Tall Ships

8/11
I’m exhausted. We’re winding down the first of our three Tall Ship festivals here in Bergen There are scores of ships here from nearly as many countries. We and the Mexican naval training ship comprise the North American delegation, and there are ships here from South America, Russia and nearly every country in Europe. All that to-do about the international community seen in the Olympics is common place for sailors, and was even more so when the age of sail was at its peak.

Yesterday was packed, starting with a basketball tournament. Our delegation dominated at first, but ended up getting eliminated by a team from Poland in the quarter finals. Unfortunately, I lost my camera at the tournament, so pictures will be a bit tougher to come by. After basketball was a parade through town complete with marching bands, color guards, military dress whites, and then us, the Picton Castle crew: sarongs, pool toys, foul weather gear, topical shirts, flags from around the world, Polynesian drums, a shrunken head, a juggler, cakewalking and shippy marching formations through the rain in Bergen, and irritating the naval cadets from Uruguay.

Immediately afterwards was a crew party held in a fancy hall that started civilized enough, but put a few hundred sailors in a big room, give them free beer, and then expect them to go home at 2300? Please. Reality deserves more respect than that. As the party was officially ending the last remaining sailors (about 150 of us) were gathered around a table bellowing shanties as the wait-staff did all they could for an hour or so to politely remove us from the facility, before security came and finally succeeded, ushering the singing procession, us all the while hollering “Leave Her Johnny, Leave Her” down the stairs, out the doors and into the streets. There’s no one on the planet better suited for rowdy friends than sailors.

Today things are rainy and quiet. Every one is gearing up to get underway for the big race to Den Helder tomorrow. I spent my afternoon visiting old friends on the British Brig, Stavros Niarchos, shipmates and crew from my life changing trip in the 2004 Voyage of Understanding in the Prince William, her sister ship. It’s amazing how, in Bergen, Norway, on the other side of the planet, I find myself bumping into familiar faces on the street. This community of ships is a fantastic little world.

8/13
We’ve left Bergen, finally. We departed yesterday with the parade of sail but turned back before the race to Den Helder started because our shipmate and cat, Chibley, has been missing since Saturday. We’ve had all hands off-watch scouring the city and following every lead, which many sympathetic locals have been happy to offer. The whole town rallied to help. One man came running from dinner with his wife in a café across town to say that he’d just seen a little brown tabby with a blue collar. John and Marie checked, but it wasn’t our Chibley. We’ve had reporters all day coming and asking questions and taking photos. “Square rigger pulls out of tall ships race in search of ship’s cat.” The story spread through the Norwegian national news, and by the end of the day was international news.

Thankfully she was returned to us by the people who found her. They spotted her in an alley eating a cheeseburger Friday night and took her home. Then they saw her in the news and brought her back. We are glad to have her home, and she’s glad to be back. She’s been extremely affectionate since her return.

She’s a big part of the lore of the Picton Castle, having been aboard for all four world voyages. There would have been a lot of long faces for a long time had we not found her. The mood was grim yesterday as we cast off dock lines and took part in the parade without her.

8/15
Ghosting along in the North Sea. Headed South-southwest, steering full-and-by with a very light Southeasterly breeze, en route for Den Helder, Netherlands.

8/17
Ripping along all day. 150 nautical miles out. Force 5 wind. All sails set. Making seven knots. Then a nasty little squall popped up, and we doused all our canvas. Sam and I went up to stow the fore t’gallant, urged into haste by the thunder and lightning looming ahead of us. Safe and sound on deck, Sam, the younger brother of our 2nd mate, Paul, and one of the green (and fast-learning) hands aboard beamed, “That’s one of the coolest things I’ve ever done!” We like Sam.

8/19
Anchored just east of Den Helder. A nasty low has developed, and Captain decided yesterday to wait it out here, rather than motoring strait into it for another five or ten hours. No point in burning all those dinosaurs and covering so little ground.

8/27/
The Den Helder festival is over. The crew parade was an absolute blast, and we put on the best show for the huge crowds, but it was exhausting. We cakewalked and marched and swirled and through pretty much the entire town, the parade lasting an hour and a half. By the end of it we were all pooped. But it was a lot of fun. We even got a few rounds of applause from the onlookers after marching in formation of our yards and spanker, and then mimicking sail maneuvers.

The highlight of festival though was the party we hosted aboard our ship. All our friends from the other ships came and we had music blasting and people were dancing all over the decks, and then BOOMBOOMBOOM! and a thirty-minute fireworks show set off, to which we provided the musical accompaniment. After another hour of dancing, cakewalking, and Wearing Purple, we headed over for the next leg of the evening at the Norwegian ship, Sørlandet.

From there, a few of us headed over to see a ship in progress, the Tres Hombres. The people there are doing exciting things. They are building a brigantine specifically for fair-trade cargo. This is a new trend in the tall ships world, but it is building steam, and with our current energy situation, along with the growing demand for sustainable, eco-friendly means of living, sailing ships are being turned to as logical harbingers, and showing promise of once again dotting the horizon in the endless global trade of goods. The people at Tres Hombres have had such a positive response from prospective customers that they already need more ships, and they haven’t even finished the first one. They hope to add a ship to their fleet yearly.

Now we are here in Bermerhaven, Germany, for the last of our circuit of Tall Ships festivals. It should be a fun time, but what I am most excited for is the arrival of my little sister, Katherine, who is coming to visit the ship with some friends. I’ve never had anyone from my shoreside life come and see the Picton Castle before. It’s a special ship, with a first class culture on board, and I can’t wait to share it.

Things in Scandinavia are Expensive

7/29
Anchored now in Mærstrand, Sweden, a beautiful little resort town, and a good decompression stop after Copenhagen.

I think Copenhagen may be one of the coolest cities I’ve ever seen. The people are friendly enough, but the city itself is a maze of squares and domes, spires and sculptures, cobblestone roads, and canals. It’s expensive too.


I saw Batman. I want to see it again and again and again. I was giddy and stupid beforehand, but I came out of the theatre with an ethereal inner glow of childish glee, having finally consummated what was one of the most thrilling, anticipated, and fulfilling movie watching experiences in my entire life. I went to the Imperial Theatre in Copenhagen, paid 105 kronor ($21), and sat down in front of the biggest screen in Scandinavia.

In the afternoon Sailmaker Buddy and I went for a walk around Christiana, one of the last havens of the free-love movement left over from the 60’s. Nestled right in town, some hippie squatters took over an abandoned military base and set up a commune, independent of the Danish government, where they live for free, grow their own veggies, make artwork, paint trees and rocks and stuff, and make money off of tourists.

The main town felt like little more than a hippie theme park set up for curious oustiders, so Buddy and I took to the trails and walked back into the compound and among the very quaint if eccentric dwellings nestled along the river bank. It’s nice that they can have their place to live their unoffending, tax-free, hippie lifestyles, but they really don’t do a whole lot of good either, just maintaining their neutral existence. I think I would have really dug it when I was in high school, but it’s not really my scene anymore. It was cool to see it though. Apparently its days are numbered, as the Danish government wants to take control of it and get tax money off the real estate and the commerce, such as it is.

The next day I got up early and took the train out to Helsingør to see the famous castle Kronborg, the setting of Shakespeare’s play Hamlet. Tours of the castle were outside my budget, but I managed to get inside and have a walk around where I could.


That's Sweden on the other side of the sound. Those cannons have been pointed there for a very long time.
In the evening I met up with a familiar face, Annalisa, who used to babysit us Rogers offspring way back whenin Kansas City. Now she’s a big time business woman in Copenhagen with a Danish husband, Gustav. We went to Tivoli, the famous old amusement park in the middle of downtown, rode all the rides, talked about what we were doing these days, and marveled at our circumstances. I love how life brings people together in unexpected ways.
So now we’ve made our little detour here in Sweden, and it’s proved to be well timed. We aren’t staying for long, just two days, but it’s nice to be in a place where things are so leisurely after the week in the big city, which was beginning to get overwhelming and expensive.

On my day off, Mike and Nadja and I hiked up to an old fort from the 1600’s, we ducked inside with a tour group, and then split off and explored the inside on our own, ducking through dank underground tunnels, up shadowy stone staircases, peeking into old torture chambers, and occasionally finding ourselves on an elevated grassy terrace overlooking the rugged coast, blue water, and our lovely little barque. After our tour of the castle we, went and sat on a rock at the water, swam a bit, napped a bit, drank some beers, and watched clouds. A good way to spend the day.

7/31
In Norwegian waters headed for Christiansand, a quiet, ghosting sail, running before the wind under all squares. We’ve been bending on more sails in preparation for the upcoming tall ships race from Bergen to Den Helder. The flying jib, main t’gallant stays’l, with the gaff tops’l on the way soon – the kites. We may put something up on one of the mizzen stays too.
Last night we saw a comet or meteor or something in the sky. A bright turquoise streak went burning over our starboard side just past the fore shrouds. I don’t know if it was imagination or not, but a few of us swear we could hear it crackling. I’ve seen something like that once before, in Dominica, but it was dark orange.

Tonight there was a fishing party on the aloha deck, as Luke, Nate, Sam, and Wild Bill were putting out trawling lines. Wild Bill hooked a mackerel almost the instant he put his line in, and his second one came just as fast. No one was really surprised though. It’s just how things work when you’re Wild Bill. The end total was 24 for the group. Donald cooked them up the next day.

The sky never really gets dark here, even at midnight. There’s always an orange glow on the horizon.

Chibley is going crazy tonight. She’s climbing the mast, howling. Sometimes she gets goofy.

8/5
Alongside in Stavanger, Norway, home of none other than Lead Seaman Kjetil “Shackle” Dimmen. I am thrilled to be here. Shackle is one of my favorite people. It was him and me for most of this winter, doing the maintenance on the rig and taking care of the ship, and he became a good friend of mine. There’s really no one else on this planet quite like him. He’s unanimously regarded as weird by the rest of us, and has a sense of humor that is a mixture of Monty Python, and that bizarre uncle you have who smells kind of funny and says things that make your parents roll their eyes and change the subject.
Classic Shackle remark:
In describing for Mike the impressive beauty of a woman he’d noticed, he said, “On a scale of English to Norwegian…she was Swedish."

Today we sent down the main t’gallant for repairs and bent on the gaff tops’l.

Stavanger makes Copenhagen look like Budget City. One beer costs $20 U.S. I’ll pass.