Ahoy, Matey

My Sailing merit badges make me no more a sailor than the First Aid merit badge makes me a doctor. Luckily I wasn’t driving. I’ve been on large commercial boats before (ferries in the San Juan Islands and the Viking line from Helsinki to Stockholm), but they don’t really count. I’m talking true blue, private use cruising yachts. And I’m not sure what threshold a boat has to cross before it’s considered a “yacht” in the ocean, but I’m pretty sure my boss’s counts. In Wyoming a yacht is anything with a motor. I used to guide a “limo” down the Shoshone River when I was 18 if that gives you any idea how we mountain folk view watercraft.

I tried to act cool, like this was no big deal. It wasn’t to them. They do this all the time. When asked how often they “get out” on the boat, the answer was, “oh, about once a week for something like this and once a month for a longer trip.” Longer trip? How much longer? How many people go “longer?” I was intrigued. Turns out they do a few big fishing trips every year.

The back deck has 10 chairs set up with plenty of standing room along the rails. Inside the main room are 2 large tables that seat 8 each. A couple benches and other chairs by the TV round out the seating arrangements. The kitchen is larger and better equipped than the one in my condo. The master bedroom has a king-size bed and a king-size bathroom – by boat standards, that is. Downstairs are the 8 state rooms, each with its own bathroom.
Above the main level is the cockpit with captain’s quarters and a couple rooms for the staff. I think we had 5. Then, if that isn’t enough, on top of that is a lounging deck, equipped with a small bar.

The boat is called the Melanie Rose, after my boss’s daughter. Everywhere you look there are hand-carved roses in the woodwork. The boat even has its own printed napkins.

We pulled out of the harbor around 4:30 and headed for the sunset. Dinner consisted of chicken marsala (you’ll have to check my spelling on that one) and ribs. And all the beer you could guzzle, of course. These guys no how to put on a feed. I excused myself to watch he sun finish its plunge into the mountains of the Baja from the upper deck.

I’ve seen few sunsets that rival the one tonight. That one from the top of Ptarmigan Mountain back in 199? comes to mind as a contender. Apples and oranges, I guess. It’s one thing to watch a pretty sunset from the shore. It’s entirely different riding high atop a vessel in the middle of the water as the colors play off each other, the contrast becoming more defined as the sun fades. A picture is worth a thousand words, but 2-D images can’t capture the view from all the angles. You have to take in the sky and water behind you and to your sides. Besides, I forgot my camera.

We turned around just before the sky got dark. A bunch of us sat on the upper deck, content to take in the stars and to enjoy the breeze. From where we sat the Big Dipper was about to scoop up the water in Cholla Bay.

To date this stands as my most awe-inspiring moments on the ocean. It’s not my most memorable moment in the water. That place is reserved for the time I popped that “limo” and dumped most of my French passengers into the Shoshone River all those years ago. I just hope I get invited for the next cruise.

Until then, it’s still sunny in Penasco. I saw the sunset to prove it.