Thoughts on a buoy
Almost a year ago, the National Oceanographic and Atmospheric Administration stopped publishing paper nautical charts. A few months later, it floated a proposal to remove hundreds of navigational buoys from the coastal waters of the United States. The waves of efficiency questioned if steel buoys, and paper charts, were going the way of driving gloves. Though "glove compartments" still exist in our cars, the words don't reflect our new reality.
As a captain I confess to loving the convenience of electronic charts with computerized GPS positioning and radar overlay functions. In a glance I can see exactly where I am, where I'm heading, and who and what is around. The technology is a great comfort, and I'd be crazy not to use it, especially in these literal dark times of winter in Maine.
And yet, there's something I'm forced to confront every time I turn it on: WARNING: DO NOT USE AS YOUR PRIMARY MEANS OF NAVIGATION.
The words insist that the program will not be responsible my navigational decisions. Fair enough. It has always been a captain's job to know where I am and where I think I'm going regardless of the tools or sources of information I choose to trust. The warnings are also a sobering reminder of how much can go wrong whenever we go out into the world. How do we know what is real and true, or that what is shown on the charts (whether paper or screen)we navigate by show an accurate picture of reality? An unknown ledge might still be found. A trusted buoy might drift out of place or sink.
Impatient, I scroll to the fake button at the bottom of the screen. I say fake for if I am wearing gloves or my finger is too cold to register the sensors, the computer won't acknowledge I am real. So I breath on my finger and touch the lighted blue rectangle again to consent to the terms of the deal. ACCEPT. It makes me laugh every time.
Then I wait for the computer to load its electric rendering of reality. Lighthouses, breakwaters, ledges and buoys all have their symbols and places.
Buoys generally guide against perils to avoid. But some do the opposite. Such "safe water" or "mid channel" buoys show up on the chart as MoA, short for Morse Code, letter A. The "A" refers to the white light sequence they flash in the dark: one short followed by one long dash. Mariners know they can pass safely on either side as centers of invisible separation zones for vessels going in all sorts of directions. In some ways, all MoA buoys do is remind:"I AM HERE. I'm not going anywhere."
A few weeks ago, one of my favorite buoys began to sink. The MoA buoy known as PB (short for Penobscot Bay) looked fine on the chart, but in the real world it was going down. Seeing it founder was like watching an old friend I relied on fall into trouble, and it made me wonder: Do I still need it? Am I the only one who thinks, or feels, that the answer is yes?
A confirmation came over the VHF radio. A captain from a boat called Equinox, called the Coast Guard on Channel 16, the common hailing and distress channel we all monitor when underway.
A long silence prompted him to try a couple more times. When no one answered, I squeezed the button on my mic. "John, it's Jeff on Salt and Light. Are you ok?"
"Yes. Thanks for checking. I was just trying to report that the PB is sinking."
Equinox showed on my radar screen, a mile behind me, just passing our old friend.
The captain of a Maine State ferry, heading the other way spoke next. "Oh yeah. I reported the problem with the PB buoy last week. They know about it. Said they're going to fix it soon."
A few days later, the Coast Guard replaced the buoy, the same day as the end of a government shut down, when “non-essential” services and programs got back underway.
The physical presence of symbol, floating at a known position in safe water, with a distinctive light visible from any direction, may technically be an unnecessary and atavistic relic in "these dark times". But on the shortest days at the edge of winter in the real world where so much is broken, and much cannot be trusted, I'm grateful for reminders of simple Truth. And hearing on the airwaves that I was not alone in valuing a buoy that still says HERE I AM and I'M NOT GOING ANYWHERE was even more comforting that knowing where I was.
