Corey Wheeler Forrest gets up each morning at 4 a.m., packs lunches for her two children, resets the alarm clock so her husband will roll out on time and then drives to Sakonnet Point in Little Compton, R.I. By 6 o’clock she is aboard the 65-foot fishing boat Maria Mendonsa, steaming toward a floating fish trap, where she works alongside her father, two brothers and 10 or so other strong-backed men hauling fish nets — “pulling twine,” as it is called — from one of three specially built 30-foot aluminum double-enders.
“Fishing on the reefs is good in the evening. We fished twice last week for 26 bass from 25 to 37 inches, plus the first blue of the year. We could give that a whack and then head down the island after dark if you have the time?”
— email from Tim Coleman
It is a long-standing tradition of the sea to stop and render assistance to fellow seamen in distress. That’s simply the right and moral thing to do.
And the mariner who today comes to the aid of his sailing brother knows he might well find himself in dire straits tomorrow and be in need of a similar helping hand. That’s the way of the sea.
I stood next to boatbuilder Stacey Raymond at the Maine Boatbuilders Show, talking about deadrise, Down East boats and a fleet of special 19-footers he recently built for some very special clients.
Raymond, the owner of General Marine Inc. of Biddeford, Maine, spent the winter building 20 composite boats for fishermen in Japan whose lives were turned upside down by the devastating tsunami of a year ago
A good, well-built small boat can take far more punishment than its operators will ever care to endure. That’s just one of those truisms about well-found boats in the hands of experienced helmsmen — or perhaps even in no one’s hands.
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