Apodaca: A forgettable night on ship provides lasting memories

When I read about the Pilgrim of Newport’s recent visit to Newport Harbor, it brought me back to a memorable night spent aboard the 118-foot replica of an 18th-century merchant ship.

By “memorable,” I mean it was part misery, part marvel.

In case any readers missed it, the Daily Pilot reported on the Pilgrim’s sail to the Newport Sea Base, where it was open for a day to visitors. Although it was renamed the Spirit many years ago, when it was acquired by the Ocean Institute of Dana Point, the ship was originally christened the Pilgrim by its builder, the late Dennis Holland of Newport Beach.

For the past 13 years, the institute has used the ship for activities, including the hosting of schoolchildren on field trips designed to bring history to life.

It was one such program that gave me an experience I’ll never forget.

It was about a decade ago. My younger son was in fourth grade, the year when students throughout California learn about state history. To reinforce those studies, his Lincoln Elementary class planned to spend the night on the Spirit, with each student assigned to the role of a crew member on a hide-trading voyage from Boston to California.

The intent was to make the “journey” an immersive experience, as realistic as possible so that the kids would understand the hardships early explorers, traders and settlers underwent as they traveled by sea to a new world.

“We try to bring to them that there’s more to history than what they read in a book,” said Howard Schutter, the Ocean Institute’s maritime director. “These were not easy times to make a living in.”

Like characters from Richard Henry Dana’s “Two Years Before the Mast,” the students signed on as “greenhands,” novice sailors from impoverished families who were expected to labor without complaint hoisting cargo, rowing long boats, raising sails, swabbing decks and standing night watch.

When I first heard about it, I thought it sounded like a terrific learning opportunity.

What I didn’t know was that my son had volunteered me as a chaperone. Although I wasn’t the best choice for a night of roughing it on a creaky old ship — I could easily be voted the least-fun person on a camping trip — I figured if my son wanted me there, I’d tough it out.

As we arrived at the dock around mid-afternoon it started to rain, but we remained hopeful that the storm would quickly pass.

No such luck.

I realize it’s hard to appreciate what it must have been like, since anyone who has lived in California during the past decade probably has only a dim memory of what water falling from the sky looks like. But try picturing a wind-whipped, monsoon-like downpour, 12 straight hours of pounding, unrelenting sheets of moisture unleashed from an unforgiving weather system that appeared to stall directly over Dana Point Harbor.

As charming as the idea of spending time in a historical setting might seem, an old boat filled with a bunch of fourth-grade kids is not where you want to be in the middle of a typhoon — even if the vessel never actually leaves the dock.

Soaked down to my skivvies, I reached my first low point when a tarp under which I sought a modicum of shelter grew so heavy with rainwater that it overturned, dumping its contents directly onto my head. Another came while I was standing in a long line to use the head during one of the brief, infrequent breaks allowed for such necessities. The overwhelmed facilities backed up and overflowed, bringing the two kids in front of me to tears, and me not far behind.

Yet the remarkable thing was that everyone carried on despite the challenging conditions. The kids gamely fulfilled their duties, pausing only for a dinner of watery stew — cooked by some of their fellow students — and to gather for stories and songs before squeezing into their two-to-a-bunk sleeping quarters.

Assigned to oversee the galley crew, I spent a sleepless few hours huddled in a tiny bunk before arising at 4 a.m. to watch the kids make a large vat of rather unappealing-looking oatmeal. Finally the storm passed, and everyone looked happy and no worse for wear.

“No one went home. They stuck it out,” recalled Kathryn Hewko, my son’s wonderful fourth-grade teacher. “It was such an amazing class.”

Those overnight trips are a thing of the past for Lincoln fourth-graders, who now attend a day trip during which students emulate prospectors heading for California’s Gold Country.

My son said he remembers quite well his Spirit adventure as “a great time, an interactive, authentic experience.”

As head of the rigging crew, he recalled, he led a mock funeral for one of his mates who fell while pretending to climb a mast. Later, when he had to wake others for the 2 a.m. watch, one kid was so deeply asleep he couldn’t rouse her.

Even the brutal weather and foul toilet facilities weren’t a big deal, at least in hindsight, he said.

“It made it grittier, a little more authentic.”

And when we stopped for coffee and hot chocolate on the way home, it made us very appreciative of the modern comforts we too easily take for granted.

PATRICE APODACA is a former Newport-Mesa public school parent and former Los Angeles Times staff writer. She lives in Newport Beach.