Part of the reason I was successful in the 1980s as a Caribbean marine journalist was because I always attempted to get the story from the horse’s mouth. Sources are critical. The person who was actually ‘in the room’ as the news was being made has to speak with you—on-or-off the record—or you don’t have a story (you only have some unconfirmed guesses).
This involves both trust and faith—two things in short supply in today’s world. The work-a-day reality is that doing the spadework of journalism is difficult, especially before a cub reporter has a reliable network of industry insiders who trusts and values them.
In the ‘80s and ‘90s, Judy Knape was one of my most reliable, best informed marine industry sources—as well as a close personal friend, fellow sailor, liveaboard, Caribbean cruiser, and drinking buddy. Why? Besides being knowledgeable and fun, she had a foot in two camps—one, with the power people of the VI marine industry, and, two, amongst the wayward sea gypsies, sailors, vegan windsurfers, rummies, drunken watercolorists, herbally-scented reprobates, racing freaks, and boat bums of the marine community.
Part of the key to Judy is that she’s a Midwesterner from Michigan—nothing fancy, just a steak-and-potatoes girl who can smell BS a mile away.
Let’s peer down a watery memory lane. I remember Judy at the helms of a Morgan 41 named Thoroughbred, and Poseidon, and Tony and Jackie Snell’s trimaran. Those were wild days at the Last Resort when that stubborn donkey adamantly refused to give up its place at the bar.
And best of all, Judy never missed a free drink, a free meal, or a free t-shirt. Yes, like any good sailor, she could smell a hard-boiled egg. Once, while hanging around Jost, Foxy told her, “If you’re here any more often, we’re gonna start charging you rent on the bar stool!”
Let’s start at the beginning: In 1977 Judy was a young lawyer working for a large firm in Philadelphia—and bored out of her skull. The town wasn’t big enough for her dreams—hell, the whole eastern seaboard wasn’t.
She was a wild child, with much to be wild about.
One night in a seedy sailor’s bar (is there any other?) she met a guy who was building a boat. He was going to go down-island, “to tune into Mother Ocean and drop-out of corporate America.”
She didn’t like the guy too much but she loved the idea of unlimited freedom upon the high seas—and soon tossed her underwear (she’s still quite focused having clean, freshly-laundered pairs of sturdy underwear) into a paper bag and fled to St. Thomas.
As a young, personable, energetic young gal who was smart as a whip (and possessed a law degree), Judy was in high demand. And not only did she slither through the swamp of wonderful waterfront wackos and Crazy Caribbean Characters themselves—but she also cozied up to VIMI, the VI Marine Industry Association.
This soon led her to the VICL, the Virgin Island Charter Yacht League, which she ended up running for many years while working with such folks as Jeannie Drinkwine. Also on her list of friends were Kathy Mullen, Terry Galvin of the VI Daily News, Alan Balfour, Joni Stout of Dragon, Ron Sherman, Gwen of Tactless II, Rik and Corrine Van Rensselaer—and such diverse folks as sailmaker Manfred Dittrick on Hassel Island, John Ripkey of Power Products, George Bell of CYC, Peiter and Pat Stoeken of Independence, Pirate Michael Bean, Tom Gerker of (then) Coral Bay Marine and (now) Parts & Power, Sharon of Winifred, Ron and Carole King of Zulu Warrior, Mike and Jeannie Kuich of Stargazer, and, of course, The Fiddler.
One of the things that appealed to me most about Judy Knape was that, from Puerto Rico to Grenada, whenever I’d attend a marine event, high or low—there she’d be. Not as an industry expert or representative of the chartering league, but as a boater out for a good time with her sailing friends.
She wasn’t in it for the money—she was in it for the grins. I never once saw a dollar sign in Judy’s eye. And she knew everyone up-and-down island. And had their respect.
These were exciting times in the VI—not only the explosive growth of the charter industry, but the rewriting of the mooring law, in awkward implementation of Zero Tolerance, then the rise of SEA GRANT, drug testing, the explosion of dive shops, Hurricane Hugo and the destruction/reincarnation of Yacht Haven, and the birth of the Governor’s Cup Youth Regatta. Dick Avery and the schooner Victoria, Avery’s boathouse, and ultimately Cranberry Gull. Mighty Whitey. The Holmberg Brothers. Everything was in a stage-of-change: Homeport, for example, morphing into Flagship. Or was it the other way around? I dunno, I was too drunk up at the Bilge to tell.
The launching of the KATS program. The departure of the St. Thomas USCG base (in part because one of its patrol vessels ended up in the middle of Veteran’s Drive—so much for the ole ‘outrunning the storm’ trick.
Was that Charlie and Ginny sailing by on their way to start the Moorings?
The rise of the fish wrappers such as Caribbean Boating. The Marine Scene. The Nautical Scene. The St. Thomas Courier. The Island Trader. ALL AT SEA. Caribbean Compass.
Somehow or another, Judy ended up in the Marshal Islands for a year or two—something about a delicate election case, if my memory serves.
But it was the VI where Judy’s destiny lay.
Of course, like most sailor gals, Judy was looking for her knight in shining armor. And, as lovely as the Lesser Antilles is, it gets a tad small after a while.
Enter Brian Lane.
He, too, wanted to escape the rat race—and thus sold his company at its zenith. He purchased Ursa Minor, a Bob Perry-designed Saga 48, with an eye to chase women in the Caribbean—and soon came across Judy. Sparks flew.
While Judy ran the VICL part-time, they chartered in the BVI, as well.
Brian changed Ursa Minor headsail arrangement to make her more suitable for offshore work. He even, with Bob Perry’s blessing, added a 1,200-pound lead shoe to its keel for added stiffness.
Brian wanted to escape into the Pacific but Judy was reluctant. She was used to sailing in the Caribbean—and she wasn’t sure she was ready for blue water.
Then, storm bound in Carriacou during Hurricane Charlie, they met up with my wife Carolyn and I aboard Wild Card, our modest 38-foot, $3,000 Hughes. We were between circs, touching base with our Caribbean pals.
Judy asked Carolyn if we were really going to circumnavigate again, and Carolyn said heartfully, “Yes! And I can’t wait. We’ve never done anything as fun!”
This throw-away comment on Carolyn’s part had a big effect on Judy—and she soon came to Brian and said, “Let’s do it!”
For the next decade they took in their chartering flag—and sailed the Pacific as sea gypsies—headquartering out of the Marshals and Fiji. (Brian reckons he put about 40,000 ocean miles on Ursa Minor in 17 years of ownership.)
Of course, over the decades we had them over to dinner aboard Carlotta, Wild Card, and Ganesh many times.
Take Gwen Hamling of Tactless II—Judy and Brian always make a point of mooching off Gwen when traveling inland, not the least because Gwen lives on a street in North Carolina with four—count ‘em, four!—retired Caribbean charter crews.
And, for the last 40 years of cruising, Judy has been front and center in many ways to our cruising. No matter where we sail, somebody asks us about Judy Knape.
We pulled into Opua, New Zealand and Ted Carr (formerly of Gold Coast Marine STX) shouted out, “Where’s Judy?”
Ditto, if you pulled into the Marshalls, Wood Chuck (who helped build the first ‘local boat’ on Jost with the help of the JVD Preservation Society) would immediately ask which port Judy and Brian had gotten to now.
Of course, last week when they buzzed into Singapore, they took the yacht club launch out, sat in our cockpit, pounded on the table, and asked, “What’s for dinner, Fatty?”
Damn! Can you be 80 years old and still shamelessly shaking down yachties in all the major ports of our planet?
Evidently, you can—if you’re as likable as Judy.
We not only showed them our anchorage and the Changi Sailing Club, we gave them numerous tours of Singapore. At the end, to disguise our sadness at parting, we drowned our sorrows in some Beef Wellington at Marina Bay Sands. (Ah, yes, I think there were a few gallons of wine involved too.)
It was great to catch up—I can’t believe how many of our mutual friends are out-of-jail! And on a more serious note: How wonderful it was to meet up with VI chartering pioneers in S’pore.
(Fatty and Carolyn still in South Asia, wondering if their anchor windlass still works.)
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