One Woman’s Opinion


by Mary Wakefield Buxton

Bermuda Bound

Urbanna, Va.— This last weekend found me in Deltaville with a gathering of “ F.O.B” (Friends of Brockett), that is, Dr. Brockett Muir of Saluda, local character sublime, to bid him farewell on his sailing voyage to Bermuda on his 29-foot cutter “Trafalgar.”

Crew on this exciting venture is son, Brockett Muir III of Chevy Chase, Maryland, and son-in law, Greg Bacon of Baltimore. Local resident Richard Naylor will join up in Hamilton for the Bermuda-Maine leg before they all fly home, leaving “Trafalgar” and laying over at Bar Harbor for the summer.

For months the good doctor has been sharing exacting tasks done on his cutter at the Deltavillle Boatyard in painstaking preparation for the trip. Such work included a going over every square inch of ship, engine, electrical circuits and even installation of a new German prop and English head. “The best of everything,” the skipper explained as the work was completed.

At last Brockett, or “Skip,” announced that “Trafalgar” was in perfect condition.

Even the brass fixtures and woodwork had been polished to a splendid sheen.

I have enjoyed receiving copies of email correspondence between skipper and crew. It did not take long for me to notice his passionate obsession for planning a perfect trip. Of course, all doctors are perfectionists; they have to be in order to offer excellence in health service which always requires demanding attention to detail.

Although there is no alcohol whilst at sea, “Trafalgar” will carry a supply of tasty food to include fresh eggs and milk so that Greg can prepare his grandmother’s famous recipe for buttermilk pancakes at breakfast. Also, there will be fresh meat, dry foods like pasta and cereal, canned meats, fish, fruit and vegetables. In case of rough seas and any touch of mal de mer, ginger snaps and ginger ale will be on hand.

The allotment of fresh water is one gallon to each man per day, to be used as one wishes. The sailboat will carry medical equipment and medicine such as an assortment of catheters, pain pills, suppositories, salves, penicillin and other antibiotics. If any real health emergencies should arise, at least there is a doc on board who can even provide minor emergency surgery.

Skip, a long time sailor with a naval air military background, has sailed to many exotic places in his lifetime, including a trip from Helsinki, Finland, to St. Petersburg, Russia, two years ago.

The watches for a three-man crew are set in three 5-hour shifts and three 3-hour shifts. Thus, they will run 2100 to 2400, 0000 to 0300, 0300 to 0600, 0600 to 1100, 1100 to 1600, and 1600 to 2100. Standby watch does cooking and cleanup.

For fun, Skip has informed the crew there are “two decks of cards on board.” If that does not quite do it, there are also a few books on marlinspike seamanship and several scintillating volumes on navigation to bone up on, whilst one awaits the next stint at the helm.

“Perhaps we could take a turn on splicing a Sampson’s braid or tie a Turk’s Head on the steering wheel,” he wrote as a suggestion to his crew who were advised that they might want to consider bringing some of their own books in order to pass any free time.

There is also a quite respectable 1928 version of a leather bound “Book of Common Prayer” on board should there be any religious ceremonies required. Should there be a tragic death at sea, any bodies will be delivered reverently to the sea with the proper Anglican rites spoken.

Engraved ship-note paper in creamed ivory was ordered with Trafalgar’s name on it, and even an English brass teapot purchased “with a whistle on it that sounds like the night train to Scotland,” certainly a sound that one would hope to hear whilst sipping English breakfast tea at sea.

Clothing had to be appropriate with working khakis with proper wear for rough seas sure to be experienced. Evening dress for dinners at the Royal Hamilton Amateur Dinghy Club in Hamilton where the Trafalgar will lay over for a week will call for navy blazers and white slacks.

The last meal at “Leafwood” before departure was “kidney stew and scones,” which wife and good sport, Joann, had prepared for her family. Hold the marmite. Perhaps even downed with a dram of grog to bolster the spirit.

Another son-in-law, Urbanna native Joe Milby, who now lives in Maryland, told me he had been invited to go on the voyage but had declined since he had been on Brockett’s last voyage to Bermuda 15 years ago. “It was a wonderful once-in-a-lifetime experience,” Joe said.

None of this may seem in any way out of the ordinary. Except for one thing. Brockett Muir turns 75 in June. A remarkable man who still practices medicine, he has an indomitable spirit and energy with a curious and entirely insatiable mind. He sets a good example for the rest of us.

“I am looking forward to being master of my ship, and leaving Darfur, suicide bombers and Nancy Pelosi behind,” Brockett told me.

“This is the US cutter ‘Trafalgar’ requesting permission to enter Hamilton harbor,” I imagine he will soon be radioing ashore.

“Nice name for your ship,” he may hear in response. Perhaps even an imagined chorus of bagpipes as the sweet “Trafalgar” enters Hamilton Harbor with its trio of wild, seafaring “Scotsmen” come home once again to a piece of England.

The Skip is well known for a certain “joie de vivre” along with a measure of “esprit de corps.” His philosophy might be summed up in the following: “Life is not a journey to the grave with the intention of arriving safely in a pretty and well persevered body, but rather to skid in broadside, thoroughly used up, totally worn out and loudly proclaiming, “Wow! What a ride!”

Fair winds, Skip!

[This story is reprinted from the May 24, 2007 issue.]