Ocean Institute
Long Live the Pilgrim
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Shawn Wehan Hosted by Shawn Wehan

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The Pilgrim of Dana Point, the beloved vessel that has served as an inspiring real-world classroom to hundreds of thousands of students and visitors, keeled over on Saturday the 28th in her slip on the dock, rendering her useful life over. My dad, Jim "Skip" Wehan, was a long-time captain of the vessel Pilgrim. Many a memory I have of boarding the ship, sailing to Catalina, and enjoying its beauty on the West End of Dana Point Harbor. What will become of the Pilgrim is still unknown, but the Ocean Institute, as its caretaker, will most certainly be financially challenged by this sad farewell. Please make a contribution to assist the Ocean Institute, as it rebuilds its education program (potentially rebuilds the Pilgrim, a new Pilgrim, or turns it into a land-ship). All proceeds will go directly into the Ocean Institutes primary fund. Enjoy the video, a short documentary "preview" of my dad aboard the beloved Pilgrim.

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JIM WEHAN: My memories and farewell - Approximately 45 years ago, I walked out on the jetty protecting Dana Harbor to watch a beautiful Lady make her way to the protected area beneath the overlook from which native Americans had hurled dried cow hides over a century ago. She was tended to by men and women in period costume. Little did I know then, that our lives would be intertwined until her passing. She died yesterday in the middle of the night, tired, alone and unneeded. In my early thirties, in fact my whole life, I dreamed of living in the previous century. In those fantasies, I was either a stage coach driver or a ship captain. I have never controlled a team of six. My time with horses has been very limited. However, the other fantasy, I have actually lived with great gusto. I still remember the odors of hemp, tar, wet wood, canvas and paint as I first came aboard the vessel known for some strange reason as a brig. Her name was PILGRIM I can remotely feel the fear as I made my way aloft for the first time in disbelief that people actually stood on ropes underneath a wooden spar to manhandle huge sails. I had been sailing since I was nine but had never seen a pin-rail, what-alone memorized the name of each line that lived on the rail. In those early days, I thrilled at going to sea before-the-mast. I was actually living my fantasy, if for only a few days a year. Not only that, but my sons and daughters were joining me as well. Generations of Sea Scouts known in Dana Harbor as Mariners also joined me. Once, with my belly pressed against a yard, in a period costume with other men and women next to me furling sail, the thought of becoming captain flashed through my mind. It was an impossible occurrence but an enjoyable thought never-the-less. With only three weeks a year at sea, I progressed slowly from deckhand to top man to navigator and finally to third mate with a US Coast Guard master's ticket (license). Suddenly, unexpectedly the Captain became ill and my dream became real. Years of skylarking on the royal yard, burning back-stays despite the rules, swim calls with return by means of chain plates, hand over hand climbing of lines, dropping from foot ropes into the sea and perhaps most frightening to onlookers but completely safe, the hanging from foot ropes upside down into the cushion of a billowing sail, these were the adventures of this square rigger. At the end of the day, we were sailors after all. When we reached an anchorage which I, alone as captain under the Ocean Institute rules, could declare a "safe harbor", it was time to party. The hook (anchor) would hardly it the bottom before a member of the crew would shot, " Captain is this a safe harbor"? We had wonderful parties. The rum flowed. The crews were challenged to compete by providing entertainment for the captain. The main hold and sometimes the aft cabin or steerage rang with laughter and raucous shanties. It was a PILGRIM tradition at the end of every voyage, as we gathered our luggage for disembarking, to gather in the waist or the fore-deck and sing the chantey in the video. It is a fitting, sea-manly way to say goodbye. Included with the video is a chance to contribute to the "orphans and widows collection".

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