‘When you are traveling on a yacht, you work 24 hours a day. But it is not a boring profession.’

Linda Hunter was a Michigan college dropout working as a secretary in Hawaii during the mid-’60s when a dream to sail around the world led to a career as one of San Diego’s first female boat captains. She arrived in San Diego via San Francisco--restoring and selling boats while learning to sail--and was living on a boat in San Diego Bay when she began crewing on boats in the Caribbean and the Gulf of Mexico. When her sea skills outstripped those of her bosses, she got a license to skipper a boat. It was a ticket into a profession that was slow to accept women. Hunter was the first female deckhand for Exploration Cruise Lines, drove hydrofoils at Sea World and a 47-foot vessel at the San Diego Hilton--and skippered a private yacht to win acceptance in the marine community. Now 38 and ready for a new challenge, she is studying natural history, volunteering time tagging whales and seals , and working to become a captain on vessels that support the marine environment on natural history cruises. Times staff writer Nancy Reed interviewed her at a Shelter Island boat yard. Staff photographer Dave Gatley photographed her.

One gorgeous afternoon, I was out washing the windows on the boat I was running, and a man came down the dock and said, “You just have the most wonderful job in the world.” I turned to him, and I looked at him, and all I could do was start laughing.

Because I had spent the entire morning down inside a dark, damp, stinky hole, taking apart a head pump with unspeakable things under my fingernails and breaking tools and scraping up my shins, and having to wear a gas mask to do my job. I really didn’t feel like bursting his bubble.

You do get to work outside. And you get to travel--although that is a two-edged sword--when you are traveling on a yacht, you work 24 hours a day. But it is not a boring profession.

It all started out when my grandfather got a little cabin cruiser we would go out on Lake Michigan in when I was 10. Of all the grandkids, I was the only one who didn’t get seasick, so he made me first mate. He would let me tie up the lines, and he let me steer the boat, let me help wash it down--I thought it was great.

I was going to go to pre-veterinary medicine school--I wanted to raise horses. Then I flunked chemistry in college, so I ran away to Hawaii.

I was a baby sitter for some people who lived on a trimaran and were cruising around the world, and I realized that was what I wanted to do.

I feel that I learned that human beings can do anything in the world they want to do. At age 30, I decided I wanted to be a boat captain, and at age 35 I had irrevocably proved to myself that I could do it.

I was 22 when I got my first boat. I never took lessons, but one should. I bought a little 20-foot lady made out of wood and I took it out and made all the mistakes. I broke her and fixed her up and sold her for about twice what I paid for her.

I bought and fixed eight sailboats before I stopped. I bought a 30-foot sloop for $8,000, lived on it, and fixed it up and sold it for $12,000. I was planning on moving up to the proper boat and sailing around the world. But having enough money to do that would take so many years. I decided to take a shortcut.

I left my good county job and flew off to the Caribbean to join a boat crew on a 75-foot cutter, a charter sailing vessel--it used to be owned by Errol Flynn. The pay was $200 a month and expenses. So started my career on boats.

I started crewing to gain sea time. You need 370 documented days at sea before you can sit for the Coast Guard exam. I went to Mexico as a cook on a 100-foot ship and was always being called out of the galley to help to do ship’s work. I ended up going back over and over again as various and sundry members of the crew. I ended up captain of it.

Some people think you have to be strong to have a “man’s” job. But as one of my bosses adroitly pointed out, a person’s most valuable muscle is between their ears. If you need to move a heavy object, you use the right tools. And sometimes that tool might be a six-pack of beer. You go down to the dock and find someone who will move your batteries for a six-pack of Heineken.

Of course when you make something that you like your career, it is no longer fun. I don’t own a boat anymore. I windsurf--and my boat doesn’t take any maintenance.