A Place to Call Home
Boat names are one thing. A hailing port? That’s another item to contemplate entirely.
Most boats display both a name and a place, commonly referred to as a hailing port. Regulations on placement and size of the lettering vary depending on if you’re titled and registered in a state or documented (federally titled) by the Coast Guard. Over the years, we’ve had a number of different ports on the transom.
When we first bought the boat, she was registered in the state of Texas, where we lived at the time. We kept state registration and a Houston, Texas, hailing port for the first five years of ownership, exploring the Eastern Caribbean down to Venezuela and Bonaire and back up to the US where we settled in Virginia.
Name painting by the inimitable SJ Stout
I’m not exactly sure why we chose Houston (instead of Kemah) as the hailing port. But I do remember when we painted the boat in Trinidad the hardest part was having to remove the beautiful artwork that Stewart Stout had freehand painted on the transom in one Texas-hot afternoon. We’ve never had anything other than vinyl graphics since then, and I miss the artistry.
We couldn’t wait to leave Texas behind. (Apologies to Texas lovers!) Everything is indeed bigger in Texas, including the car-dealer sized state flags that so many Texans in the Bahamas seemed to love to fly. Take a look at the above photo: requirements are that the name and hailing port be 3 inches high. Texas-size, anyone?
When we arrived in Virginia and hauled out for much-needed boat work, it took all of about 3 seconds to decide to title the boat in our new state; Deltaville made sense as the hailing port too, since we’d joined Fishing Bay Yacht Club and had a slip there.
Vinyl lettering is okay - but not the same at all. Sigh.
All this time, we’d been state titled and registered. When Jeremy became a US citizen, though, filing paperwork to document Calypso was the first thing we did after he got his passport. Though we had not had any troubles sailing under “just” a state flag, it’s not as official as a federal title. And initially, we just put Deltaville as the hailing port. After all, we were Virginia residents and Deltaville was where the boat lived. Plus we already had those graphics on the transom . . .
Lately, though, I’ve been itching to move on from Virginia. We’re Vermont residents now, with green tags on the van and drivers licenses to prove it. I started to view that “Deltaville” as an eyesore. It’s not like we don’t appreciate all Deltaville has to offer - this town has served us very well for lots of years, first as a weekend destination and then more recently as a home base. But we’re not going to be here for much longer. What if our hailing port was a visual reminder of where home really is?
I remember when we were cruising with the kids and came across a boat in Elizabeth Harbour, in George Town, Exuma in the Bahamas. It wasn’t the name of the boat (which I’ve forgotten) or anything else about her. It was the hailing port. Dorset, Vermont. Seriously? Dorset? Landlocked Dorset, where my parents met each other as young kids over the field club tennis court. Landlocked Dorset, where Jeremy and I were married one snowy December afternoon almost 29 years ago. Landlocked Dorset, where both my grandmothers lived as well as my great-grandmother, where there are memories for me at every corner.
Bet your butt I stopped to say hello as soon as I could. Turns out, the family were members at my mom’s church in Dorset, the same church where my brother and sister-in-law were married over 20 years ago. It’s a small world indeed.
As a US Coast Guard documented vessel, we’re required to display both a name and hailing port on the boat, in 4” high letters. As per the National Vessel Documentation Center, the hailing port needs to include a city and a state or territory of the US, and the state can be abbreviated. Contrary to some lore out there, it doesn’t need to be a water port, nor does it need to be the closest port to where you routinely keep the boat. It just needs to be a place and state or territory in the US.
When Sue died, our mentality about a land base shifted. We hadn’t wanted a house once we sold the one in Charlottesville (done last August) but now we have one, and we are keeping it thank you very much. We’re registered to vote up there. That’s where our permanent address is. It’s where our kids have stuff stashed in boxes for later on, where we’ve housed family treasures in the attic and elsewhere (sorry, Zach and Amy!). When we “come home” for a visit, there is no question as to where we’ll go.
Is it really any surprise that we’ve shifted our hailing port to one that reflects, on the transom, both aspects of home? The boat, yes. And the place.
Home is where the heart is.