A Path Home For Bakerman

Sea. An everlasting body of water. Fresh. Salt on a microscopic level. Clear. Shallow light. Dark in the abyss. Fish and sunken ships. Oh the light houses adorning coasts up and down the sea spayed shore. Myths as old as time touch the lens of port holes to books and sailors alike to bask in the beauty that is the ravenous sweet harmonious maven of the sea. Indebted are the adventurous to the sweet song of waves crashing, slurping, shhhhh-ing in retreat below the seagull cacophony above the sea.

Philip Maren is one such adventurer who tempts fate with the seemingly endless serpentine horizon mariners are captivated by since their childhood years spent aboard ship. It was his father and his fathers father before him who have preserved the tradition of seafaring; and Philip has done well to pass it on in the Maren family name to his son Matty.

Hi, I’m Matty. I’m eleven. You are reading this probably thinking this wasn’t how you’d imagine the direction of this insert. I’m precocious as I am told and my writing isn’t anywhere close to kids my age nor the adults for that matter. I write stories - based on real life happening in our sleepy little New England village - Lachlan. Even Miss Mary reads them, though sometimes I think she’d appreciate me keeping my nose down studying science instead of reaping and sowing into other peoples business. One calls it a scuttlebutt, I call it people-science. But hey, it’s talent. Gotta work to sharpen it somehow, right? (*wink*;)

Okay, I’m just a tad cheeky and like to run my mouth a lot so I think it’s best I get back to the original story about my dad. He’s my real hero. Although Miss Mary is on Friday’s because she sometimes lets me leave school hours early to head down to the docks. Though (ha ha) I MAY leave that extra hour ‘early’ and she hasn’t come down on me hard with detention or called the ‘rents, so far. Win! Changing course now...

The ships in harbor span from old wooden rackety vessels tied to time tested sturdy pallet docks to new luxury liners mostly coasting some distance beyond the cape owned by seasonal visitors. To the Maren family blood runs thick, as does passion to feed locals, stock businesses with an abundance of fresh caught fare and entertain the occasional tourist of New England’s best kept secret. The family’s heritage in Lachlan can be traced all the way back to 1837, and since then the village population and county industries boomed.

In a former life Philip had enlisted in the US Coast Guard directly after graduating high school, serving a full tour at sea. One day when ‘the guard’ were docked on land he fell under the spell of a beautiful woman named Victoria Netty from neighboring Stephensstown and the rest is history.

Fast forward to today, Philip owns a commercial fishery and private day charter. His personal boat in the fleet is a 1997 40 foot commercial sea harvester, christened The Bakerman. The name of the boat is a tribute to the Laid Back, a musical group, and their 1990 one-hit wonder Bakerman. It was Philip’s and his dad’s favorite tune because it spoke symbolically to the duty and sacrifice of seafarers.

Matty, who knows every lyric by heart, leads with the same signature au revoir since he was 2,

“Bakerman, run home. Take it easy”.

To which Philip (and grandad way back when) always fashioned,

“I’m baking bread little man. Be home soon.”

Dad and I are obsessed with Bakerman!! Like, c’mon have you listened to it? It’s our jam cleaning deck.

On a typical early Saturday in late September, Matty and Victoria were helping Philip get The Bakerman ready to set sail for one of the last private charters of the year: first checking equipment, then readying the poles and tackle, ice and bate. According to the weather report, the day should be clear with a slight overcast. A good day, in other words. Down south there’s a tropical storm rearing the coastal US, however it is highly unlikely to reach this far north and with very little speed.

The family said their Maren au revoir and The Bakerman set its bow frontward out into the open sea for a day of deep sea fishing.

Around or before 5 pm is when The Bakerman usually ropes onto the dock, though she was nowhere to be found. Victoria received a call from a partner at the marina notifying that her husband has not returned yet, but not to worry because Philip is an experienced US Coast Guardsman and seafarer. Within the hour the skies had darkened considerably, and this sign could only mean the storms from the south have progressed and expanded quickly.

Matty: “Dad’s caught in the storm isn’t he?”

Victoria nodded in the affirmative.

Matty runs to his room to find his portable VHF radio and turns it on.

Matty: “Bakerman. How’s she faring? Over.”

Nothing.

Matty: “Bakerman. Are you within range, can you hear me? Over.”

Static.

Victoria: “Dad’s far out in the water honey. He knows what he is doing. I’m sure dad will be home in a little while. Be patient.”

The look on the wife, the mothers face is of worry, the words spoken of a woman who is wide eyed and slow to speak said clearly what she really felt in this moment.

Like a bolt of lightning and with pure adrenaline kicking in, Matty rushed cramming the VHF radio in his backpack and ran down the stairs and out the door to his bike peddling straight toward the lighthouse on the pier.

The winds and waves were picking up dramatically with each minute on the cape.

Behind a circular floating device was a key opening the lighthouse. In the lantern room he set up the two-way communication radio in attempt at another signal to The Bakerman.

Matty: “Is anyone out there? Over.”

Philip: “This is Bakerman. We’re at sea. Waves are tall. Looking for entry. Lachlan. Over.”

Matty: “Dad - It’s Matty. Thank God you’re alright. At starboard light now. Over.”

Philip: “Lights. Approx. 5 miles out. Port and starboard lights on? Over.”

Matty sets down the talkie. He realized the light had not turned on like they were supposed to because the storm came in too quickly...looking around the wide lamplight he switched the lever to the right.

GREEN. It glowed.

On the opposite side is another lighthouse on the port and its light rotates red, now each side signals a safe entry to guide a path home for the Bakerman charter.

Matty: “Do you see it dad? Over.”

Philip: “I see it now son. Bakerman is on her way home. Over and out.”

By the end of the night the entire Maren family got to take it easy, slow down and relax because at that very moment it was too late to worry. Everyone is safe. Matty and Victoria's Bakerman included. The time for another sea fare could wait another day.