Part 3 of a 3-part series in the life of Chris Gilmore
I awoke from my state of fear, and he continued, “We’re taking on too much water, get the bucket and start bailing. Don’t worry, the storm will pass!”
I started bailing, and from the corner of my eye, I saw Chris calmly take the GPS from his pocket. Then he turned the boat around and we started to head south. I thought he was crazy.
“What are you doing?” I screamed. “The port is in the other direction!”
“Don’t you worry, just keep on bailing.” He replied. “I just need to keep us off of the beach.”
I bailed franticly for fifteen minutes until the rain started to let up. The whole time I looked back at Chris. He sat there on the helm, calmly staring at his GPS, almost smiling. When the rain stopped and visibility returned, to my astonishment we were in the exact same spot as when the storm hit us. Then the wind returned to 10 mph and the sun came out. I was standing in the hold dumfounded.
“That was one hell of a squall!” Chris said with a smile.
“Damn, I thought we were done for…”
“No Matey, you just have to keep your wits about you. Storms like that never last long.” He said confidently.
“That was scary. Why didn’t you keep heading towards the port? What if the rain didn’t stop?”
“It’s the magic of GPS my friend. With a squall from the south, it’s always best to head slowly toward the direction of the wind. That minimizes the water we take on. The GPS makes it easy to stay in position between the island and the beach.”
“Wow, now I know why you never leave the port without it,” I reflected.
“And what have I always taught you? On a Hobie, on your surfboard, in the ocean?” He said giving me an extra hard stare.
I quietly replied, “Always stay calm…”
“Calm!” he yelled. “Yes, always stay calm. Your life can depend on it!”
Ah, those were exciting days aboard Rubáiyát. Unfortunately, 2003 would be our last season out on faithful Ruby.
In 2004, Chris developed brain cancer and died in July of that year. For the following twenty years, I returned to Essaouira and took care of the boat with new paint and nails. She was too difficult for me to sail alone, so I just did maintenance. In 2016, the port officials moved Rubáiyát to the entrance of the port near the police checkpoint. This was a place of distinction, so I was happy to keep her looking the best I could. But time is hard on dry wooden boats and she was beyond repair when I was in Essaouira this year. Her mast was down, the rails had almost disappeared and the bottom was gone. I figured Rubáiyát’s days at the port were definitely numbered. A few weeks before I was leaving town, I noticed that someone took the mast. Then a few days later the rudder disappeared. I thought that was it. Rubáiyát was in a prominent place in the port, and soon she and the memory of Chris would be gone forever.
On my last day in town, I passed by Rubáiyát to bid her farewell. As I stood there, rubbing my hand against her nameplate on the bow, in the distance, I saw something and I couldn’t believe my eyes. It was an exact replica of Rubáiyát! I rode my bike over to take a better look and lo and behold, it was a perfect copy. They had even installed her original mast and rudder on the new boat. I was blown away! Who was in charge of this amazing construction? It was too late in the evening to get any answers around the port, so when I got back to New Jersey, I emailed my Essaouira neighbor Jeanette to see if she could find out who built it. It turned out that the commission of the Port of Essaouira had paid for the replica and the work was done by a local master builder. Jeanette also told me that at the beginning of April, they hauled away the old Rubáiyát and replaced it with the new one. Chris Gilmore, a Margate boy, enshrined forever at the entrance to the ancient Port of Essaouira. God Bless!
Ronny Bauer and his wife Marla run TJ’s Ice Cream Parlor in Ocean City. This series of articles contain excerpts from Ronny’s book “Goat Rescue 911 – Adventures in Essaouira, Morocco with the Captain.”
