For The Love of The Sea
At seventeen, fresh out of High School, I had no clue what I was going to do with the remainder of my life. Some might say that in retirement, I face the same dilemma. An opportunity arose to join the HMCS Nonsuch Naval Reserve Unit in Edmonton, so thinking of nothing else, I enlisted. It would certainly be a defining moment in my life with eternal bonds of friendship that have lasted even amid the storms that life brings to us.
After a summer of basic training, I decided to stay on and take the trade of signalman while I decided on the paths I would take. Within a few months, our ship’s company was aboard a Hercules aircraft headed for Esquimalt and the first test of my seaworthiness dispatched to the small boat unit and the HMCS Porte Quebec.
The Porte Quebec was a Gate Vessel used to drop submarine netting across harbour entrances, but now it was used to train both reserve and regular force members in the art of being a sailor.
It was once said that if you could set sail on her, you could sail on anything. Surrounding her were the many Frigates to which I trained to augment, tied securely to the Jetty at Esquimalt Harbour.
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The purpose of these sails was not only to work on the trade you were training for but also to become experienced sailors in every aspect of the running of the ship. I stood with pride on the well deck the next morning as Commander Brownfield took the Salute as we sailed out of the harbour into the open ocean.
There is a story of the witch of the sea and how it changes you like a curse. When people ask me, even today, if I believe in mermaids, my instant reply is yes. There is something about being on the open water that bewitches the mind, and you become one with the water and all that lies beneath.
My first time at the helm was that very day, repeating commands and following as the officer of the watch’s voice flowed down through the voice pipe. Watching the Gyro compass as waves and currents tried desperately to push you off course. It gives one a powerful sense of just how little control man has over the natural processes of the world and often the lack of respect we show it.
This sail would take us around the Channel Islands, dot the Juan De Fuca Strait, and then down to Seattle, Washington. My first watch as a signalman was that evening; the air on the bridge was musty and heavy. I asked permission to get some air and take the TED remote up top to work from there, as hardly any signal was being sent.
Going up top in the cold October night sky, you could feel the ocean, but you could not see it. The world above and below had been cast into total darkness, and I immediately thought of the prairie night sky at the farm, with only the light of the moon and stars to bring you home.
Meanwhile, Commander Brownfield came to the bridge and noted that my presence was not in the com shack. When the officer of the watch explained where I was, I think his first thought was that I was asleep, and he climbed up top to check and see for himself. Rather cold a night to be up top, Mr. B, don’t you think? Just as he said that an explosive aurora streaked across the sky, illuminating everything around us and over us. There was no sky and no sea, just flashes of colour as the lights danced across the skyline.
For me, that moment became defining. As I looked at Commander Brownfield, I knew this was where we belonged, at one with the sea and the lights dancing around us. Then, almost as quickly as it had begun, it passed. In that instant, I found both a love for the sea and a lifelong friendship that would endure, even across thousands of miles.
The gate vessels have long since been decommissioned and salvaged, as has my first frigate, HMCS Restigouche. Yet the memories and camaraderie of those I sailed with have endured. The sea continues to call us back and call us home. Commander Ed Brownfield recently moved to Victoria, perhaps so he could hear that call more clearly. As for me, I need only look across the horizon, over the flowing fields of wheat and barley, and she comes to me in the night sky, sailing me into the stars.
