Nao Trinidad: Historical Traditions in Modern Times
Oyster Sloop, Christeen, for over a decade. Built in 1883, CHRISTEEN acts as a floating classroom to educate up to 20 passengers about local and traditional maritime history, marine science, coastal ecology, the oyster industry, and aquaculture. Volunteering on CHRISTEEN continues to captivate my father with the magic of the ocean and sailing traditions of the Bay. I wanted an opportunity to discover the magic of the sea.
In October 2023, Nao Trinidad docked in Oyster Bay for the Annual Oyster Festival on October 14 & 15. The Trinidad is a 16th-century tall ship replica, one of Ferdinand Magellan's fleet, which sailed from Spain and aimed to circumnavigate the globe. Its massive presence loomed over Oyster Bay, emulating a wooden pirate ship from yesteryear. Its crew was from Spain, and a sign outside the ship bore simple words – LOOKING FOR VOLUNTEERS.
When my dad volunteered, so did I. On Monday after the festival, we joined on a 3-day sail to Delaware City, taking shifts from 6 p.m. to 12 a.m. and 6 a.m.-12 p.m. each day. We took off from Oyster Bay Harbor and waved our goodbyes as we passed CHRISTEEN and headed around Centre Island to the start of our adventure.
Trinidad took on the Long Island Sound and met the East River at Hell's Gate, an infamous passage for sailors characterized by hazardous, converging currents. The concrete and glass jungle juxtaposed Trinidad's creaking wood and rope façade, two worlds that would have completely missed each other without this journey. As we passed, pedestrians stopped their morning commutes and gawked. After navigating under eight bridges, we passed the Statue of Liberty and entered the Atlantic.
I could only describe the following days on the water as surreal. I spent late nights watching the mast rock back and forth against the stars, a blazing sun emerging and lighting up the water each morning, drifting into a deep sleep with the ocean's pull lapping the hull. I thought being crew meant making the ship go – steering and lifting sails. Instead, I fell in love with the crew's true role – maintenance. I Swabbed the deck with salt water, checked the engines, updated the navigation log, prepared nourishing Spanish meals, and looked to the horizon. We coiled rope, tied rope, heaved rope, and released rope. In the Atlantic, I rediscovered peace, self-reliance, and comraderie.
We made it to Delaware City within three days, a trip that would have taken 3 hours of driving. Sailing isn't always about efficiency, ease, or big waves. The journey connected me to the tradition of self-reliance in the face of uncertainty. Sailing requires patience, listening, humility, and quiet. Sailing is hard, diligent work that allows you to go places you never expected.
After the trip, I understood what my father talked about all those years. At The Waterfront Center, Christeen is a living testament to the people who made Oyster Bay come alive. Christeen's volunteers, including my father, work tirelessly to maintain the vessel, not just sail her. In the age of technology and mass production, sometimes we lose the art of maintenance and self-reliance. The magic of the sea is a lesson that we can all find in the calm and slow traditions of our past.
