Mystic Seafarer's Trail: Wanted: Epic Adventure

First chapter of my travel memoir, Mystic Seafarer's Trail:

1 Wanted: Epic Adventure

Shortly after stepping out of my new home with my hound for our first stroll through the historic seacoast village of Mystic, Connecticut, a woman pulled over in her van and yelled, "Excuse me."

Assuming she was a tourist wanting directions to Mystic Pizza or some other attraction, I wasn't prepared for what she really wanted to know: "Do you realize the back of your skirt is tucked into your underwear?"

What a debut in my new hometown—I don’t think this is what National Geographic meant when they named Mystic one of the top 100 adventure towns in the United States.

Once recovered from my wardrobe “malfunction,” I continued toward downtown Mystic with Bailey, a beagle/basset hound mix, to embark on a new life and shake off my old, sedentary landlubbing ways.

No longer did I want to be known as the lady who always talks about losing weight but never does it. No longer would I sit around daydreaming about becoming thin and famous so I could hire someone else to clean my house. I had a real shot at it now that I lived in a place where I couldn’t help but fall into a swash-buckling adventure—the kind that might inspire me to write a bestseller.

Straddling both sides of the Mystic River in the towns of Groton and Stonington, the village of Mystic takes its name from an Indian word, “river running to the sea.” Others call the Mystic River an arm of the sea for it’s not technically a river, but a long, narrow bay. With its scenic views of tall ships, islands, lighthouses and secluded coves, it has attracted such legendary honeymooners as Humphrey Bogart and Lauren Bacall. It is a place where those who cross the oceans gather to swap stories and repair their boats. It is where famous explorers are born, visit, get married, or embark from on their way to becoming lost at sea.

To launch my new career as an adventuress, I decided to walk Bailey to the haunts and homes of such celebrated voyagers as Amelia Earhart, the first woman to fly solo across the Atlantic, and Dr. Robert Ballard, the discoverer of Titanic’s watery grave.

Now was the time for me to join their ranks, to start living life on the edge. Maybe I could even become thin and famous like Amelia Earhart. Like her, I am fairly tall, my middle initial is M, I have a gap between my two front teeth, and until I looked it up, I couldn’t spell medieval either (more on that and her nearby secret wedding later). Unlike Amelia, I wasn’t thin, but that was about to change. I would stop lying around reading about adventurers and do what it took to become one.

My husband, Jim, and I were transferred to the Mystic area from New York by his company, which meant I had to quit my job as a full-time writer for a college in campus communications. Searching for a new job in a community revolving around life at sea was not easy for a confirmed desk sitter like me. Finding the area already teeming with underemployed writers and publicists, I was glad when my former employer hired me back as a consulting writer. Although freelancing allowed me to work from home in my pajamas, it offered no retirement benefits. Being famous would help pay the bills.

Perhaps I could follow the path of prominent authors such as Herman Melville who went to sea on a whaler (a ship designed to catch whales and process their oil) when he couldn't find a job. Although he deserted and had to live among cannibals for a time, he found the inspiration to write his first novel. Further sea adventures, which included mutiny and learning about a whale that rammed and sank the Essex, led to the creation of his magnum opus: Moby Dick. I, myself, could barely get through this “Great American Novel,” but someone must like it. Now that I lived within walking distance of the last wooden whaleship in the world, the Charles W. Morgan, I wondered if that was a sign. Perhaps I could enlist as a deck swabber on its next epic voyage. The house we purchased was adorned with a brass, whale-shaped door knocker. Now that had to be a sign.

If following in the footsteps of a whaling writer didn’t work, there was always the chance I could get famous by finding a dead body—just like Bailey and our older daughter had. Although it didn’t make her into an international celebrity, I use it as a party stopper whenever I want to be the center of attention. Of course, I should really find my own body, preferably of a well-known person. Celebrities were always coming to Mystic to vacation or film movies.

Since I couldn’t count on finding a dead body, famous or otherwise, and wasn’t sure yet how to embark on an epic voyage, I decided to start small by becoming known in my new community. To begin, I would write a story and title it, “The 7 Wonders of Mystic.” I finally became known as a freelance writer in my former community when I wrote the feature article, “The 7 Wonders of Rockland County,” for Rockland Magazine. It didn’t make me popular with the residents, however. Many were outraged when I didn’t write about their favorite site, so the magazine held a vote for the 8^th Wonder—which, of course, created more excited readers. As they say (whoever “they” are), “There is no such thing as bad publicity.”

Another benefit to writing “The 7 Wonders of Mystic” would be the handy list of suggested sites to shout to visitors who held up traffic asking what they should see (besides my underwear).

I also decided to design a “Mystic Seafarer’s Trail.” When Jim and I visited Boston, we loved walking its “Freedom Trail” because it gave us a clear self-guided path to follow with tidbits of information along the way. Mystic, full of maritime wonders with fun facts, certainly deserved to have its own trail.

National Geographic suggests that Mystic visitors bike what it calls the 25-mile Vineyard Loop, which includes “some hairy climbs that stops at two of the best wineries.” Hairy climbs? Although I hoped to get thin, I didn’t want to have to hike or bike uphill to do it. No, I would design the Mystic Seafarer’s Trail to avoid hills where possible. It would include “The 7 Wonders” (once I figured out what they were), plus the stomping grounds of legendary explorers, heroes, traitors and shipwreck survivors—as well as those who went down with the ship.

With so many potential wonders to consider and adventures to try, I had a lot of ground—and water—to cover. So, every afternoon, I checked my skirt and off Bailey and I went to follow a scent of our own...

Click on the "LOOK INSIDE" feature of the Mystic Seafarer's Trail to read chapter two.