Each day we climb aboard the ferry and don’t give it a second thought. We don’t stop and worry about whether we’ll ever get to our destination. It’s called trust. In Greek mythology the figure Charon was entrusted to ferry souls across the river Styx. Once his cargo reached the far shore they would learn their fates. Most of us, on the other hand (thank goodness), are just trying to get to work. But who are these trusted beings ferrying us anyway?
By Christine Cordi
Published: October, 2000
Each day we climb aboard the ferry and don’t give it a second thought. We don’t stop and worry about whether we’ll ever get to our destination. It’s called trust. In Greek mythology the figure Charon was entrusted to ferry souls across the river Styx. Once his cargo reached the far shore they would learn their fates. Most of us, on the other hand (thank goodness), are just trying to get to work. But who are these trusted beings ferrying us anyway?
They are united in their love for the outdoors, the water, the chance to watch the sun paint a glimmer on the passing waves, the moon flirt with the curves of the East Bay hills and the sun sink in a shower of pink oblivion. They are students of celestial navigation, marine biology, time warps in the Bermuda triangle and philosophy. They come from the directions of the four winds but have settled here. Whether seduced by the sea at an early age on sailboats, clam boats, and patrol boats, or later in life on iron ore boats, tugs, and ferries, they are resolute and palpably different. They have turned their backs forever on the corporate world of walls and cubicles that keep the rest of us enclosed.
Let me introduce some of them:
Captain Jack C. Goldthorpe spent thirty years in the Coast Guard, lastly as a Captain there. It was a long and fulfilling journey from his start at the New London, Connecticut academy to a flourishing finish for the Coast Guard in Alameda. Captain Goldthorpe is not a stranger to the almost "perfect" storms of the Pacific and has experienced its seas of 50 feet with winds of 100 knots. He says his tales of tackling drug dealing motherships, and fires aboard vessels 100 miles offshore are all true. Ferries now suit his style (We are happy for that - I understand ferry passengers are quite charming). We are waiting to see his 4 foot pet iguana which he claims is most affectionate, housebroken, and very important for the p.c. among you – a vegetarian.
Dave Stuhlberg has been a Captain since 1985. He has plied the seas from Cape Cod to Spain, to Newfoundland, Puerto Rico, and the Caribbean, mainly on sailing ships, including square rigs. It was not always smooth sailing for Captain Stuhlberg. He fought for his life off Cape Fear as he was swept off deck and managed to grab hold to a rail on the port side of the vessel. Then one day a woman from the Bay Area came into his life and the next thing he knew he had dropped his anchor here and had two boys. Captain Stuhlberg prefers the simpler and fulfilling ways of the sea and admits to being a bit leery of what happens on four wheels. In his spare time, (and when he is not piloting the ferry), he performs juggling and magic tricks.
Captain Chuck Hodge has been sailing for twenty years. Up and down San Francisco Bay, to Sacramento, and Stockton, he has seen his share of passenger boats, as well as worked on oil recovery vessels. While he is navigating his mind may return to the mysteries of Eastern philosophy, or delight in viewing whales and dolphins. But he is very vigilant nonetheless, particularly during low visibility days when he pays close attention to the marine traffic center reports, and the two radar screens picking up not just radar reflecting buoys, but any craft in between.
Sandy Sianas, is a hardworking deckhand on the early bird Richmond Ferry run. Brought up in Southern California near the beach, she states that she has found her bidding here on the water. (That is when she is not an extra on a forthcoming Nash Bridges episode).
Tyree Willis, deckhand, swears that he has learned great respect for the sea in the eleven years he has worked aboard ferries and other vessels. He had a close call with serious injury as lines snapped during a storm, and he courageously faced 110 snapping dogs as he performed his duties on what was converted to a Weimaraner ferry one day.
Thank you, captains and crew for getting us there safely and for your insights, courtesies and humanity. We may feel sorry for you when a harsh wind bites, the rain lashes down, and the seas swell, but none of you
would give up your jobs on the sea. You have answered freedom’s call.
