ABERDEEN — Capt. Ryan Meyer bends over a cracked, black cross-piece aboard the Lady Washington at Aberdeen Landing. His hands are tar-stained as he pulls out a long, iron marlinespike and taps the wood.
The Lady recently returned from touring Puget Sound and the San Juans to its home port in Aberdeen for some routine maintenance. Replacing the cross-piece is one of several tasks the crew had to complete to make sure the ship was in pristine condition before its departure to San Francisco.
Meyer has held nearly every position on the Lady since volunteering as a crew member in 1998, and says it’s everyone’s responsibility to make repairs, even if the captain receives the star treatment.
“The captain always gets the glory,” Meyer said. “People see it as a status symbol, but you just can’t do it for that. It’s got to be because you genuinely love the boats.”
Meyer’s love for boats began in Lancaster, Calif., in the heart of the Mojave Desert. His parents owned several boats, and Meyer’s father was an accomplished sailor. Meyer recalls watching his father at the helm of his family’s boats at age 5.
He learned to sail by watching his dad. He began sailing smaller boats, one of the first being a Rhodes 19 sailboat. From there “they just got bigger and bigger,” Meyer said.
But the decision to go from leisurely sailing to becoming a professional sailor came one February weekend in 1998. Meyer was 18 and worked as a ride operator at an amusement park in Santa Dorado, Calif. The Lady and the Hawaiian Chieftain were in town giving dockside tours, so Meyer decided to check it out.
“You don’t see this every day,” he said.
He spent the entire day exploring the tall ships. He was so captivated, he spent the next day on board. By day’s end, he approached the captain and jokingly asked, “What do you have to do to crew on this thing?”
Meyer did an-on spot interview and filled out an application. The next day, Meyer’s father informed him ship officials called to say Meyer was selected to leave on a two-week tour as a volunteer crewman.
“I thought he was messing with me at first,” Meyer said. “I thought you had to have all these random connections, like good ol’ boy rich stuff. I figured you had to know the captain’s cousins, uncles and veterinarians. I figured they were bluffing.”
Coincidentally, the Lady had recently lost five of its 12 members to rotations.
“They must’ve just got done having a meeting when I applied,” Meyer said. “They needed people and said, ‘If anybody is interested, grab them.’”
The two-week tour eventually turned into two years.
Soon Meyer was promoted to bosun’s mate, education officer, gunner and bosun. While he was bosun, he also took on some engineer’s duties. By the end of two years, he took a three-month break to get his captain’s license.
He returned to the Lady as first mate. Within a couple months, the ship’s captain, Michael “Jake” Jacobson — who was a shipwright during the Lady’s maiden voyage — rotated out and Meyer took over.
Around the same time, Meyer met the other lady of his life, Ann Kirsch.
The couple met through a mutual friend. The two began dating, and Kirsch often sailed with Meyer on the Lady.
“Everyone knew we were going to get together except us,” Meyer said.
The couple celebrated their five-year wedding anniversary in August.
The Lady is on tour 360 days a year, and Meyer spends six months touring with The Lady before taking a six-month break.
But the Meyers are rarely apart. Ann works as the ship’s purser, and also volunteers.
Meyer’s confident in his skills on the ship, but it took a lot of learning.
He gives credit to Jacobson for teaching him how to dock the Lady. He’d seen Jacobson do it perhaps a half dozen times, and remembers the crew’s sarcastic reaction the first time he docked it in San Francisco.
“They said, ‘Don’t kill us, just dock the boat,”’ Meyer chuckled.
Jacobson was impressed with Meyers’ initiative.
“We kept looking for things for Ryan to do because we wanted him to stick around,” said Jacobson, who now works at the Grays Harbor Historical Seaport. “He was clearly a keeper.”
Today, Meyer follows Jacobson’s example and takes every opportunity to teach others.
Jeremiah Gempler, captain of the Hawaiian Chieftain, says Meyer taught him how to sail. Gempler worked under Meyer as an engineer before becoming a captain.
He said being familiar with Meyer comes in handy during “battle sails,” mock cannon fights between the ships.
“I know how he works,” Gempler said. “I know a lot of his secrets and it helps battle against him.”
Other Chieftain-ers regard Meyer as a mentor.
“He doesn’t set you down in a classroom-type environment,” said David “Rocky” Bonner, who got some navigation tips from Meyer. “He’ll lay it all out and explain it to you. He’s really hands-on.”
Most folks outside the maritime circle don’t know Meyer’s nickname, “Evil” Ryan.
The moniker was born the first summer he spent on the Lady. The ship already had a Ryan on board, whom Jacobson describes as “a quiet, Christian lad.”
Everyone swore the Ryans could be twins: They had the same height, build, color of eyes and long, dark hair.
To tell them apart, one of crew members, Mason Marsh, suggested the two play a game of dominoes. The loser would be the “Evil” Ryan and the winner would be the “Good” Ryan.
Meyer lost. So he sought revenge on Marsh by running his coffee cup up the flag pole.
“Good” Ryan is no longer on board, but Meyer’s sinister nickname stuck. Occasionally, Meyer still shows his “evil” side.
He keeps a stash of Nerf guns and remote control helicopters in the half-cabin. His crew often has Nerf battles after a long day’s work.
“If someone shoots you with a Nerf gun, it doesn’t take long to figure out. If it’s (the gun) only 10 bucks, I’ll buy one and shoot back at you,” Meyer said. “It’s just a way to shoot off a little steam.”
Meyer says the hardest lessons he’s learned during the decade he’s spent with the Lady are “the intangibles. How do you teach them (the crew) to get through a day? How do you keep the crew from killing each other?” Meyer said.
But responsibility doesn’t make the job less fun.
“At the end of the day, you’re tired, but it gives you this sense of accomplishment,” Meyer said. “It’s the captain’s privilege to get to come out and play.”
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