I am different from many seafarers, in that I did not grow up near the water, nor did I have a family member in the maritime industry. Well, not one I remember, anyway. My grandfather sailed for years, but he died when I was very young and I don’t really remember him. For many of us out there, working on the water is a tradition passed down from parent to child, from one generation to the next. So many sailors have been on the water since they were big enough to wear a life jacket, fishing with their dad or cruising around in a party boat. But in my case it didn’t work out that way. I kept my feet firmly planted on the moss-covered ground of the Shenandoah Valley, although not intentionally. It’s not that going to sea wasn’t an option for me, it just never really crossed my mind.
One day, while on vacation with my family, we went on a whale-watching trip. I was maybe 14 years old at the time. My mother was absolutely convinced I was going to be seasick, having never been on a boat of any sort before. She packed extra grocery bags and seasick pills for the inevitable trauma I would be experiencing... and then promptly gave it all to my dad, who apparently gets seasick just looking at a boat. I, on the other hand, spent that time running from one side of the boat to the other to look at the wildlife, gaze out at the horizon, and breathe in the sea air. I had never smelled anything like it before, musty and salty yet deliciously satisfying.
At that point, I decided I was going to be a marine biologist when I grew up. My parents were supportive, but probably rolled their eyes when I wasn’t looking. By the time high school rolled around, I was still stuck on the idea of saving the whales. So, my mother enrolled me in a couple summer sessions that dealt with marine life and also the maritime industry. During one of these sessions, I found myself alongside a dozen other teenagers, cruising around on a tugboat for the day. She was small by tugboat standards, but she was powerful and pretty. I got to put my hands on the steering wheel and throttles, and I was hooked. I wanted to be a sailor. I knew this was what I was meant to do.
This led to me to Maine Maritime Academy, where I graduated with a degree in Marine Transportation, and an Unlimited 3rd mates license. I have since upgraded that to a 2nd mates license, as well as a 1600-ton master, and master of towing. I have sailed on large ships, oil spill response vessels, and tugboats all over the US, as well as Europe, South America, and the Caribbean. I always knew I wanted to work on tugs, but I went for the Unlimited license in case I changed my mind and decided to go deep sea. It’s nice to give yourself some options. I ended up in Alaska 12 years ago and fell in love with the place, and with the work I was doing there.
So here I am, almost 20 years after my first experience on a tug, still working on them. Some days, I hate it. Some days we have bad weather, or we’re working hard, or I’m just having an off day. I’ll want to go home, which is still nestled in the hills of the Blue Ridge Mountains, far away from the water. But most days, the people I work with and the boat I work on make it all OK. I love driving boats. As we cruise around the bay or out in Prince William Sound, I’ll step outside the wheelhouse and just take a big deep breath. I’ll gaze up at the stars, wave to a passing vessel, or smile at the porpoises playing in our bow wave. And for a moment I am transported back to the time I first smelled that salt air.
I like to think my old salt of a grandfather is looking down and smiling, too.