Our own, Bradley Angle, was published in the Letters to the Editor section of San Francisco’s famous sailing magazine, Latitude 38. Check out his article here, or below.

THE CURVE OF TIME BELONGS ON EVERY SAILOR’S BOOK SHELF

It’s hard not to be pedantic when browsing a sailor’s bookshelf, including Latitude’s. I scrapped my pedantic rant and figured I’d stick to something more hopeful: The Curve of Time by Wylie Blanchet. Blanchet’s story of sailing around Vancouver Island in the 1920s with her five children is pretty amazing. Once you get into her style of longing prose, you’ll soon realize she’ll never speak of anything being arduous. She doesn’t much talk about anything directly — her language moves with grace and purpose through the past, attempting to recreate years of sailing with only her children, aka her “crew,” in uncharted waters and into dangerous frontiers. Her sea stories will stand juxtaposed to most of the 119 stories Latitude has on its shelf.

Blanchet’s The Curve of Time is at the junction of the boating and literary worlds. This story is dreamy like Moitessier, but Blanchet never ditched her family. It is a great maritime biography without the ego and lone-genius bull. It’s sea adventure garnished with the reflections of a mother and steward of the land. It’s a call for sailors to remember the basics of the world they love — the people, the places, the small moments. Wylie Blanchet wrote her memoir like an epic, and some 30 years after the fact. With her five children, she packed full a 25-ft boat and shoved off for adventure on the British Columbia coast. With a quiet narrative voice, almost like an internal dialogue, Blanchet captures all of the features one would expect in a sea story, but she does so through a somberness that attracts and a pining that creates no anxieties.

The Curve of Time captures us with what it leaves out, and it sells us with the way what is left in is spoken. We never learn much about her children, though they are there through the turning of every tide. We don’t learn much about her 25- ft boat, but we know Blanchet and her children kept it in repair and operating themselves. We only learn about her deceased husband through extrapolation. When the family enters a risky inlet for the night, we learn of the stars and the trees. For those Latitude members who want sailboats in their sailing stories, this is not for you. If you want family adventure, trials and tribulations, and the deep reflective thoughts of a single mother and salty sailor, this is a must.

The Curve of Time belongs on every sailor’s shelf, every poet’s shelf, every philosopher’s shelf, and every historian’s shelf. For those who need inspiration, motivation, and a reality check, this book is all you need.

Bradley Angle

 Standing 100 yards out on the lowtide awash sand at Deadmans Hollow, under a starless midnight sky with Liz, I took a second to focus on a few deep inhales. The beauty was whelming. The silence bore the speech of the sea. Liz felt it – A powerful energy in the air encompassing a balancing respect for times-gone-by and hope. Two dueling lighthouses swept the breakers and sea beyond: North Head and Cape Disappointment Lighthouse. We hadn’t seen each other in 4 years, and we’d not stopped talking since PDX, but here there was a mutual pleasure in the sounds of each other’s silence. I liked Liz for this reason, and other reasons.

I had been on this beach four nights before solo, drinking a few beers and sitting naked in the hightide sands under Pleiades, oblivious to aton. There is nothing I find but appreciation and curiosity for the juxtapositions simple things can influence in our thought processes. On this night, I went to bed content and inspired by the ambiance, Liz by my side.

But I couldn’t sleep. The night through I listened to the silence and two separate breaths. The back of my Rav-4 was cozy, but something outside seemed magnetic, and it was when the rain started to fall that I knew I wouldn’t sleep. Might as well run.

I decided North Head Lighthouse was much closer, and I’d already inspected the cliffs to the North and found no passage through. I ran south along the campground road, and eventually found a sign that said North Head Trail. Sheltering under magnificent pines, between down pours, I jogged as fast as I could through that forest, slowed in speed by massive root systems and ferns, but amped up by some mystic nostalgic vibe. My headlamp started going dim by the time I made the lighthouse, but I wasn’t concerned, I was thankful for the reminder to embrace the world as it is, without tools to “improve it.” At the lighthouse I found no sense of awe or desire. I was wet and starting to get chilled. My night run had been roughly 3 miles at that point and I’d need to take the roads back to the camp and I had no idea how long that’d take. My energy was fading but my spirit was content with something similar to happiness.

I was on a main road with a slight downhill grade. It was as dark as night can get. The unmistakable growl of an approaching engine was in the distance, switching gears fast, up and down. Soon I could see headlights from around the corner behind me. I stepped off the road, wearing nothing but shorts and running shoes and a wifebeater, drenched. The pickup slowed as it went by me, then sped on its way. I made out a middle-aged man in the front seat. There was nothing ahead but a deserted campground and US Coast Guard Station Cape D. A second speeding car passed me 5 minutes later; this one didn’t see me.

Back at the car I didn’t want to wake Liz. I fired up the Coleman and put on the coffee. It was approaching 0500. I walked back out to the beach and thought I might see a 47’. I didn’t. I was too cold to sit, and I closed my eyes each time I sipped at my cup-a-Joe…

I worry about cliches. I loose sleep over my thoughts. I worry about those who celebrate mediocracy – one day each of us will loose everything we’ve ever come to know and love, everything. I worry about platitudes. I worry about my own ego – is it too big? Is it real? What’s real? I’m bothered by a lot of stimulants, echoes particularly…

My buddy Lenny used to tell me Cape D stories back when we used to be stationed together. I guess it was there I gained some interest in the place. Through reading maritime literature, history and biography, and aging, I’ve come to appreciate the Columbia River Bar much more. It’s a dangerous place. Scenic, more than any other, and more dangerous than many of us know to consider – even in this modern era.

When Lenny posted a book recommendation online – Life and Death at Cape Disappointment – of course I bought it. But I wasn’t looking forward to reading it. The cover had that cliché feel to it. And the content, I thought, must be standardized modern hero culture. It sat on my shelf for months, until it became one of those books I randomly grabbed as I ran out the door… Then… I read it in two sittings, couldn’t put the thing down.

Christopher D’Amelio used to run the forest trails in Cape Disappointment. He spent some great deal of time on the jetties, beaches and cliffs in that part of the world. He also spent more than his share of time on Coast Guard rescue boats there. His book is built sea-story by sea-story, or rescue by rescue. It’s chapter driven in that way. But D’Amelio uses an undercurrent of themes that separate his book from the standard hero-culture and sensationalist publications that Amazon will suggest for you. He dives into his own psychology and he questions the status quo. What D’Amelio leaves out (although it’s always on the tip of his pen) brings a bit of suspense into the reading.

I appreciate the work D’Amelio did at Cape D, it’d be hard not to. And I admire him for the way he spins his yarns. I hope sharing his story with the world has also shared some of the weight he must carry. Maybe his past shipmates found some relief in it too(?).

Check out his book to gain insight into Coast Guard Hero Culture, from an inside POV. Check out his book for insight in the life and duties of a CG surfman. Check out his book for a collection of great sea-stories, as dark as they are. Check out his book to familiarize yourself with the Columbia River Bar and Cape Disappointment.

Thanks Christopher D’Amelio.

Salute.

… It was 0700 when I finally woke Liz. She seemed to have the chills under the blankets, so I stripped and snuggled up to her. She let out a squeal as my light blue skin touched hers. It took 15 minutes for our body temps to equalize. 30 minutes later she remembered we were in a new place, a forest in the PNW, and she looked out the window.

“It’s so beautiful out there.”

“We should hike out to the lighthouse today?” I responded.

“Yeah. I’d like that. How’d you sleep?”

“The World Encompassed, by Sir Francis Drake. Annotated” offered with Annotations by Bradley Angle.

Lost in the library? Bord in the book store? Why not go back and read a classic piece of historical sea-story?

We have just published an annotated version of “A World Encompassed,” Sir Francis Drake’s story of circumnavigation. This is one of the most exciting and inspiring sea-stories ever told. Through the lens of Francis Fletcher’s journal, A World Encompassed is a peak into 16^th century sailing. Our annotations provide smoothing for the elements of the stories that need a bit of flow control.

Our edition of this text, which is in the public domain, is designed for those who enjoy sea-stories.

If you like what you see on this website, help us out by purchasing one of our texts off of Amazon, and don’t forget to leave reviews!

Chapter 11

Even at that stage of travel, men were extremely interested in culture, history, and social theory. Slocum stopped on the island known as the home of the real Robinson Crusoe.

“I of course made a pilgrimage to the old lookout place at the top of the mountain, where Selkirk spent many days peering into the distance for the ship which came at last.”

Chapter 12

“to be alone 43 days would seem a long time, but in reality, even here, winged moments flew lightly by,”…

Chapter 13

A long stop in Australia…

“If a boy in Australia has not the means to by himself a boat, he builds one, and it is usually one not to be ashamed of.”

Chapter 14

Slocum was tough on others he met. He certainly meant well though I get the feeling he had odious reasons to shame others – he had a monstrous ego and could do no wrong.

“These three jolly tars comprised the crew. None of them knew more about the sea or about a vessel than a babe knows about another world.”

Chapter 15

This chapter shows how word of mouth is often wrong, and when history is taught on word-of-mouth alone, people can end up confused and not even realize it… In Australia’s Cooktown, the residence all operate under the belief that Cook had fought and died and was indeed buried in that town. They argued over the spot he hauled his famous boat the HMS Endeavour for repairs.  It is only that I know the story that I know Slocum’s comments to his crowd are chastising, otherwise, he seems to be polite and knowledgeable.  I wonder how many things in his book did slip by me, cause I am not in the know, or because I hold no grudge against weekend warriors???

“On the following morning captain Jones brought onboard two pairs of exquisite shells, the most perfect ones I ever saw. They were probably the best he had, for Jones was the heart-yarn of a sailor.”

Chapter 16

The feat of sailing around the world alone is mostly incomprehensible to anyone who’s spent little time aboard vessels and at sea. It is truly exhausting, treacherous, and head-taxing. Slocum did something amazing, and he knew it.

Page 211. It was a delightful sail! During those twenty three days I had not spent altogether more than three hours at the helm, including the time occupied in beating into Keeling harbor. I just lashed the helm and let her go; whether the wind was abeam or dead aft, it was all the same: she always sailed on her course. No part of the voyage up to this point, taking it by and large, had been so finished as this.” “You couldn’t have beaten it in the navy!”

Chapter 17

“At Mauritius, where I drew a long breath, the Spray rested her wings, it being the season of fine whether. The hardships of the voyage, if there had been any, were now computed by officers of experience as nine tenths finished, and yet somehow I could not forget that the United States was still a long way off.”

Chapter 18

He had crossed three oceans and rounded Cape Horn. Now, Cape Hope was the “most prominent point to pass.” Along the way he met many quirky and unlearned persons. Strangest were the learned men and prominent officials who insisted that the world was flat. Slocum wrote of two such government officials who challenged Slocum when he said he was sailing “round the world.”  I can’t fathom how a learned person of the late 19^th century could argue the world is flat, it makes sense only when we consider the dogmatic circles such people lived in – and still live in today – after all, the most sold book of all times claims the world is flat.

“His Excellency received me cordially enough; but my friend Judge Beyers, the gentleman who presented me, by mentioning that I was on a voyage around the world, unwittingly gave great offense to the venerable statesman, which we both regretted deeply. Mr. Kruger corrected the judge rather sharply, reminding him that the world is flat. ‘you don’t mean round the world,’ said the president; ‘it is impossible! You mean in the world. Impossible!’ he said, ‘impossible!’ and not another word did he utter to the judge or to me.”

I reflect on this often. Humans have had the same brain for 100,000 years or more. The structure has not had time to evolve in that time. It is only information that has accumulated and passed on through the generations that make us so smart. But regardless of smart, we are all certain. Our intuition is programmed to be correct. The idea of claiming an intellectual superiority over your specific knowledge base is thus ridiculous. Your ideas may be true, but you could not know that truth intuitively – you only feel you do. Poor Mr. Kruger. Poor Slocum. Poor reader.

Chapter 19

Page 262. “On May 8, 1898, she crossed the track, homeward bound, that she had made October 2, 1895, on the voyage out. She passed Fernando do Noronha at night, going some miles south of it, and so I did not see the island. I felt a contentment in knowing that the Spray had encircled the globe, and evn as an adventure alone I was in no way discouraged as to its utility, and said to my self, “Let what will happen, the voyage is now on record.”’ A period was made.”

Chapter 20

“And I slapped her on the transom, proud of her last noble effort to leap clear of the danger, when a wave greater than the rest threw her higher than before, and, behold, from the crest of it was revealed, at once all there was of the reef. I fell back in a coil of rope, speechless and amazed, not distressed, but rejoiced. Aladin’s lamp! My fisherman’s own lantern! It was the great revolving light on the island of Trinidad, thirty miles away, throwing flashes over the waves, which had deceived me!”

Chapter 21

“On the 23^rd of June I was at last tired, tired, tired of baffling squalls and fretful cobble-seas. I had not seen a vessel for days and days, where I had expected the company of at least a schooner now and then. As to the whistling of the wind through the rigging, and the slopping of the sea against the sloop’s sides, that was well enough in its way, and we could not have got on without it, the Spray and I; but there was so much of it now, and it lasted so long!”

The Raft of the Medusa

We are products of our environment. As people of the sea, we are exposed to environmental factors that produce startling results in our behavior. Through time, the social isolation that comes with seafaring has challenged social and civil norms at every port and on every ship. Within small groups, detached from the larger herds, we’ve developed unique styles of adapting to one another. We conform to each other to fit in, and as we loosen the need to conform to civil societies, we simply create a unified social order that fits the structure of our own isolated social groups and authentic minds.

Of course, this phenomenon has changed through maritime history. The age of exploration and discovery saw an explosion of cultural and behavioral change. Today the unknown is mostly known, and otherwise it can be googled. Today, technology not only helps us navigate free of reefs, it keeps us from becoming a-luff, it keeps us connected to the civil-society back home.  And, to digress a quick sec, it keeps that civil-society back home connected to us.  But the order of detachment, isolation, and mystique still remains. The sea is a tremendous and tumultuous place, if across a glass like ocean at dawn.  It will continue to create significant stories for individuals and for mankind. It is the everchanging place that stay the same…

Sea Stories exist because of what I’ve written above – They are the novel features and the best examples of what the maritime does to people.  The stories tell of loss, suffering, adventure, craziness, collapse, myth, and glory. Below is a Sea Story that slipped by me for 35 years, and then slid comfortably onto my shelf and then, not so comfortably, in my mind.

The story of the Medusa and her company is such a supposed one-of-a-kind story. It is the apex of human failure and suffering. It’s full of the most god-awful behavior one could imagine. The suffering of children. The brutality of politicians and their captains. The taste of rotten human flesh. The swallowing of black tongues. The savageness of beach combers. The whimsical ideas of power-hungry moronic leader… The story fails to gain attraction as an epic sea story, as the actions of the ship’s company traditionally have appeared to be outside the realms of normal, and therefore the episode is dismissed as nothing more than a satanic coup at sea, with no relation to either the maritime or normal human behavior.  But the author of “Death Raft” ends his book with the following: “During the preliminary study for this book, I made a note: ‘In almost all disasters at sea, historians like to point out, there is some ennobling or moving feature. They decline to give the story of the Medusa the status of a tragedy because, they conclude, the victims were largely responsible for what happened to them. I wonder how true that is?’.”

I side with Alexander McKee’s take on the story of the Raft of the Medusa.  The environment led to lunacy among the passengers of the raft. The events should not be dismissed as extremity to human behavior, rather it should be studied as an example of behavior within the realm of extreme environment.  And the output to that study would suggest we use all available resource to avoid this type of environment. This is why the movement towards safety of life at sea is so important. This is why the studies of ethics and the push to remove conflicts of interest from contract is so paramount. The extreme case of suffering should be reviewed for what it actually is, and we should avoid labeling it as something that won’t happen again.  McKee’s “Death Raft” concludes with present day examples of similar situations…

The Incident:

The Napoleonic Wars had concluded and Napoleon had been sent to die in exile on the small Atlantic Island of St. Helena. The countries of Europe had been colonizing the Coast of Africa for the better part of 3 centuries, and with changes of power happening with diplomacy instead of aggression, a fleet of French merchant and trade ships was sent to a slave trading outpost on the African Coast to take control of the town from English control, as a peaceful deal had been reached by both governments.  The fleet contained 4 ships, lead by the commander de Chaumareys.  Unfortunately for everyone, de Chaumareys was not only a friend of the French political class, he was also an incompetent, self-centered, and zero-hearted leader. He ignored the advice of his maritime officers, and he took the most dangerous route he could find to his destination in order to arrive first, ahead of the rest of his fleet.

His ship, the Medusa, ran aground on a known sand bank off the coast of Africa. There, the ship began to take on water. With 400 people onboard, and a cargo of gold, cannons, food and grain for establishing a strong beginning in their new colony, de Chaumarey delayed orders.  He soon began to see the panic and ordered a raft to be built, as the vessel’s skiffs could only hold 200 people.  All ideas to save the ship by throwing the grain and cannons overboard were dismissed by de Chaumery, as he planned to explain the loss of the ship due to uncontrolled events.  The idea to shuttle people to the Coast of Africa was dismissed as well. Instead, de Chaumery loaded himself and his preferred staff into the small boats and the remainder of the ship’s company aboard the raft. Within hours of setting sail, the tow lines to the raft were cut, and the small boats departed for the coast. The small boats would never return, and each one of them endured their own struggles, though eventually made it to their original destination.

The raft was submerged three feet below the waterline and there was not enough space for any of the 150 persons aboard to sit. Within 12 hours 40 humans had washed overboard and drowned.  Over the next 13 days the raft turned into a war zone. The only substances aboard were wine and human flesh. The lunacy that overtook the soldiers and families aboard was nothing short of suicidal mania. Men fought to destroy the raft. Men fought to hoard the wine. Men fought their night-mares. By day twelve it was agreed that the strongest would kill the weakest in order to survive. They did. On day 13, only fifteen of the original 150 were rescued. A week later only ten survived.

There are multiple accounts of what happened on all the different vessels and on the raft. Two survivors on the raft went on to write complete accounts of the events, including admitting to cannibalism and murder. These two accounts have become the most disgusting and sad sea story ever written.

Within years, a trial was had to determine who was the guilty party. The political class tried to frame the survivors of the raft. De Chaumery, knowing he was facing a death sentence for abandoning his crew, his passengers, and his ship, pulled every string he could to place further blame on his crew, the charts, and the weather. He was eventually let free after serving only 5 years in prison.

In addition to the ten survivors from the raft, another 5 survivors were found on the remains of the Medusa, when a salvage team went for the gold that was sunk there. The ship was soundly embedded in the sand, and served as an island for 17 crew who originally hid from the fate of the submerged raft. The story of the 17 was just as bad as the story of the raft. There was war. Drunkenness. Cannibalism. When the survivors were found, they were each hiding in separate parts of the ship. They were afraid of each other and they each clinched a weapon in their hand, as they scoured in the corners, slowly dying.

Aboard one of the small boats, a family with five children faced starvation. The children cried themselves to death, as the small boat rowed onwards to the slave trading post. The father was physically prevented from feeding his own blood to his dying children.

On the Coast, 100 miles north of the colony, a party of 60 was landed. This party shortly fell into the hands of local Moorish tribes, and despite their fears of being sold into the slave trade, they were offered water and lead to safety.

On August 29, 2019, United States Coast Guard Seaman Ethan Tucker’s Commanding Officer composed a memorandum that stated: “I consider him a serious threat to the safety of the community.” On September 18, 2020, the Coast Guard concluded Tucker’s trial and found him NOT GUILTY. This, of course, was expected by everyone who knew Tucker or the evidence of the case.

In short, not only did the Coast Guard drag Tucker’s name through the mud for over a year, calling him the murderer of his friend, they also confined him to a small island and a military prison.

If you are unfamiliar with the case, check around the internet, or look at our past two articles: Empathy for Coast Guard Seaman Ethan Tucker and How a Murder Trial Defines the Coast Guard. 

But the Coast Guard will not apologize. Instead of doing the correct thing, they move the goal post and they find Tucker guilty of “doing or failing to do certain acts that contributed to a Coast Guard member’s death” – Guilty of: 1) making a false official statement, 2) assault, 3) consuming alcohol underage, and 4) conduct of the prejudice of good order and discipline (source). This guilty conviction not only allows the Guard to justify what they’ve done to Tucker so far, it also allows them once again ignore the real reason for the Death of a Shipmate – poor leadership.  Sure, they cleared Tucker of savagely murdering his friend. But they did so over the course of a year and a half when they had no evidence to suggest he did or would do such a thing in the first place. Not only did they not have evidence, they had evidence that showed Tucker trying to help his friend, and doing so at great cost to his own wellbeing. Tucker literally passed out in the frozen tundra trying to help his friend and shipmate, and this is the Coast Guard’s response.

I’ll help the Coast Guard out on this one: I’m sorry Ethan Tucker that you lost your friend. I’m sorry that you were held unfairly, against your will, with a murder charge dangling from your neck, while your commanding officers called you names, and unwitting shipmates believed the portrait the Coast Guard painted of you without considering the known testimony and video evidence of other Coasties. I’m sorry that you now have to wear a Bad Conduct award around your neck for the continuing denial of the USCG. I’m sorry for the insurmountable pain you and your family have experienced.

And, to be clear and paramount, the Coast Guard would also like to apologize to Ethan Kelch, who lost his life over a year ago, and has not yet found a sense of justice.  He was doing what most 20 year old Seaman do on Dutch Harbor. He was a sailor. He was patriotic. He was drinking away the cognitions and emotions that arise being a junior enlisted person. He had one too many, and he had no tools to come back. He hid, as Coastie’s do, when they operate under draconian policies. I’m sorry you lost your life, while so many of us survived. I’m sorry Coast Guard leadership has failed time and time again to take responsibility for the suffering coming from Alaska. You will not be forgotten and you will be remembered as the complete human you were, with all of the traits you brought to the table. We salute your service and your life.

As we move forward, we call on the leadership in District 17 to speak clearly and truthfully about the culture it has produced. You cannot use your subordinates as shields, protecting yourself from mistakes. You cannot get away with falsifying records, with manipulating the fleets perception for your own political gain. Your orders and your comments will be equitable or we will call you on it. Captain Riddle and RADM Bell, you must take responsibility for 2019. You must both accept the condition of the Douglas Munro (just the Munro in Bell’s case) as a failure of leadership. We aren’t asking you to give up command – we want you to be better leaders. We want an apology. And you owe an apology to Tucker, Kelch, and their families.

I vow to continue collecting information on this case. Like many of the Coast Guard deaths in Alaska, this case is accompanied by curious inconsistencies. CGIS and the District 17 High Command, don’t have the cleanest past, yet they never seem to be in the spot light. I believe that more stories will come out in the near future that shows they have a loyalty to their internal objectives, and not the truth. I wonder if the CGI investigators that worked on this case also worked on the Wells’ case, the Strickland case, the Cocaine case, or the Obendorf case, or any of the other cases that were the result of death or mass suffering. Are the reports generated by the team that has an obligation only to the Commandant consistent with the truth or only with that of the Coast Guard’s sensitive image.

If you have any information of the characters or plots of the stories I write about, please forward them my way. I’d like to paint the most useful picture possible. Were you on the Munro in the past?  Do you know about mass hazing or violent harassment incidents?  Email me – Bradley@dirtysailorcompany.com

We can help out in Alaska.

There are multiple angles of attack to fix the problem of Junior Enlisted Suffering in Alaska. We can encourage our political representatives to encourage the CG to utilize current science while establishing personnel manuals – no more draconian policies, no more zero tolerance….

We can encourage the fleet to help each other. Hazing is fun, sure, but keep it fun for everyone…

We can hold leaders accountable, instead of framing them as the supreme authority….

We can build a non-profit, to promote the careers and health of junior enlisted.  On Dutch Harbor we could establish a building that is free, warm, and has a pool-table, that is for Junior Enlisted only. 

What ideas do you have? Who is interested in leading where Coast Guard Leadership isn’t?  Email us at admin@dirtysailorcompany.com