Building a Skerry

It was right after I had sanded the entire exterior of the hull before fiberglassing that I realized the boat I was building was developing a spirit. Where it was coming from, I can't say. But, it's presence was unquestionable. As I ran my hands along the lines, I felt an energy... As if the boat was starting to take on some form of existence and it was urging me on. It needed me to continue building as much as I desired the same.

Since then, I find myself taking moments to consult the boat. Especially, during those times when I find myself stuck on a particular step (which has been frequent), or when I'm not feeling up to working on it. Often, I will put the tools away for the day, sit on the stool in "the shop" and stare. Sometimes I stare for a few minutes, sometimes longer. But, when I leave, and close the door behind me and the shop lights go out on the "ET Bugaboo", my head is free of the days clutter that I dragged into the shop with me. I know that I will be back to continue building, and I will solve any challenge that I encounter.

I later came up with the idea of making an offering to the Spirit of "ET Bugaboo". This offering I will secure into one of the sealed air tanks so that it becomes part of the boat. It will also serve as a sort of time capsule for a time (hopefully, a long time) when someone repairs or dismantles the boat and discovers it's hidden secret.

Items included in the "Offering":

- Lava from a Hawaiian volcano ("from the land and the sea") - Grandpa "ET"

- A tropical bird made of reeds by a native from St. John that was a souvenir from a family trip made in 1972. Accompanied by this note - Mom

- Wind that was captured in one of my Grandmothers old glass spice jars, and a homemade CD of songs about sailing. Accompanied by this note - Becky

- A handmade burgee that is a replica of the one used by the Redcliffe Canoe Club of South Hadley, MA. An original was flown by "Little Skunk", a Moth Class sailed by my father on the Connecticut River between 1956 and 1963. Accompanied by this poem - Dad

- A 1962 copy of "Trees - A Guide to Familiar American Trees", that once belonged to our Grandfather ("ET"), and 2 photographs (one of Jack Warner, the other of Michelle, Julie, Steven, and Lisa walking with their arms around each other). Accompanied by this poem - Chris

- Drawing of the family sailing in the boat... with a loaf of bread - Brenna

- Garter belt from our wedding. Accompanied by this note - Lisa

- A copy of my favorite story, "The Old Man and the Sea" by Ernest Hemingway, a photo of Brenna and I working on the hull, and a photo of Brenna and Molly - Steven

"To our Son and his Boat,

A native of St. John, VI captured the 'spirit of the sea' using local reeds to create a bird he had watched all his life while paddling across the waters of the Caribbean Sea. Natives thought this bird to be a good omen.

May this souvenir of our family trip to St. John in 1972 be a part of you and your boat as you, too, paddle the waters watching birds soar above the sea.

My love to you and, forever my hope for your safe return"

-Mom

"Dear Little Boat,

Your life will be a journey. Some days you will glide along with the wind in your sails and a song in your heart. Other days you will struggle to find movement. When these days come remember that deep within you lie the wind you need and the song of the sea. Draw upon their power to find the movement you need."

-Becky

Rising Sun
Still focus on my people
Glancing moon
Once flooded with your beams
Turning world
now halted in the darkness
Master fate
caught up with us it seems
Oh...My children...
Forgive us if you can.
For what I am not certain.
For castles in the sand.
Sheltered Eyes
submit to this new vision
Shattered dreams
Find some way to rebuild.
Hollowed heart
Where now lies your mission?
Evermore
with new hope please be filled
Oh...My children...
Forgive us if you will.
When our world is again ours,
the whole world will be still.
Warriors
new to this encounter.
Battling
a want for what we had.
No return
Our children on the outside.
They'll never know
the feeling we once had.
Oh...My children...
Forgive us if you can.
For what I am not certain.
For castles in the sand.

-Christopher

"To the ET Bugaboo Spirit:

This is my offering to you.

I give you the garter from mine and Steven's wedding, 8 years ago. It has sentimental value since it is from our special day.

The garter makes me think of our special times especially the ones with our family. In spirit, I have watched Steve's love, passion and dedication to his family to help this family thrive and become a special, valuable entity. In the same respect, I am seeing physically the love, passion and dedication he has put into creating such an incredible craft in you, "Bugaboo."

I look forward to the future with our family and watching them grow & prosper, as well as the many memories we will create in enjoying this very special boat."

-Lisa M. (Smith) Roberts

Approaching Nirvana

His lightweight shell responsively skims the droplets,

A wind so fragile and fresh that it sends chills through ones nervous system as it moves across the skin surface.

A weary traveler, frail with the push and shove of society, loses sense of time and space by pondering the wind and the reddish orange early sun set.

Standing in the waning sunset he thinks, "This seems to be perfection, is it the time?"

An eternity of meditation as the wind remains steady but fragile--- Then, SLIP!... As the shell slides and pushes off,... A mystical power abides.

But man, machine, and kinetic energy collide as the shell heaves and heels, the sail unfurls, and the only telling sound is the rush, crackle, and snap of droplets sliding over the hull skin.

The wind makes the guy wires sing a familiar song to the traveler, perhaps evoking tones of a composition.

All else is calm. The universe has slowed to a controlled spin.

The burgee dances and is a harbinger of storms to come, a story most valued... Is this the moment of truth and unification of man and spirit?

As the daylight fades, the wind dies and sail luffs. And the traveler grows weary...

At The crow of the rooster, the energy relaxed, skin crackle stopped, burgee was at rest, the traveler slept.

In full starlight and pale moon, he is awakened by snap of sail on mast... The burgee snaps, the wind is alive once more.

The west wind brings a steady gust, heels the skin, and amid his awakening by the crackle of droplets, and a silent light says to him, "You must obey, you must come to attention and focus."

The spirit of the wind, a well kempt machine, and the wisdom of man have become one.

The constant demand for attention, the need for unifying all demands keep the traveler alert.

"AWAKE!", he whispered. "The spirit of the wind, the magnificent skin, the nerve ends, and the light of night have brought us together. Is this a dream? Or is it the time of great wisdom? Is it time for creation to nourish ones mind and soul?"

DAR

6-14-03

To Steve on his 38th birthday