stand or coffee table as a heartfelt thank you. We’ve stayed with ATC members as we have been able and they are certainly good company, friends for the most part that who you would have missed otherwise. 

It’s early (still dark outside) and we are staying with a Pakistani family in their cheap motel, not far from Gatlinburg, TN. This is all about renting a bed and bath. I’m sure they are nice people but playing cards or sharing common interests just don’t fit the profile. If there is no ATC member nearby, at the end of the day one does what they must. Later, when we get daylight, Great Smoky Mt. National Park is our plan for the day. Then there are distant relatives (hers, not mine) waiting for us in NW Georgia. It has the same feeling as ATC even though they do have a common history. 

Our primary reason for the road trip was to adventure on a tall, sailing ship, a schooner. We did that right off, out of Rockland, Maine. The American Eagle is a 90’ schooner or 119’ with the bow sprit. Built in 1930, it is the last schooner/fishing trawler built in Gloucester, MA. They fished the Atlantic, caught lots of fish and in 1983 was a salvage project; either spend a ton of money or a rebuild or cast it off to the scrapyard. The refit was complete, new, redesigned everything; moving and redesigning the galley, new masts, new bones, new deck, converting the hold to living and sleeping quarters with toilet (head) accommodations and other amenities I won’t elaborate on here. 

Since 1985 ‘Eagle’ has been giving tourists a taste of the salt water experience, up and down the Maine coast. With 26 passengers and a crew of 6, we spent 6 nights and 5 days dodging in and out of islands in the Gulf of Maine, going ashore in villages and lobster bakes on isolated beaches, and it was all good. One night there were 13 schooners anchored in the harbor of a small town that featured a sailing school for wooden boats, all with a full complement of passengers. They were celebrating the tradition of wooden sailing ships and we were part of the show (the boats that is) and we (the passengers) were allowed to spend money at the festival that was in progress. 

This road trip with its best feature early leaves us nibbling at bait as we make our way back to New Orleans. Acadia Nat’l Park with its rugged Maine coast was great and today will feature Great Smoky Nat’l Park. This life is pretty good. Being old has its draw backs but travel is the upside. 

BUCKET LIST

St. George, Maine is a little hamlet that sports a few farms along the road, just a few miles down coast from Rockland, a destination sea port for yachts and sailing ships. We’ve come here to spend the week onboard the schooner, American Eagle, a Bucket List item that has come of age. The schooner is berthed at its mooring in Rockland while we are safely berthed at Robert Skoglund’s “The Humble Farmer” Bed & Breakfast, on the road to St. George. Built in 1847, the old two story has a fresh coat of yellow paint and solar panels. The place shows its age with wear and tear but likewise, it has been taken care of with a frugal sense of yankee purpose. 

Robert met us in the drive, scrutinized our parking in the grass at the corner of the house. I sort of expected a crusty old salt water character and he exceeded our expectations. Well into his 80’s I would guess, he spoke with a stereotypic, rattly Maine drawl that ascended slightly as he spoke and finished with an implied question mark. The sense of humor was quaint with an edge but he knew he was a funny man and milked it with subtle charm. We spent an hour or so engaged in clever conversation. It felt like a call & response song, never knowing where the call part would take us. Robert had his own local television show once upon a time. He reminded me of a wizened, old but not so fractious Soupy Sales. He made me think of the Canadian, CBC program from the 80’s, ‘Red Green’. We were entertained relentlessly. 

We are set to board our tall ship this evening and cast off for a 5 day cruise among the islands in the gulf of Maine. Hurricane Dorian passed through yesterday, off shore far enough all we got was a windy day with low cloud cover. By now it’s blowing itself  out, up the Nova Scotia coast. With the day to kill, I’m sure the sea port town will have plenty of trendy little shops and memorable characters to keep us occupied. My companion is still asleep in our upstairs room. It’s the only issue that we haven’t fully resolved yet. I am an early waker-upper and she prefers to sleep the morning away. So I’m journaling this a.m. as the dark outside gives way to gray and the traffic on the road is all headed into Rockland. We’ve been promised a ‘Large’, Maine breakfast, not that I’m all that hungry but I’m sure I’ll enjoy the food.

In this house, all of the furnishings are fashionably dated which means old, utilitarian and well preserved. I especially like the painted, 10” wide floor boards and area style rugs. Robert’s wife Marcia is pleasant, obviously not born & bred a yankee. The ladies went off into the kitchen for a chat while he went from verse to chorus like a stone skipping on flat water. I remember as a 6 year-old, visits to Sheldon, MO; to the old clapboard house at the end of a two-track. This place doesn’t have the classic scent of a wood fired, kitchen range or the smell of down filled comforters but I expect to be satisfied with a half-full, half-empty experience here. 

There will be no WiFi on the boat so I’ll not bother with my computer. Sleeping berths are adequate but storage space is non existent. We stopped to get wool socks in Connecticut yesterday but otherwise it’s a the clothes we have on, one change, several layers of warm, dry tops and rain gear. I’ll have more to say about the ride when we get our land legs back next week.