Logbook: My Ol‘ Buddy Bill

As Capt. Pike transitions to a new role with the magazine, we look back on adventures past.

It was a gray, drizzly and sleepy Saturday morning. Karen and I were sitting in a hole-in-the-wall breakfast spot in Middletown, Connecticut. I had just accepted a position as managing editor of Power & Motoryacht and was looking for an apartment somewhere between our office in Essex and where Karen lived outside Boston.

I’d just walked through a series of rough-and-ready apartments and was starting to second-guess my decision to move while pushing around some sad-looking scrambled eggs. I had lived in Newport, Rhode Island, for three years at this point and had just started to make friends; the City by the Sea was finally starting to feel like home. I didn’t know anyone in Connecticut at the time, and the prospect of starting over in a new state weighed heavily.

I was paying my bill when I spotted a familiar face walk through the door of the diner. With an easy smile beneath a trimmed beard, I nudged Karen and said, “That’s Bill Pike.” I’d seen Bill in passing at a couple boat shows and had read his writing for years, but he certainly didn’t know me. This little diner was half an hour away from our office, and Bill lived in Florida; he was the last person I expected to run into. I’m embarrassed to admit this, but I almost walked out the door without talking to him.

Like an awkward fan-boy, I mustered the courage to turn around and talk to Bill. I walked up to the counter where he was sitting, cleared my throat, outstretched my hand and introduced myself.

“Oh, you’re the new guy!” Bill beamed as he invited me to pull up a stool. Karen patiently waited outside as we chatted briefly about the job, my apartment search and the story he was working on in town. I’d only gotten a taste of how fanatic Bill is about a good breakfast. In all, we probably talked for five minutes, but with Bill, that’s all it takes for you to fall under his charm. “Well, it was good meeting you, man. I’m sure we’ll be talking,” he said as we shook hands and I left to find Karen.

“How’d it go?” she asked.

“Well, now I know someone,” I said with a smile, my mood lifted.

From that day on, Bill has been a cross between a mentor and boating therapist. Whether I was calling to discuss a story idea or freaking out about an overheating engine, his advice—always delivered in a calm drawl—always left me feeling more at ease.

Last year, when I was in the process of buying a boat, Bill and I talked a couple times a day. And we talked at least three times a day while I was gearing up for the survey on the Bertram. Funny enough, when my surveyor found out I worked for Power & Motoryacht, the first thing he asked was if Bill would be joining us on the sea trial. “Will it get me a discount?” I asked. When I officially bought the boat, Bill was the first person I called.

Bill and I have had some truly great adventures—and breakfasts—together over the years in different parts of the world. And the best part is that I’m expecting to enjoy even more waterborne adventures with Bill in the years to come. The only change will be something I hope that our valued readers won’t even notice: After 35 years working full-time for marine magazines, Bill has asked to shift courses slightly to become our editor-at-large, a role that will keep him on the water testing boats and penning his Uncharted Waters column, but frees him from the daily barrage of emails and minutiae.

Of course, we were happy to oblige after a handshake deal ensured that he would use his newfound free time to cruise with his family and that he would continue his duties as my boating therapist.

I want to say in print: Thank you Bill for making me and everyone on the team feel welcomed into this sometimes crazy, always fun crew at Power & Motoryacht. Get that Yanmar warmed up and let’s go cruising.