Aquasition of a Dream: Sailing Away to Paradise

By Scott B. Murray

Aquasition is a story about fulfilling a dream.
About an obsession with the sea.
The feeling you get when the wind blows across your bow,
the rails bury, as your vessel finds its grove and you
become one with wind and sea. A silent rush of adrenaline
as you glide effortlessly across the sea propelled solely by wind and will.
Pure unbridled joy I tell this story as closely as possible from my ships logs and memory.
If I have forgotten a few facts, or people, or a few places, I apologize in advance to those that helped and sailed with me along the way. You all have my never ending thanx and appreciation for contributing to what has become a wonderful life.
Enjoy the ride!

• Language: English
• Publisher: AuthorHouse
• Release date: Jan 28, 2019
• ISBN: 9781546277262

Scott B. Murray

The author was born in the Midwest, Detroit Michigan, living in Ohio and St louis Mo until the age of nine. Moved to Massachusetts, saw the sea, and fell in love. He loved being near or on the water anytime he had the opportunity. At thirteen one astute teacher thought that he was dyslexic and sent him home with a note for his parents. He signed the note himself stating that his son was fine and did not need to go to special class. He taught himself to read at 15. At twenty-five he discovered his passion, sailing. He wanted to sail the world. He started a used car business M&M Auto, a printing company Murray Graphics and then working for Labs Inc. Anything to make money to sail. At Twenty-nine he started Murray international, chartering boats, and working with Lyle on “Sail New England” a sailing show on the sports channel. Learning how to make money sailing. By thirty-one he crossed the pond. He would fly back and forth from all over the world, building Labs to a National and Caribbean company eventually becoming CEO. All the while stealing every second he could to sail and escape the pressures of running over 30 offices with close to four hundred employees’. Sailing was the only way to hold it together. This is the beginning of his story.

Book preview

Copyright © 2019 Scott B. Murray. All rights reserved.

No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted by any means without the written permission of the author.

Published by AuthorHouse  01/25/2019

ISBN: 978-1-5462-7398-1 (sc)

ISBN: 978-1-5462-7726-2 (e)

Library of Congress Control Number: 2019900159

Any people depicted in stock imagery provided by Getty Images are models,

and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only.

Certain stock imagery © Getty Images.

Because of the dynamic nature of the Internet, any web addresses or links contained in this book may have changed since publication and may no longer be valid. The views expressed in this work are solely those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the views of the publisher, and the publisher hereby disclaims any responsibility for them.

Contents

Acknowledgments

A Dream

Chapter 1   St. Tropez, The Culmination of a Dream, Cruising the Riviera

Chapter 2   My First Sails, The Inspiration of a Dream, Learning to Sail on the North Shore

Chapter 3   Shakedown Sail, the Realization of a Dream, Practicing in the Bahamas

Chapter 4   The Culmination of a Dream, St. Tropez to Cannes to Monte Carlo

Chapter 5   Elizabeth Lee, Learning to Sail, The Inspiration of a Dream, Essex, MA

Chapter 6   Pond Prep, The Realization of a Dream, Getting Ready to Leave

Chapter 7   Life in the Riviera, The Culmination of a Dream

Chapter 8   Sanctuary, The Inspiration of a Dream, Back on the North Shore, MA

Chapter 9   Miami to Bermuda, The Realization of a Dream, On Our Way

Chapter 10   Hanging out in France, The Culmination of a Dream

Chapter 11   My First Boat, The Inspiration of a Dream

Chapter 12   Sailing across the Pond, The Realization of a Dream, The Longest Leg Of The Journey

Chapter 13   Sailing from Cannes to Corsica, The Culmination of a Dream

Chapter 14   Cruising with the Catalina Fleet, The Inspiration of a Dream

Chapter 15   Finding the Azores, The Realization of a Dream, The Longest Leg

Chapter 16   From Corsica to Capri, The Culmination

Chapter 17   Finding Shaman Again, The Inspiration, A Miracle!

Chapter 18   Adventurer in the Azores, The Realization of a Dream

Chapter 19   Ponza to Mesina, The Culmination of a Dream

Chapter 20   Bringing Shaman Home, The Inspiration of a Dream, A Dream Becomes Reality

Chapter 21   Azores to Lisbon, The Realization of a Dream, Crossed the Pond

Chapter 22   Messina to Zakynthos, The Culmination of a Dream, Italy to Greece

Chapter 23   Back in the States, Refitting at Desmond’s Yacht Yard, The Inspiration of a Dream, Making Shaman Ship-Shape!

Chapter 24   Sailing from Lisbon to Gibraltar by Way of Morocco, The Realization of a Dream, We’ve Crossed the Pond—Now What?

Chapter 25   Sailing from Zakynthos to Spetses, The Culmination of a Dream, Cruising around Greece

Chapter 26   Boston to Newport, The Jazz Festival, The Inspiration—Finally on Our Way

Chapter 27   Morocco to Gibraltar, The Realization of a Dream, The Great Escape

Chapter 28   The Flying Dolphin to Hydra and On to Athens, The Culmination of a Dream, Finished Crossing the Med!

Chapter 29   New York to the Chesapeake, The Inspiration of a Dream, Playing Chicken with a Tugboat

Chapter 30   Gib to Barcelona, The Realization of a Dream, Ambushed by the French Navy

Chapter 31   Sailing down the Ditch to Savannah, The Inspiration of a Dream, Happy Birthday to Me

Chapter 32   The Balearic Islands, The Realization of a Dream, One of the Most Dangerous Destinations of the Voyage

Chapter 33   From Georgia to West Palm, The Inspiration of a Dream, We Get our First Taste of Bad Weather

Chapter 34   Sailing from Ibiza to St. Tropez, The Realization of a Dream, Experiencing the Côte d’Azur for the First Time

Chapter 35   Inside from West Palm to Ft. Lauderdale, The Inspiration of a Dream, Finishing the East Coast Transit

For m

y dad. I miss you so much. He always said he would write a book someday about his life’s stories. I will never get a chance to read it. He ran out of time! So, Dad, here it is, my story.

Acknowledgments

Special thanks to

Mom and Dad (Jack and Mary Lou). They always said I could do or be anything. They believed in me and gave me their full support in my many endeavors and accomplishments so far in life! They gave me the world!

Lyle Brown, for teaching me and learning with me how to sail and how to live. Mostly, thanks for being a good friend.

My loving wife, Sherry, my new sailing partner. She kept me alive to write this.

My brothers, Sean, Shannon, and Shelley, my closest friends and greatest supporters.

Jacqueline Murray (aka Jackie or Jack), a fellow adventurer, first wife, and lifelong friend. She helped me create and achieve this dream. Together, we made it happen. Jack has more guts than anyone I have ever sailed with. She is still sailing through life with us. It’s funny how things work out if you care enough.

To the friends who have chartered and sailed the oceans and seas with me over the years: Jeff, Tom, the Pirate, Magoo, Theo, and many others. You’ve all helped me to achieve my dream.

To Robert Hubbard, one of the North Shore Boys. He’s been after me for years to write. The North Shore Boys may be my next subject.

And finally, to Mark Desmond. He gave me a word processor fifteen years ago and told me, Start now, don’t wait until tomorrow. It doesn’t come.

I started this book years ago. I laid it out and wrote the first seven chapters. Then I went sailing again through life. Now, fifteen years later, I am starting again. It seems like only a moment has passed.

Am I the dreamer or

Is this just a chapter?

In another’s dream!

I’ve started upon this road before

Once and again.

Last time I closed the door,

For fear of what I might begin.

Once again, I feel that yearning from within

To complete this dream in my head.

With my dad at my side, I can no longer give in.

I’ll finish the dream and live it for him!

Story Format: Three Stories Told in Unison

Story 1: The Culmination of a Dream

Story 2: The Inspiration of a Dream

Story 3: The Realization of a Dream

A Dream

Dimillo’s is an old ferryboat converted into a floating restaurant in the harbor of Portland, Maine. It is surrounded by a marina of floating docks and pylons. It is a majestic spot typical of old Down East Maine. Mum and Dad wanted to take me someplace special for my twenty-fifth birthday. They brought to Dimillo’s for Sunday brunch to celebrate.

I can’t believe it. Twenty-five years old, a quarter of a century. What am I to do with my life? I still don’t know what I want to be or do. I wanted to be a rock star, but that didn’t pan out. I need to make money to live a comfortable life, but I have no plan, no goals. My life is a third of the way gone. What do I want out of life? Where am I going? Who am I?

All this serious thinking is ruining my appetite. Time to think about something to eat. I think I’ll have some lobster Newburg, and wash it down with a little Pouilly-Fuissé. I don’t know where I am going, but I know what I like. The dinner is lovely, but I still can’t keep thoughts of the future from slipping in.

After the meal, I excuse myself and head off to the men’s room. As I walk out of the men’s room, I notice, out the window, across the way, the most beautiful ship I have ever seen.

She calls to me.

She is old yet new.

The hull is fiberglass but made to look like wood. The topsides are all teak. Teak decks, teak pilothouse, two wooden masts—gorgeous.

I have never seen a boat like this before.

This would be a nice dream! Someday, when I am fifty, I could retire and buy a boat like this and sail around the world. I could pack it in, buy a boat, and just sail off.

Hey, Scott, I thought we lost you, Dad exclaims, waking me from my dream of a life on the sea.

I must have been standing transfixed for a while. They had paid the check and were ready to leave.

Dad, look at that boat. Wouldn’t it be great to buy a boat like that and just sail away? I say.

That would be a dream, dad replies.

Yes, a dream of a life on the sea.

An aquatic dream.

I have acquired my aquatic dream.

An aquasitition of a dream.

I don’t know who I am or what I will become, but I know someday I want to sail off into the sunset.

As we leave Dimillo’s, I take one last look at my dream ship and read the name on her transom:

Shaman

Shaman: a wise man or conjurer who influences the good spirits that wander the winds!

14.jpg

Shaman Brochure Front

15.jpg

SHAMAN BROCHURE BACK

Chapter 1

St. Tropez, The Culmination of a Dream, Cruising the Riviera

The wind is calm but blowing a steady twelve to fourteen knots. Shaman is sailing along on a port tack in all he glory. She is flying all four sails—Genny, Staysail, Main, and Mizzen. The sails are trimmed perfectly. The sea’s running two to three feet, evenly and well spaced. The sun is high, and the sky is clear. The waters are that azure blue you only find on the coast of the French Riviera. You couldn’t ask for more. Shaman’s right in the groove, sailing perfectly balanced with wind and rudder. We are one with the sea, and she is making 6 knots on her own. I don’t have to touch the helm. This is one of those intense moments in life when everything is just as you planned, just the way you imagined it would be someday, out on the deck of your yacht, sailing with friends in the South of France, the Riviera, The Cote d’Azur. It doesn’t get much better than this.

We left port de la Rague this morning at the crack of noon. It is a quaint little port just southwest of Cannes. We had no destination until we were about a mile out. The wind was blowing out of the Alps, down from the northeast, making for an easy sail down to St. Tropez. If it were blowing from the other direction, we would have sailed to Monaco.

I try to sail whichever way the wind blows. I have found that if I make plans to sail to a charted destination, the wind is always right off the nose. It has gotten to the point where I’ll plot a course on the chart in the other direction the night before, trying to fool the gods of the winds, but they cannot be fooled easily. In the morning, the wind will still be off the nose in the direction that I really planned to sail. It is so much easier sailing the way the wind blows.

Here comes my friend Theo up from the pilothouse.

Hey, Skippy, my tapeworm’s hungry.

Oh well, back to reality.

Six of my friends have flown in from stateside for a fun-filled charter in the Cote D’Azur. And yours truly is captain, cook, and bottle washer. Well, two out of three. My trusty crew, the Pirate, takes care of the latter. Looks like it’s time to cook dinner. We are having fruit de la mer tonight. That’s mussels, shrimp, and squid in a marinara sauce on pasta. Seafood is abundant here at the morning markets, and it is an easy dish to prepare while we are underway. Andy will take the helm while I cook. Time to uncork a bottle of Puligny-Montrachet.

Hey, Kris, why don’t you open this bottle seeing that Theo is winged.

Everyone laughs.

Shortly after, Theo and Bri arrived. We had plans to visit my friend Patrick at the Marco Polo in Théoule-sur-Mer. He serves great local cuisine, and after dinner, we would lock ourselves in with the local talent and drink until sunrise.

While exiting the boat, Theo said, Hey, Skippy, watch me fall in the water with these Gucci loafers. He slid down the gangway and hurt his wrist. We went off to the Polo and filled him with Stoli. We locked the doors, but Theo didn’t last until sunrise. Theo started to faint.

The next morning, we dropped Theo at the hospital, and we hit the beaches. One of the best local beaches for watching talent is Juan Les Pins. Kris and Arthur were trying to decide how to write a guide for the single American male traveling the Riviera. They were trying to create an accurate rating system by which they could compare beaches, women, and breasts by quantity and quality per square meter of sand.

Another great idea never realized.

We went back to the hospital to find Theo outside waiting for us. He wondered where we had been all morning. They X-rayed him, put him in a cast, and sent him on his way. They charged him 250 francs, or $40 with their socialized medicine, the price of a bottle of Cristal.

The dinner is ready. I eat while I cook so that I can take the helm while the guests all eat. The Pirate serves the meal and then eats while he cleans up. This system works well, and I am sure Andy is getting tired of the helm.

The sun is starting to set to the west. The sea is turning a bright purple color. It’s no wonder that so many of the great impressionists painted this coast. It’s beyond words.

Hey, where am I?

We should be there by now. According to my dead reckoning, we should have been in port by sunset.

Hey, Arty, can you take the helm for a spell?

I will have to check out the charts and see where we are. Time to play captain. (Never let the crew know that you don’t know where you are.)

JP, did you get the Loran working yet? JP is the only other person on the boat with sailing experience.

Sure. Why? You lost? he responds. Great. So much for secrecy.

No, I think Andy sailed by the port while I was cooking, I suggest. After plotting the latlong coordinates on the chart, I realize we are only about 1 nautical mile beyond the port. Time to come about. I guess I can’t blame Andy for the error.

About an hour later, we are sailing into the port of St. Tropez. The town is gorgeous, pastel pink with orange clay roofs running up the hill to purple twilight. Turning into the wind, we drop all the sails and fire up the engine. To enter the port, we must follow the sea wall to the north then bear west and back south into the narrow port entrance. The port is packed. There is no way we’ll find an open slip. The light breeze is taking us down the main channel into a shallow dead end. I drop the engine into reverse to slow our progress. The channel is about 80 feet wide, and the Shaman runs about 60 feet, bowsprit to dinghy davits. Time for a command decision. There is no way to back out of this port, and I am running out of water. The adrenaline flows. I pull the boat all the way to starboard and give her full forward to port the bow shoots across the channel. I am about to T-bone a thirty-meter luxury yacht. I drop her back into full reverse and cut the rudder hard to starboard, and the bow is heading north again. To the crew, it looks as if I turned on a dime. They cheer, faith renewed in their captain. I shrug it off and act as if I do it all the time. Thank God the bow came around.

Never let them see you sweat!

Time to take the boys out and show them the town.

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Shaman in port, French Riviera

Chapter 2

My First Sails, The Inspiration of a Dream, Learning to Sail on the North Shore

Sail on.

It’s a crisp winter morning. The sun is shining. The phone rings.

Hey, Bobbi, what’s up?

Just got back from Boston with an 18-foot Hobie Cat I bought at the boat show. Its wicked fast. It will do thirty-six knots, and it can pull a water skier. Want to try it out?

Sure, why not?

I guess I am the only person he knows who sails that owns a wetsuit and is crazy enough to go sailing in early March. Well, two out of three’s not bad. I do own a wetsuit, and I have gone diving in the winter.

The sailing, that’s another story. I read about sailing all the time. I dream of sailing around the world. I tried it once. After reading everything I could about sailing, I went down to Wells Yacht in Marblehead and rented a Rhodes 19. I knew enough of the terminology that they believed I knew what I was doing. We went out to the sailboat in their launch. I jumped off. They threw me a sail bag and motored away.

I can’t believe it. I am actually going sailing on my own. I have sailed on many cattle boats, and I’ve taken tourist rides, but I have never been on a boat alone.

Well, time to sail. The sails are not on the