Judy P's Tickle Trunk

I’ve had much better luck naming my boats than I have had in naming my cats, two of which were named ‘Puss’ (the cats, not the boats).

Billy's Boat

My first boat was a 40 year old tender passed on by my neighbour Billy; it was either us or the trash heap. A new transom made her seaworthy and I explored the inner part of Prospect Bay in her until the next boat came along, at which time I gave her back. Billy is long gone but his boat is still in the garage next door, now showing her age. I never officially named her but referred to her affectionately as “Billy’s Boat”.

Aro

My second boat, a cosine wherry built in the basement,  was named Aro after my father. From him I inherited my skipper’s genes and he was responsible for my love of boating, boil-ups, and badness. His name was Harold but in our local dialect it sounded more like “Are-oh”. Indeed, she tracked straight and true as an arrow. She was, by the way, in NO way similar to the Albanian military vehicle bearing the same name.

The Aro

My biggest boat was renamed and Christened in fine style as per John Vigor’s protocol. She went from being Lochgoil (try saying that three times over the VHF radio) to Petrelle after the proper spirits were invoked and she was doused with champagne with a chaser of Newfie Screech.

Petrelle gets her name.

 According to Vigor it is auspicious to use the name of a bird in the naming of a boat and the petrel was more than suitable – a small northern seabird found mainly offshore (in fact they only come ashore to breed, nudge, nudge, wink, wink). I saw several of them on my first offshore trip to Bermuda on Ceol Mor. The word petrel comes from the Latin word for St. Peter; petrels hover just over the ocean waves with their feet almost touching the water, kind of like St. Peter who is said to have walked on water. In fact, part of the reason that I chose the bird is that the letters which make up the name Peter are in the word petrel – she is named for three Peters above and beyond St. Peter. Peter my Grandfather who was a schooner captain extraordinaire, Peter my brother who first took me sailing and helped my make up my mind about buying my own boat and who always has an ear for my crazy ideas, and a Mr. Peters who advised me to buy a Westerly and to do it before I was too old to enjoy it. Peter: solid as a rock. But the name was too hard, too masculine and I wished to make her a girl’s boat so I tacked on “elle” to femme her up a little.

Last glimpse of Petrelle

(I recently heard of the young Australian sailor named Jessica Watson who has a bubble gum pink boat named Ella’s Pink Lady – I wish I could have been so bold as to paint my hull fuschia and call her Pink Petrel)

Lancelot in Prospect Bay

My next to last boat was a Pokeboat which I named Lancelot after Lancelot du Lac and Lance, who introduced me to Pokeboats and who also happens to be my knight in shining armour. She unfortunately does not have  the attributes of a lance in that she does not track at all straight and always wants to round up when the wind or the current is astern.  But she is lovely when heading into the wind, and is stable, reliable and very able to carry the king’s ransom in beach salvage. All good, because being a Parsons, I have always preferred to paddle and row against the wind.

That brings me to my current boat: Paddle Song. She’s in.

Paddle Song

Paddle Song, without her name, had been sitting in my backyard on cinder blocks for over fifteen years. She was passed on by my other neighbour, George, who wasn’t up to doing the necessary repairs. Nor were we, and I tried to give her away two or three times but those who examined her thought her long beyond repair. Enter Peter en route to Ontario. He spotted her immediately and we wandered out to have a look. He stood, leaned slightly back with his shoulders rounded, one hand in his pocket and the other rubbing his chin, contemplating her hull. “Sure she’s not rotten” he exclaimed. My eyebrows lifted. “No?” She appeared so to me. With her boards completely pulled away from the stem and her gunnels crumbling she seemed fit only for fuel for bonfire night or to demonstrate Joey Smallwood’s proclamation “Burn your boats, there’ll be two jobs for every man”. (I’ve been misquoting that for years; he actually said “Boys, pull up your boats, burn your flakes; there will be two jobs for every man in Newfoundland”)

George's derelict

Sick stem syndrome

It actually took a week and a temporary boat shelter on the back deck, a pallet of caulking, and a frenzy of painting to make her shipshape. Peter worked like a man possessed and I came home from work on the last day, just in the nick of time to prevent him from painting my paddles blue. Pete left town, I set about finding a name.

Paddle Song in transit.

Paddle Song gets her stern wet.

Yes byes, she’s in. And she rows straight and true like all good rowboats should. Speed bonnie boat, like a bird on the wing……..

Sky boat song.