This week I lived a dream I didn’t know I had—aboard a wooden sloop the same age as me, just two months older, sailing the Hudson River in rhythm with the wind, the water, and a crew of passionate, unstoppable young changemakers.
The Clearwater isn’t just a boat. She’s a teacher, a witness, a living archive. Built to honor Pete Seeger’s vision of a cleaner river and a more just world, she carries not only sails, but stories—of the Lenape people who named this river Muhheakantuck, “the river that flows both ways”; of decades of environmental justice; of music, education, and hope.
Each morning began with a muster circle, where we gathered as a crew, introduced ourselves, shared intentions for the day, and grounded ourselves in purpose. Standing in that circle, feet planted on deck, surrounded by brilliant young educators, activists, and sailors, I felt both humbled and held. This was community in motion.
I laughed as I ate things I rarely eat—peanut butter, pancakes, pasta, rice, bread, sugary snacks—because out here, every calorie is earned. Every bite carries the day’s wind.
I was surrounded by youth—bright-eyed, fierce-hearted, full of skill and grace. Most of them are half my age, but they taught me with humor and patience: how to tie a bowline, raise the jib, read a nautical chart, shout “Hold the peak!” before we tacked. Every rope (sorry—line) had a name and a purpose. I learned to say halyard, sheet, port, starboard. I learned to listen for the sails’ song/ Sea shanty.
And I hit my head. A lot. Every. Single. Day. On beams, on rigging, on the low corners of cabins. I lived on ibuprofen, laughed through the pain, and joked that my bruises were my sailor’s rite of passage.
The restroom? A bucket. High off the ground, requiring circus-like precision to reach. Afterward, we tossed in crushed sawdust—a lesson in simplicity, sustainability, and humility.
We sailed through brackish water, where salt from the sea meets fresh water from the mountains. A mix, not unlike the crew aboard—different origins, different stories, blending into something new and powerful. The brackish current carried us through tides that flow both ways, reminding me that life isn’t linear. It loops, it drifts, it returns.
I stood at the bow as we sailed under the bridges of the Hudson—structures I’d driven over a hundred times, now revealed from below like steel cathedrals. The wind kissed my face. The river shimmered with history. And for the first time in a long time, I felt both small and infinite.
Each day we welcomed K–12 students on board. We taught them to test water, to ask questions, to care. We reminded them that the river is alive. That they are part of it. That they, too, can be stewards.
And then there was the music.
After long days of hauling lines and teaching lessons, we would gather again—this time with banjos, guitars, and hand drums in hand. Some crew members were extraordinarily talented musicians, filling the evening air with melodies that drifted like wind through the rigging. Songs of resistance, of rivers, of joy. Sometimes upbeat, sometimes lullabies that rocked us gently into sleep. I fell asleep some nights with chords echoing in my mind—comforting, ancient, alive.
And all the while, Clearwater carried us—old wood, creaking gently, reminding me that age is not a limit but a story. She’s older than me by two months, and I joke with the crew that she’s the only one here who gets my backaches. But in truth, she’s younger than all of us in spirit. She sails with purpose.
So here’s to the Clearwater.
To the crew who live the mission.
To the youth who rise early, work hard, and teach with joy.
To the bridges and tides and sawdust buckets.
To bruises, blisters, and belly laughs.
To muster circles and lullabies.
To the wind that carries us forward, the brackish water that blends our worlds, and the stories that keep us anchored.
And once again, it is proven:
I am the luckiest person in the world—
To be alive in this body, at this time,
Held by water, wisdom, and wonder.
Graced by experience. Filled with gratitude.
Melda Yildiz’s passion for the environment began at the Waterfront Center at Oyster Bay. She has been an environmental educator since 2017, first as an instructor and later as a volunteer crew member aboard the Christeen historical sailboat. After moving to Dutchess County, she attended a Clearwater holiday party in Beacon where she learned about the Sloop’s demanding, week-long onboard volunteer program. Inspired to make a full commitment, she cleared her schedule and immediately signed up, and now uses her skills to amplify Clearwater’s stories and community engagement efforts.
For almost sixty years, Clearwater has nurtured a deep and abiding love for the Hudson River because of the generosity of donors like you. Help us keep the Clearwater magic alive and the sloop sailing for the next generation.
