Ah, there is nothing quite like starting a sailing trip! You cast off the mooring lines and motor into the chop of the harbor, bow pointed toward the open sea. But it is that moment when you shut off the motor, raise the sails in the following silence, and suddenly feel the ship harness the breeze, creaking and heeling as you crank the winch taut. Now the ship takes on its own poetry of motion, rising and falling on waves, some bow spray scattering in beads across the oiled teak of the deck and making the brass brightwork gleam.

We are aboard a two-masted schooner, and because she is nearly 100 feet at the water line, her motions are gently rolling in the sea and our footing is easy. Groups of Mudcatters gather at bow or stern, instruments in hand, while some sit near the cabin where the Tavern has been set up. I'm happy to take the wheel as we start the journey. Now, if someone would bring me a cold beer and help me chart the course.

And, as I now have my beer, let me raise a toast to Kendall Morse, our Captain, and say that I'm in fond hope that he will grace us with story and song!