Yearning for the open water
In late March 2018, I made my way to the watery edge of North Carolina for a few nights in Oriental and surrounds. On a blustery afternoon I visited a marina in Arapahoe. With a brand new Fuji XH-1 camera, I explored the nature of boats out of water.
In the slips there are shiny new boats waiting on their owners to return and slip them free. It’s a short journey down a man made creek to the edge of the Neuse River and then just a matter of miles to the open waters of the Pamlico Sound. But this is much more than a marina. It’s a working boatyard, home to four different repair businesses aimed at refurbishing boats in various states of need. We all know boats are needy.
This is Jeremy Kedjierski, a waterman, who repairs boats, and captains boats. He’s a combat veteran, and told me he’s happiest near and on the water.
So however you want to think about it – maintenance, repair, love. That’s what’s happening to many boats here. The first thing that struck me, was that to really repair a boat you have to remove it from it’s home. You have to get it out of the water, and up into the air. The boats become like once magnificent creatures stranded in time and space. Huge hulls propped up on massive wooden blocks and held in place with heavy iron tripods. There’s a humble nakedness and vulnerability to it all.
Beyond the structure, there’s the textures to be reckoned with. These are patterned patinas that can’t be simply described as color. These are subtle shades stirred by river and sea, seasoned with brackish and salt water and encrusted with barnacles. To look at the weathered boats is to see the very current of life.
These boats want to sail again. They are yearning for the open water. Aren’t we all?
