This has been the first week since I began writing this blog that I did not know what image I wanted to feature. Usually I have plenty of time to think about the subject on my morning walk. Having something to compose in my head helps to minimize the boredom and keep my mind off work. That meant this week I had two full hours each day before work to steam about the latest customer issues with which I have been dealing. Not particularly good for maintaining a healthy state of mind.
This morning I found myself scrolling through archived photos I have taken that might provide appropriate material for today. I almost skipped right over this folder of images as I thought that there was not much of value contained within. I came across this image which for years has laid abandoned. I always believed that the one I am featuring today had potential. However, it was taken relatively early in my photography obsession and technically, it was a mess. Fortunately, my Photoshop skills have developed nicely out of necessity and I can now compensate for poor technique.
I noticed this sailboat sitting in one of those fallow boatyards littered with vessels that will probably never once again feel the rush of water against their hulls. The air carried the same scent of aged motor oil you first notice when you walk into your local repair garage. Perfume to a frustrated mechanic like myself. This boat was immediately discernable from the others in this boneyard of watercraft. The others were made of fiberglass, now bleached in the intense South Carolina sun. This one was made of wood. Although it too has not stood the test of time, it had character. You could almost feel its pain. The rust from its iron fittings stained its sides like blood trailing from an open wound. Its paint was peeling like your skin after a particularly severe sun burn. I could almost hear its pleas for help.
Years ago, I remember turning to the internet to see if I could discover anything interesting about this boat. I was surprised to find that for the first time, I stumped the artificial intelligence built into the Google search engine. Zero returns. Hah! I finally broke you. Fuga City was finally the topic that exposed the great and powerful Google as a fraud. As I scrolled down the single page of related topics. I did find several hits for the word “fugacity”. My elation quickly turned into embarrassment. Just like the town of “Fuga City”, I had never heard of the word “fugacity”.
Apparently, the term fugacity is typically used in describing the thermodynamic properties of a gas. For an engineer that could barely muster a “C” in chemistry, no surprise that I could neither recognize the word nor understand the definition. However, there is a less used literary form of the word. Fugacity is also defined as the quality of quickly fading from existence, sight, or memory.
So now I have two options. I can believe that the owner of this boat was a either a chemist or a poet. Considering the emotional connection I had made with this boat, I am selecting the latter. What a more fitting and romantic name. I have always been amazed that we could arrive at a destination across an ocean, on a vessel built by hand out of trees, powered by the capricious wind, and guided by the stars. A relic of days long past.
Seeing a wooden boat outside of their preserved state in museum now makes it an anachronism. Yet, the mere sight of seeing one, even decaying in a yard removed from its natural element, can temporarily transport us to locations far away from the cruel realities of the day. All I need now is a pina colada and plan my escape.
