Reflections on a Summer of Stillness

Words and photos by Trinda McNeill

Summer 2020 was certainly not what I was expecting. I was expecting trainees to laugh with, buns to bake, and the occasional bout of unavoidable seasickness. It goes without saying that many people were morose—wishing their summer was something different. Though filled with an uncertainty that could be unsettling at times, and a mourning for the sea and salt air, I was able to find a beauty in the stillness. There was an awe in the quiet on the boat that I had never experienced—a slowness and a feeling of almost being frozen in time (quiet is not always so easy to come by when you have 30 people hauling sails aloft or gathering for meals and lessons!). As one of two people allowed onboard during much of the summer, I was able to become well acquainted with the Swift and appreciate her beauty from a new perspective.

I got to give the figurehead "Marg" a much needed "makeover" and touched up the scrollwork and dogwoods in the bow. But my favourite was getting to do the delicate painting of the transom. I had never noticed how stunning and detailed the gold carvings really are! Through these projects I developed a true appreciation for how beautiful the place I get to work and live aboard is. The stillness left room for recipe development and dreaming of new ways to feed trainees, something very dear to my heart. The cook training manual got a big overhaul and we developed a recipe planning and pricing spreadsheet that I hope will really help cooks in the future!

Admittedly there were tears—more tears than I would usually admit to—but I think there is also a beauty in mourning what we lost. You do have to recognize the clouds themselves to appreciate their "silver lining". This summer helped me remember how the trainees see the boats the first time. The foreignness of it all. An environment totally alien to their everyday. The bewildering number of halyards, downhauls and stays. The sheen of the caprails and the smell of the ocean. The wonder and the vastness. Looking back now, I can appreciate what I did glean from my unexpected summer tied to the dock: a rekindled sense of wonder in the boats, and a recognition of their beauty.