David Crosby is gone….. !
We had to take a moment… well we had to take more than that to internalize that David Crosby was gone.
As we thought about what to say, we wandered around on the internet reading clips about his tumultuous life and realizing that the man we were reading about was misrepresented. While it’s understandable that the press would focus on the conflicts with fellow band members, drug addiction, and the tumult of David’s life. That was not the David we knew. Along the waterfront wherever he sailed MAYAN, he left a trail of fellow sailors who cherished his quick pixie-like wit and generosity. We, sailors, knew a different man.
From the perspective of a fellow sailor, David did what the best of us do. He cherished his beautiful boat, pouring a mountain of treasure into maintaining and eventually completely rebuilding her. He sailed MAYAN from the Caribbean to California, to Tahiti and Hawaii, and endlessly cruised the Channel Islands off of Southern California. His beloved schooner was no “harbor queen”. In MAYAN’s wake, David left sailors who cherish having known him. It wasn’t because he was a famous rock star. It was because he was a fellow sailor.
For those of you who aren’t sailors, this has a specific meaning. Crossing oceans requires tremendous tolerance for others, an ability to do your bit in lousy conditions for days on end, and most importantly a self-deprecating sense of humor that allows a crew to work together in conditions most rational people choose not to endure. David had all of that. MAYAN’s wake is filled with hundreds of sailors who knew him to be a “great shipmate”. The highest honor a sailor can bestow.
There were times when the pressures and problems of his life as one of the most famous musical performers in the world invaded the sanctuary surrounding MAYAN. But, as he would tell it, after a day or two aboard the problems would fade and he would be restored. A long list of “Captains” cared for MAYAN loyally and effectively during the extensive months of touring with Crosby, Stills, and Nash, David’s time in prison, and while his drug addiction debilitated him. The loyalty of his crew is the best tribute and confirmation that he was truly a “great shipmate”.
Keeping MAYAN alive:
Every sailboat needs care, and wooden boats need more than most. Throughout his life, David would pour love, affection, and money into MAYAN. Most of this maintenance was modest, but occasionally she needed to have “a little work done”.
Eventually, the frames, planking, and deck of MAYAN were in desperate need of repair. David had done a number of partial repairs over the forty years he had sailed her, but by 1999 she was nearly beyond saving. Master shipwright, Wayne Ettel was asked to restore her and after a spirited sail, he agreed, saying: “This boat needs to be saved.”
In 2005 MAYAN was returned to David stronger and better than she had ever been. But financial pressures were building up on David and he reluctantly put her up for sale. At Wayne’s suggestion, we wrote a letter asking David if he would consider selling her to us; we included our sailing resume and assured him that we had the skill and treasure to keep her safe and well-maintained. Two days later the phone rang and David’s distinctive voice asked: “Hey, do you want to buy my boat.” Beau replied “Yes!” and David continued: “Come on down to Santa Barbara, you can look at her, we can eat some tacos, and talk about it.” The next day in Santa Barbara, after a tour of MAYAN and a long lunch of terrific tacos, we shook hands on the deal.
We made two promises to David that day. First, we would care for MAYAN and keep her in the wonderful condition in which we received her. Second, anytime we were taking MAYAN someplace, we’d invite him along. Over the years since, we’ve cared for and maintained MAYAN in numerous ways. Much of it is documented here on these pages. Like all wooden boats, she has needed repairs large and small.
Each time we’ve sailed anywhere, Beau has sent David an email like: “Hi, we’re going to sail MAYAN from Santa Cruz to Newport Beach. Want to come along?” Each time, there was an immediate response saying that he was too busy touring or recording (his musical career was taking off again), or that he was busy with his family.
Eventually, in a long and tearful conversation, David explained. “I miss her so much. You’ve done a great job of caring for her and I’d love to see her, but I just can’t bring myself to be aboard her again.” In the months before he died, David called us and offered to buy her back again for a very high price. We held a family meeting and decided we didn’t want to do that. David’s response was typical: “Well, that sucks! But, I understand.” then, “I’m not doing too well and I just wanted to owner her again.”
It was the last time we heard from David.
Sailors & Their Boats
Those of you who sail know that the bond between a sailor and their boat is difficult to describe. It is particularly unique when a boat is as special as MAYAN. There is a reason that sailors always refer to their boats as “She” and many a sailor’s wife has felt the boat received the most affection.
MAYAN has carved a place in our family’s heart. Our grandchildren draw pictures of her. She’s always at the top of the list when they are asked: “What do you want to do while you’re with us?” Her racing and cruising crew list numbers over 200 and their loyalty to MAYAN is strong. She has carried well over 400 friends and family out sailing since 2014 and now serves as the flagship of our yacht club. David was not alone in loving her.
If there is an afterlife for sailors, we hope it looks like this:
