Bar Hopping

No, this isn’t really about bar hopping, at least not in the traditional sense. It has to do with sandbars. Upon reflection, it occurred to me that my recent entries have been pretty serious and perhaps a little levity was order. Last summer we were sailing on the Chesapeake with friends and our generous host offered me the wheel. I was delighted; delighted to be there and delighted to pilot their large and exceptional sailboat. And what could be better? I was engaged in my favorite leisure activity with some of my favorite people in a scenic new locale. The world was my oyster … for about twenty minutes, after which I promptly ran their beautiful boat aground on a sand bar. It wasn’t a real emergency, and the situation was promptly rectified. In fact, the only damage was to my pride. But hey, it happens. In fact, there’s an old adage that there are only two kinds of sailor: those who have run aground … and liars. Either way, after a few minutes we were back under way and still had an amazing day out on the water. My little grounding incident just became a funny story recounted in the poem below.


I can’t help commenting, however, that no matter how idyllic life may be we all run aground once in a while. And the same adage holds true in the broader world of experience that there are only two kinds of people in the world: those who have had problems, and liars. Sometimes the channel isn’t clearly marked, but more often we’re just careless … like me. But the sand bars should not define our journey. They are just bumps along the way and we need focus on the open waters ahead that still hold so much in store for us. My advice to you is to beware of shallow water and obstacles like sand bars, and avoid the ones you can. But when you do find yourself stuck in the mud, get unstuck and sail on. Some people just stay there in the mud for their whole lives and miss the other amazing parts of the cruise. I say sail on … and bon voyage!

Bar Hopping
It all began innocently enough
With a gentle breeze fair on the beam
As we ghosted down the South River
An idyllic day, out of a dream
The skipper offered me the wheel
And I accepted cheerfully
So, taking the con, I sailed on
Things were going swimmingly
Then, of a sudden, the depth alarm
Began to emit its telltale squeal
Moments later the helm took on
An unusually sluggish feel
Apparently the officer of the watch
Lulled into complacency
Had strayed from the center channel
And drifted off course, you see
One moment there was a bow wave
And the Eastern Shore beckoned afar
The next we were dead in the water
When Frank stuck us hard on the bar
The crew all raced to the lee rail
The skipper reclaimed the Wheel
And we got her off in a moment
With vigorous seamanship and zeal
“It’s OK, no harm, no foul”
The skipper was quick to proclaim
It was just a little mud, after all
But mud had become my name
Yet, disaster was averted
So everyone enjoyed their day
And after I clean the other head
I’m allowed to go out and play
            By Frank Carpenter ©