Striking a delicate balance

July 2024

By Jack Farrell

There is a long-standing debate among historians about the origins of the name Isles of Shoals. To some it simply refers to the many ledges running out from the islands and the few especially treacherous ones that lie in open water offshore of them, commonly called shoals. I am in the camp that believes the name instead comes from the old English meaning of shoals, a large cluster of fish.

There was a humpback whale feeding way up in the harbor last week, and tuna were seen roiling the water halfway out from Rye Harbor. The big purse seiners from Rockland are back again chasing lobster bait, and they only come down here when the bait fish are abundant. This morning the sky around the islands was full of circling gulls and terns, and the water churned with small fish pursued by stripers and a fleet of recreational fishermen. These are the Isles of Shoals this month, for sure.

With Star Island projects wrapping up and the charter season starting in earnest, this is among the busiest of times for the Shining Star. Twelve-hour days are routine, and most of my spare time is dedicated to boat maintenance or the grandchildren. Nonetheless, I recently made the decision to launch our sailboat again after three years in the barn.

When I was first overtaken by this boat obsession, I would never have contemplated the idea of launching the 40-foot wooden classic without a full paint job. Such a project requires at least five days of prepping, painting and striping detail. But I can’t find the time for that right now.

One night a week or so ago, I was in the barn grabbing some tools for the garden from under the boat. I paused long enough to take a good look at her. The bottom paint was flaking off and would require a good sanding and two coats of fresh paint. But the topsides were looking pretty good in spite of a season’s use and all that time in the barn. The port side is always in the dark and the finish was holding up well. The starboard side gets a lot of sun through the shed windows, but even there the paint still had a good gloss. The hairline cracks at the plank edges would be less visible when she swelled up.

The teak trim and house sides got a renewed varnish at a yacht yard last year. I was a little disappointed with the very expensive work, and I won’t go that route again. But it’s all coated and mostly shiny, and will look acceptable from 50 feet away.

Maybe it’s wisdom and maybe it’s simply resignation, but I had a bit of an epiphany among the cobwebs and the slanting light in the boat shed that evening, and I’m feeling pretty comfortable about it as time passes. I set pride aside and accepted the fact that Aloft looked good enough for now. I resolved to call the boat haulers to set up a launch date.

So, we’ll put her overboard in a couple of weeks and hope she remembers how to float. She might be harshly judged by a handful of waterfront smarties, and by me. But her graceful lines will turn some heads as they always have, and she’ll soon tighten up and stop leaking. Most of all, she’ll still lean into the afternoon breeze and roll the miles away while I lean sideways against the lee coaming – the better to mind the trim of the jib – steering with the light touch of a couple of toes on the big shiny wheel while the gurgling stern wave curls away smoothly behind us.

There is a delicate balance to be minded in this whole boat thing between a healthy pride and the perils of egotism. It has always been important to me that the boat I am operating looks good. Likewise, I have taken more than a little satisfaction in knowing what to do on a boat, and, especially with a sailboat, how to make her go. I am pretty hard on myself when I get it wrong and equally happy when it goes well. A dose of healthy pride motivates learning and sound maintenance.

And then there’s the matter of all the custom and tradition of yachts and yachting that insiders and club members have used for centuries to set themselves apart from the rabble and the newcomer. While I was a member of a now-defunct yacht club for a season or two, part of me finds the whole enterprise onerous, unfair and classist. But another part of me finds it valuable. I am curiously drawn to knowing and following yachting tradition, to meeting standards and to developing my boat-handling and boat-keeping skills. I sure don’t want to be like that fellow in our area, clearly new to the game, with a classic yacht of the highest pedigree who still doesn’t know that one must always strike the ensign when racing around the buoys.

As the days fly by until the launch date, my mind is filling with concerns about an old boat that has sat neglected in a barn for a few years. Did I winterize the engine adequately? Have mice gotten into the wiring? Is the fuel still good? Have the bottom seams opened up more than the pumps can handle? Will the batteries take a charge? But in spite of these worries and the lack of a paint job, I am very much looking forward to getting back aboard my old friend. And there is always next year for the paint and varnish.

Meanwhile, out at Star Island, the unofficial capital of the Isles of Shoals, there is little risk of the perfect becoming the enemy of the good. There simply is not enough time or money for that. Still, that grand and valid experiment, where one of the main goals for over 100 years has been “to create on Star Island an inspirational environment that frees all who come to renew spiritually, explore matters of conscience and gain knowledge about the world as it might ideally be” continues to thrive in spite of itself.

Three cherished old buildings have received facelifts this spring, the front porch steps and railings have been replaced in masterful fashion, and plans continue to be developed for an expanded solar power system. But many other critical projects remain on “the list.” The annual repair budget has increased significantly over the past decade, but it never seems to be enough.

In spite of all that still must be done, the annual visits by thousands of pilgrims to this place of peace and inspiration will once again inspire and sustain many through life’s challenges and a long winter – in spite of the peeling paint and unglazed windows. And just as with our old sailboat, there is always another chance next year to add a little more shine at the Isles of Shoals.

Jack was the manager at Star Island for many years. He currently manages major construction and utility projects there and provides all-season boat service to the island (average 250 trips per year) for luggage, food, employees, supplies and guests. He also runs Seacoast Maritime Charters, LLC providing year-round private charter boat service and marine logistics to the general public, now in the Shining Star. He still enjoys cruising in his classic Ted Hood sloop, Aloft, and teaching skiing at Sugarloaf Mountain in Maine.

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