Volume II, Issue 2.
“Capt. Davis” - Kind of a nice ring to it after all these years. Capt. Jones is too formal. Since the only locker I have is in the gym at the office and I don’t think anyone would confuse my beard with tentacles, please don’t call me Capt. Davy Jones. But I do like the sound of Capt. Davis.
I’ve been sailing for 25 years, but it took Andrew and Shardana to convince me to get my “ticket” - that little sheet of paper from the Coast Guard that acknowledges that I might actually know what I’m doing. Now I have a 50-ton Master’s License with a Sailing Endorsement which says I can take people out for hire. I’ve done the time, I’ve passed the test, and I have the boat.
25 years ago (give or take) I became a sailor. Someone at my church asked for volunteers to stand up a Sea Scout Ship (a co-ed program for 14 – 21-year-old kids under the Boy Scouts of America). Being the Eagle Scout that I am, I took the bait, even though the only sailing this Tennessean had ever done was to stick a garbage bag on two paddles to catch some wind as we canoed around the lake on a windy day.
I spent the next bunch of years refurbishing many old boats, rebuilding wooden masts, getting 50-year-old engines to run, and finding kids willing to put up with us “old salts.” Eventually we built Sea Scout Ship 1942 into one of the best Ships in the country with a whole fleet of sailboats from 16 – 36 feet. We’ve sailed up and down the Potomac River, the Chesapeake Bay, Long Island Sound, Lake Ontario, and the British Virgin Islands. You may meet one of these fine girls or boys when they help crew Shardana for you.
Along the way I fell in love with the sea and the way sailing can affect us all. I met Capt Andrew as a colleague at work and we started sailing together on the Chesapeake Bay and all over the Caribbean sea. We and out wives became friends and we decided to start our own sailing business.
Adventure comes in many forms: dropping lines as you head off for a week of gunkholing around the Bay, riding out a raging thunderstorm as you head home to port, silently slipping into a crowded anchorage in the dark, or simply watching a sunset at the end of a beautiful day of peaceful sailing while the steaks sizzle on the grill. It really takes you away. My greatest joy of sailing is sharing that experience with someone who’s never had the chance.