For all the shenanigans, for the sometimes crappy
conditions, for all of the time away from home, working on a crewboat still
affords many moments of what I can describe only as joy.
Folks end up working on boats for many reasons, not the
least of which is money. It is not difficult, within just a few years of
entering the profession, to make what many doctors and lawyers are making.
There is much more to it than that, though.
For some people – I’m one – being on and around boats is a
pleasure in and of itself. We were dropped on our heads, into salty water, when
we were babies. The experience rewired our brains forever.
I’m no gearhead, and my truck is a mid-sized one sans brush guard
and lift kit. I don’t go “mudding,” and I’ve never seen a NASCAR race. I have
never been inclined to operate heavy equipment, and I’m not especially fond of
loud noises. But …
There is a sublimely powerful feeling in having 6,000 horses
at one’s fingertips, literally.
Speaking for myself, I get a real charge out of standing on
the 40-yard line and precisely controlling a very large object (the stern of
the boat) in the end zone just feet or inches away from some very large
obstructions.
In 1996 I was named U.S. Army Europe military journalist of
the year. I have won top awards at the Department of Defense level. I have
planned every facet of a successful overseas deployment to a war zone.
I have seen my stories and photographs published in dozens
of magazines. I’ve rescued people from flood waters and retrieved them from the
destruction of a hurricane.
None of that, or anything else I’ve ever done, matches the
feeling of accomplishment that comes with a calm, controlled and safe offload
or backload bow-up in 8-foot seas and 30 knots of wind.
I love the sailorly arts, the ones that connect me to
age-old tradition: making-up mooring or dock lines, plotting a course, making
passing arrangements in a busy port.
I enjoy teaching new guys the things they need to know to
keep themselves, the vessel and their shipmates safe. I enjoy learning about my
shipmates; you get to know the people you sail with (and live and work with
24-hours-a-day) on a level that compares only to family or brothers-in-arms.
Hell, I don’t even mind the ever-growing mountains of
paperwork our customers require.
There are other benefits that you’ll never see listed on a
boat company’s web site: in this line of work, one gets to experience things
that people working and living ashore can barely imagine.
Things like a whale shark snuggling up to the boat for a
couple of hours, or a pod of dolphins cavorting in the wake, flying fish
skimming the wave tops next to the boat, a towering thunderstorm reflected in a
glassy calm sea … a fat orange moon rising out of the Gulf, sunrises, and
sunsets.
Those sorts of things never get old, truly. And sometimes
when the shenanigans are in full swing, a single spectacular sunset can ransom
another week of enthusiasm for the job.
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