Tall Ship Tales

March saw the kids and I head to California to visit my parents again. This time we flew out of Duluth, which is a delightfully tiny, empty airport that knows nothing of lines or hassles.

When the four of us went through security we were the only people in the line, and we outnumbered the staff by two. It reminded me of flying in the previous century, back when it was fun. The only real downside was connecting through Minneapolis, which meant we had to wait a few hours for our flight to California.

From the air you can really appreciate how flat Wisconsin is, almost like a giant sheet of ice came along and smashed it.

California has changed a lot over the last few decades. I really don’t recognize it anymore. I was thinking about this on the last trip too. When I was a kid growing up in southern California there was still room for weirdness. I think housing prices have driven out the last of the odd people now, but back then you could do weird things, like build a ship in your backyard.

This story is something of a local legend. In the 1970s, in a regular suburban yard in Costa Mesa California, a man, driven by some obsession, decided to build a ship. Not just any ship, but a 118-foot replica of a Revolutionary War-era privateer. In his backyard. It took Dennis Holland 13 years to build the ship. He had to bulldoze his house to get it out and down to the harbor. That is dedication.

It was mostly before my time, but I remember it vaguely. It launched when I was 9 in 1983. Later, in high school, when I was rowing with the crew team, we’d see it going in and out of the harbor for charters.

Unsurprisingly, even as a kid I was drawn to people like Holland. I never met him, but I have always admired people with the obsessive drive to do the weird things they want to do. Most people in the world would laugh at Holland’s plan. Probably many did. He just went and did it. If you want to do something bad enough, you usually can.

Holland died over a decade ago, but the ship is still around. When you put something like that into the world, often the world takes care of it for you. Holland eventually sold the Pilgrim of Newport, as he called it, to the Ocean Institute in Dana Point (who renamed it, Spirit of Dana Point). You can still do a half day sail, just like you could when Holland was chartering it in Newport.

My kids have been begging to get on a tall ship pretty much since they found out they existed, so we signed ourselves up for a sail on the Spirit of Dana Point.

I wasn’t expecting much from the sail. Usually on these sorts of things you’re luggage, they hand you a plastic cup of juice and stow you in the back. This wasn’t like that. This was hands on sailing. The crew of Spirit of Dana Point had passengers raising the sails and steering the ship. We may not have gone far, but four hours flew by and the kids had the time of their lives.

Thanks Dennis Holland for having the crazy idea that you could built a Revolutionary War vessel in a suburban backyard and then for actually doing it. Never listen to the people who say you’re crazy to build a ship (or live in a 50 year old motorhome). Just get after it.

The Spirit of Dana Point was a tough act to follow, but we had fun just hanging around Newport. I took the kids down to The Wedge, where I used body surf.

We also went back to the Balboa Fun Zone because Elliott has been talking about it pretty much since we left it last time.

Then, after a week of citrus and summertime (and tacos), it was time to head back to the haggis and cider of the long winter.