2/25-27
It has been a trip getting back into ship-shape, and trying just to keep up with the more experienced professional crew. I am beyond the voyaging trainees but well behind the level of the pro-crew members and basically being treated just like them and very often asked to perform at their levels. Even the least experienced pro-crew member is well beyond me, I feel, but I am loving the challenge.
Saturday I worked aloft with the rest of the crew and, it being my third time aloft, was starting to get comfortable up there (this is also my first time ever working aloft without a harness, though we do use belt harnesses when doing longer projects aloft other than loosing and stowing sail).
Then we got the assignment to do work aloft I had never done before, and one of the pieces of hardware (the pin to a shackle, FYI) slipped out of my fingers and went swimming. The process of solving the problem sent me up and down the shrouds, and out and back on the yard arm several times, my feet were extremely sore and my legs were jello by the time I finished the job. Lost some confidence, got an eye-roll from the mate, and had to buy beers for everyone for my mistake. But all of that is far better than having my diaper powdered and training wheels tightened. Treat me tough, and I will get tougher.
The next morning we got a call to muster at about 4:45 to raise anchor and move the ship because were were blocking the way of an incoming cargo ship trying to get to the dock. Since there is not too much ship's work to do the crew, sparse already, has been divided into two watches and takes shifts of two days on and two days off. So, at about 5 am we manned the windlass (anchor raising crank) and hauled up the anchor. Usually a 15-16 person job, we did it with seven. I am still a bit sore.
Like I said, still getting into ship shape.
But, our work was rewarded with one of the most brillant sunrises I have ever seen.

Today is the first day of our two days off. I have SCUBA dived for the first time ever and loved it. We weren't even training in a pool, we trained off a dock. It was a really bizarre feeling of elation combined with holding off claustrophobia (though that passed as I got used to being under water). Tonight we are headed to Sufriere with the local guys we befriended at the rum shop. Sufriere is a place where boiling sulfur meets the cool ocean, and a warm bubbling spring is the result, fenced in by picturesque boulders. Apparently some scenes from Pirates of the Caribbean were filmed there as well.

So far life is hard but also very good.

Airline Drama, Carnival, and Ship's work

2/19:
After checking out of my hotel in San Juan, Puerto Rico, I headed to the airport to check in for my flight to Dominica. Much to my surprise, the airline I had booked tickets with, Caribbean Sun, had gone out of business.
OK, so now what.
The lady at the check-in counter was able to find another flight headed to Dominica, but it left nearly two hours earlier than my previously booked flight, and was with American Airlines… in another terminal. So, with my time cut even shorter than I had anticipated, I hoofed it through the San Juan airport, lugging my bags, and managed to make it to the plane in time. The plane, mind you, was little more than a crop duster with AA painted on the tail. They didn’t even serve cranberry juice. Oh well, a tiny plane to Dominica is better than a defunct plane to Dominica.
The drive from the airport to the docks was beautiful, and the narrow road wound through the island’s mountainous heart through breathtaking jungle. It reminded me of the hours spent in a bus in Costa Rica last May.
I found my way on to the ship, was shown my bunk, and then tossed into the fire with machine gun orientations: “Hi my name is _____ and this is ______ and I am _____ and this where we keep the ______, and this is the ______ but you’ll never need to worry about using that.”
Also, the Picton Castle has apparently taken on a rather high-profile charter, and I have signed a release promising not to divulge any secrets until everything is public. All I can say is that the ship will be involved in filming, and we will be in Dominica till the end of April, which I just found out. Believe me, when I can talk about all of it I will, because I have a feeling this will be a very unique experience.
After most of the crew went ashore to sleep in a hotel the chartering production company has kindly paid for (we sleep there in shifts), the remaining crew members sat at midships and shared drinks. With the drum beats of Carnival pulsing across the port, we talked and joked and tossed pistachio shells at each other before turning in.

2/20:
Today was my first official day. I have to say, it was a bit frustrating, but only because of me. Everyone onboard seems warm and it is a welcoming crew. I was frustrated because I was rusty. I wanted to just jump in and be super-sailor, but it wasn’t so. I was on a new ship, and it was mostly unfamiliar territory. I was still adjusting, and everyone else was in the full swing of ship work, so I felt like a bit of a nuisance when walking up to other crew and saying, “what can I do to help?” I felt like I said that twice as many times as “hi, I’m Ben.” From what I can tell, an experienced crew member doesn’t need to ask where he is needed, he already has a pretty good idea.
I managed to embarrass myself pretty well when the first mate asked me to lend a hand with the braces (one of the main lines on the ship). Instead of grabbing a brace, I grabbed the line next to it. He gave me a funny look and said, “Umm… that’s the fender, mate.” I sheepishly grabbed the correct line and helped him haul on it. But my brain fart left me feeling stupid. Grabbing a fender line instead of a brace is similar to being asked to roll down the window, and the tilting your seat all the way back with a puzzled, “I don’t know!” look on your face. Oh well. Tomorrow I will be more like the sailor I should be.
After work, which starts at 8:00 am and goes to about 4:30 or 5:00 pm, we got our stuff and took our turn at the hotel. I hopped in the hotel shower, soaked up the hot water (only cold showers on the boat) and we all headed into town for the last night of Carnival.
Carnival was about the ultimate island party. Thousands of people packed the streets of Roseau, Dominica’s capital city, and were all dancing and shouting with the booming music.
I jumped in.
I’m not much of a partier anymore, but Carnival in the islands was an experience that I did not want to miss. The mob was shepherded through the avenues buy massive party trucks with two-tier dance floors and live bands. Apparently there were several of these weaving through the city. All the people on the streets flowed with the trucks. I jumped into the crowd and bounced with the throbbing mass, I was literally swept along by the mob, and had very little say about which direction I went, though never losing sight of my crew-mates. For the ten or fifteen minutes I was a participant, Carnival was exhilarating but I don’t think I would want much more than that. My loud party days are well behind me, and I prefer something much more in line with what I found next.
One of the crew is friends with a man named Sarge who runs a very small rum, tea and spice shop called “The Ruins.” He had closed shop for Carnival, but when he saw us he opened up and served us some samples of his homemade spiced rums. I tried a dozen or so flavors, but the best were the river-grape, coffee, ginger, and chocolate rums. We sampled and talked, and bounced with the music outside, but it was intimate, warm and relaxed – my scene exactly.
Having gotten my fill of Carnival and spiced rum (while maintaining a decorum of moderation and temperance of course), and with my feet getting sore, I am definitely thankful to be back at the hotel and in a real bed. But, so far, it has already been a fantastic experience, and by the end of our two months in Dominica I expect to have a good acquaintance for the island and its people.

Much Love and God Bless,
Ben

Lesson Tally:
1) Don’t drink too much OJ
2) Carnival is not just for Brazilians
3) Married people don’t call each other
4) Don’t buy plane tickets for planes that don’t exist
5) Don’t drink rum that has been lit of fire (one person nearly caught themselves on fire, and nobody else seemed to enjoy it either. I passed on it.)
6) If, for a moment, you are not dancing at Carnival, the locals think there is something wrong with you.


2/21/07
Today was uneventful enough. The most exciting part was an early awakening at 5:00 am to move the ship because she was taking too much damage from the dock. Now, being anchored, there wasn’t much ship-work to do, so I took in the crew handbook, went over some of the lines and rigging, took a nap, and generally was at my leisure. The sunset though was magnificent, and just as it was setting a big full rigged ship passed by picking up new crew or passengers. I took about half a dozen photos, but could have taken three or four times the amount. It was a blessing of a sight. I wish I could find someone who would pay me to take photos of sunsets. I bet 40% of the pictures I take are of sunsets and skies.

2/22/07
Today was a hard work day. I am sore to the bone virtually everywhere. But it was also a good day. For the first time yet, I felt like I was back in my sailor’s rhythm, mostly during one activity: pulling on ropes. The most fundamental of fundamental in sailing work (The proper term of course is not ropes but lines, but I just like the way “pulling on ropes” sounds. It’s much more punchy. But for all the purists: hauling on lines.)
I also thought a lot about what it is I want to learn from sailing, how I want to further discover what kind of man I’ve been made to be.
Sailing is unique because it offers beauty and romance in plenty, but neither come immediately nor easily. The nice idea of sailing, cutting through crystal waters with bright white sails on a clear breezy day would sound good to just about anyone. But the reality is that is only a fraction of what working on a ship is about. Being a true sailor is about living a life of menial tasks (today: sorting scraps of canvas and rubber that get tied around docking lines to prevent chafing, and rinsing off the entire quarterdeck with a rag and bucket of fresh water so it can be repainted), basic housekeeping (today: dishes, scrubbing heads (toilets) and shower), to physically taxing manual labor (carrying large, heavy boxes up and down ladders).
The romance of sailing, for me, is what courses through all those tasks. I am doing part of what it takes to make the ship run, and run smoothly. Painters must wash their brushes, and sailors must sometimes put aside all their skills and expertise (hypothetical sailors of course, I still have very little of these two things) with what would normally be common tedious tasks – and they are indeed tedious.
But this work does not deter me nor bring second thoughts. Every pass of a sponge across a greasy pan does not bring disquiet or thoughts of higher paying jobs like reporter or teacher or Wal-Mart cashier. Rather, in each job I am filled with thoughts of, “This is home. This is good. The cleaner this head, the cleaner the ship, the cleaner the ship, the happier the crew, the happier the crew, the better the job, this is home, this is good, this is life, life is good.”
Seriously. Now, I don’t particularly like scrubbing the heads and all that, but I like what it brings. Being a good sailor, being the kind of sailor I want to be, comes with outpacing the sufferings of the job with the love of the job.
I think this is similar in life. Being a good man is surpassing the sufferings and burdens of your circumstances. You can choose to merely meet your circumstances, but that is nothing more than day to day, moment to moment survival. That is the difference between a man and a good man. I don’t want to survive, I want to thrive.
That is where my romance is too. Because after a hard day of pushing my body and tedious chores, I know that I have helped make this ship better – a key part of what it means to be a good sailor.
My romance is there, and it is over the horizon, and in the fibers of the line as my hand runs across, and it is in the sunset, and it comes every time someone calls out a seafaring word like “avast!” or we all chant “2-6 HEAVE!” as we square the braces. It is in the two wide-eyed Domincan boys following me around on shore, asking about the ship and my marlin spike and knife. “Is that your home? You work there? Peek-tone castle? What is this for? What do you cut with it? You climb to the top? That is your home?”
My romance is everywhere and it is in everything, but it is not easy to find. It must be dug for and earned. I am glad to have it.

Feb 18th, Day of Departure:

Well, I am sitting in O’Hare airport in Chicago, waiting for my flight to San Juan, Puerto Rico. My flight lands in San Juan at 12:30 AM tonight, and I don’t fly out to Port Roseau, Dominica until about three in the afternoon tomorrow. I can’t wait to get there, though I am less than excited about spending the night in the Puerto Rican airport. I learned online that when I arrive in Dominica it will be during the tail end of their month long celebration of Carnival. I didn’t know they celebrated Carnival anywhere but Brazil, but apparently they do in Dominica. I am really curious about their festivities, and hope I can catch a glimpse on my way from the airport to the ship.
I was a little nervous about my health for this trip. Thursday night I drank about a half gallon of orange juice, and had an upset stomach all day Friday. Nothing says, “Get ready to explore strange tropical places in a big boat” like 24 hours of nausea. Thankfully, Saturday was puke-free.
I have already had two farewell phone calls to special-lady-friend-Andrea, with at least one more to make. I think a good way to judge the seriousness of a relationship is how many times you have to call each other to say goodbye. We are currently at about three or four. I suppose when you get engaged the number shoots up to eight or ten, and then, once you get married, you may or may not get a text message saying, “bye.” I think three or four is a good place for us right now.
Obviously I am looking forward to this new adventure. One of the things I am most looking forward to is sailing for Captain Moreland.
My uncle, who got me tangled up in all this sailing mumbo-jumbo, said this about him: “Capt Dan Moreland is one of the best traditional sailors in the world, and a great friend of mine. He and I share professional heritage, each of us having served and apprenticed under Capt Arthur Kimberly in the brigantine Romance. Sad to say (and not to sound too boastful, I hope) Dan is one of the few tall ship sailors that I actually admire, respect, and look up to, because (also sad to say) he is one of the few who is the Real Deal. He is a hard master, but a deep one, and not an ounce of bullshit in him.”
I look forward to being pushed on this trip, both as a sailor and as a man. The people in my life that have pushed me the hardest to be my best have become some of my favorite people, dearly valued teachers and mentors and good friends. I will work to be my best on the Picton Castle, for Captain Moreland and for myself.
Otherwise, I guess I’ll hate ever second of it, and this will become a rather depressing blog.
I hope not, though.
FYI: The Picton Castle is a 179 foot steel-hulled Barque (Barques have at least three masts, with square sails on all but the mast furthest aft called the mizzen mast), with enough berths for as many as 52 people.
I don’t know how often I will have internet access in the islands. I honestly have no expectations, but maybe here or there my time on shore will lead me to a welcoming café or hotel with a wireless connection, and I can upload journal entries and photos.
Thanks for all your support prayers and anything else.
Hopefully this is the start of a great adventure and learning experience, and one of many more to come.

Cheers and Much Love,
Ben

Lessons learned so far:
1) Don’t drink too much OJ
2) Carnival is not just for Brazilians
3) Married people don’t call each other