Friend and yachting correspondent Dieter Loibner traveled from Portland, Oregon to Port Townsend for a visit and to help with Martha’s refit.
I really think he just wanted to check up on us to see what it is we were up to, Here’s Dieter.
Martha and Mutualism
The Power Wagon was a riot. Holly’s chicken soup would make any Jewish mother proud. The Strait sparkled in sapphire blue, the mountains were clad in virgin white and the sun lay upon it all like a warm wool blanket. Heck, even the mill belched white smoke in curlicues. So that’s what it’s like to be a trabajador in Port Townsend. A lad, imported from south of the border, willing to work for, well, nearly nada. They found me a job that was in line with my limited skills and sent eight-year-old Mary to tutor me in the proper use of a heat gun and a scraper to remove varnish from Martha’s butt. It felt good to help out a little on deck while the heavy lifting happened elsewhere: down at the boat shop, where the bits and pieces of the new foremast took shape. Right underneath the hull, where the boys were fairing and fitting Martha’s new lead keel. Or off to the side, where Doug cut the pintles into Martha’s new rudder. He too is from south of the border, but unlike me, he’s a pro who does this for a living. Yeah, I did manage to scrape a few square feet of varnish and the lettering off the stern in exchange for the privilege of taking Martha’s wheel during the parade at the Wooden Boat Festival. Then and now it was just how I like it: highly visible, hardly strenuous and nearly impossible to screw up. Not so coincidentally, that’s why I also love sweeping floors. But I admit, this time around there was a hidden agenda: I wanted to see this operation when the makeup and the baubles were off. When the boat’s on the hard and it’s time to roll up the sleeves. And strangely, Martha still attracts an entertaining cast of characters, just as she does when she’s the belle of the ball. Associating with an elegant schooner, I’m happy to confess, is reflective of vanity and pride, since I decided long ago that the aesthetic of a ferro-cement fortress just doesn’t cut it. However, despite all her beauty and abilities, Martha is only the stage for a skit about life, about community and about people with all their strengths and frailties. It’s a non-profit, sure, but that’s business too. The venture wouldn’t succeed if not all the actors succeeded in their respective roles. Robert, who’s conducting the orchestra and makes sure everyone is on cue and in tune. Holly who keeps the fire stoked and makes sure Robert is on cue and in tune. Chris G., who can’t walk by a piece of varnished wood without telling the story behind it, and who has the state’s grant administrator on speed dial to remind her three times a day that ancient working vessels, you know, are people, too. And that’s just the tip of the iceberg. Just as the animals in the circus perform specific tricks to entertain the crowd, Martha has found a crew that knows the tricks that keep her alive and well. But to me, the humbling beauty of this vessel is not found in her sleek lines, gleaming varnish or sailing performance. It is how she and the program that is built around her, reach out to young people who are looking for a better course in life to teach them through sailing what it really means to tack on a header and gybe on a lift. Even better: many of these kids come back later to donate time, skills and expertise. It’s nearly a textbook example of mutualism, which the dictionary defines as a “beneficial association between two different kinds of organisms”. Martha helps them get their bearings by showing them a good time and teaching responsibility, self-sufficiency and teamwork. Later, they return as deckhands, who pass on to others what they learned and put on the coveralls when this lady, who turns 105 this year, needs a little TLC. Power Wagon, chicken soup, spring weather and puffy smoke in curlicues aside, seeing the inner workings of what makes Martha Martha was a just reward for a trabajador’s long haul up from Portland. And I have reason to suspect it wasn’t his last one.
The Power Wagon was a riot. Holly’s chicken soup would make any Jewish mother proud. The Strait sparkled in sapphire blue, the mountains were clad in virgin white and the sun lay upon it all like a warm wool blanket. Heck, even the mill belched white smoke in curlicues. So that’s what it’s like to be a trabajador in Port Townsend. A lad, imported from south of the border, willing to work for, well, nearly nada. They found me a job that was in line with my limited skills and sent eight-year-old Mary to tutor me in the proper use of a heat gun and a scraper to remove varnish from Martha’s butt. It felt good to help out a little on deck while the heavy lifting happened elsewhere: down at the boat shop, where the bits and pieces of the new foremast took shape. Right underneath the hull, where the boys were fairing and fitting Martha’s new lead keel. Or off to the side, where Doug cut the pintles into Martha’s new rudder. He too is from south of the border, but unlike me, he’s a pro who does this for a living. Yeah, I did manage to scrape a few square feet of varnish and the lettering off the stern in exchange for the privilege of taking Martha’s wheel during the parade at the Wooden Boat Festival. Then and now it was just how I like it: highly visible, hardly strenuous and nearly impossible to screw up. Not so coincidentally, that’s why I also love sweeping floors. But I admit, this time around there was a hidden agenda: I wanted to see this operation when the makeup and the baubles were off. When the boat’s on the hard and it’s time to roll up the sleeves. And strangely, Martha still attracts an entertaining cast of characters, just as she does when she’s the belle of the ball. Associating with an elegant schooner, I’m happy to confess, is reflective of vanity and pride, since I decided long ago that the aesthetic of a ferro-cement fortress just doesn’t cut it. However, despite all her beauty and abilities, Martha is only the stage for a skit about life, about community and about people with all their strengths and frailties. It’s a non-profit, sure, but that’s business too. The venture wouldn’t succeed if not all the actors succeeded in their respective roles. Robert, who’s conducting the orchestra and makes sure everyone is on cue and in tune. Holly who keeps the fire stoked and makes sure Robert is on cue and in tune. Chris G., who can’t walk by a piece of varnished wood without telling the story behind it, and who has the state’s grant administrator on speed dial to remind her three times a day that ancient working vessels, you know, are people, too. And that’s just the tip of the iceberg. Just as the animals in the circus perform specific tricks to entertain the crowd, Martha has found a crew that knows the tricks that keep her alive and well. But to me, the humbling beauty of this vessel is not found in her sleek lines, gleaming varnish or sailing performance. It is how she and the program that is built around her, reach out to young people who are looking for a better course in life to teach them through sailing what it really means to tack on a header and gybe on a lift. Even better: many of these kids come back later to donate time, skills and expertise. It’s nearly a textbook example of mutualism, which the dictionary defines as a “beneficial association between two different kinds of organisms”. Martha helps them get their bearings by showing them a good time and teaching responsibility, self-sufficiency and teamwork. Later, they return as deckhands, who pass on to others what they learned and put on the coveralls when this lady, who turns 105 this year, needs a little TLC. Power Wagon, chicken soup, spring weather and puffy smoke in curlicues aside, seeing the inner workings of what makes Martha Martha was a just reward for a trabajador’s long haul up from Portland. And I have reason to suspect it wasn’t his last one.
