Wednesday, November 2, 2011

The Perfect Storm

by Deb Baker/Hannah Reed

Last week I was on the east coast, visiting a few places I'd never been before. Rockport. Kennebunkport. Eating lobster every day, rising with the sun to watch the fishermen going out to sea.

Next up was Gloucester, home of the men who died during the perfect storm. Actually labelled that by the National Weather Service. But it was also called the Halloween Storm because it arrived at the end of October. 65 knot winds, 39 foot waves.

I have to stand in awe of the commercial fishermen who deal with one of Mother Nature's most volatile landscapes - the ocean. At Gloucester harbor, I took these pictures - the Fisherman's Memorial and the names of those lost on the Andrea Gail.

And the bar where they hung out.

The men who went out that faithful day weren't real to me until I walked along that harbor, until I stood on the docks watching fishermen going out, coming in, feeling the dampness of the air, the sound of the waves crashing, the vastness of the sea. But they're real to me now. I left with a lump in my throat. I think I'll watch the movie again. And read the book -
The Perfect Storm: A True Story of Men Against the Sea
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