Aylwin: A Past Present by Peter B. Brittin
For several years, I could not figure out, could not sift through the varied pieces and reach a comfortable meaning that settled and held true. On its face, it was a simple coincidence that made me pause to reflect. As years passed, however, the realization grew that this nagging coincidence was anything but simple. Instead, it slowly became clear to me that what had happened touched upon some bedrock that defines who I am, where I come from, and where I stand.
Then I saw her sheer line and felt her grace. Standing there in the cold of February, I quickly came to the conclusion that I would try to own this boat one day. After I bought her, I sailed my 32’ sloop for a couple of years without a name. In my book, naming a boat is important stuff ~ a decision not to be lightly made. The name just had to be right. When it hit me, I knew
It began one bleak and very cold day in February. I was alone in a boatyard just north of Burlington, Vermont, wandering around, f linching at the raw weather off Lake Champlain. It was a tough period in my life; I was just coming out the other end of a painful divorce. I wanted and needed solitude for just an afternoon. Having spent many happy summers working at sea while in prep school and college, boats felt good to be around, even in February. Wandering in thought and in space, I trudged through the snow drifts and ducked under the occasional bow or stern, barely distinguishing one boat from another.
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