7/22
We’ve made it to Copenhagen. We stopped for the weekend in the small coastal town of Korsør, where a traditional wooden boat festival was taking place, with a race around the island yesterday morning as the capstone event. We were invited to attend and serve in the race as pace car, so to speak.
One of the ships there was the sleek white German pilot schooner, Elba 5, more famously known as Wander Bird, the vessel Captain Irving Johnson took around Cape Horn and all over the globe as he pioneered modern sail training in North America. He was the Father Abraham for people like us, and this was his ship where it started. She is slick too. Raked masts, a sharp nearly-plumb bow, roomy below decks, and a dry, tight wooden hull; she was built for North Sea piloting, to sail fast and sound in all conditions.
We led the start of the race, the wooden ships went their course, and we continued on for Copenhagen, arriving noon today.
The city is littered with ice cream shops and I made several inquiries, all with successful results. After dinner, Kolin and I crossed paths and continued our tromp of the city with the hopes of finding some live music, preferably jazz. More success: We found a little basement pub nestled in one of the many city squares where a Dixieland trio was playing, led by a stellar clarinet.
He and I hunkered down there for the rest of the evening, talking, listening to music, and being talked at by a couple of drunk locals. One man started out useful enough offering tourism advice, but he quickly avalanched into lots of talk with little point.
“You know the Danes cut down all their trees to build the ships, so the government commissioned people to plant more trees and then let them know when the trees were ready, and in 1971, they called the government and said, ‘Your trees are ready now.’” He talked like this from the time he sat down until we left, about two hours later (he followed us out the door). I by-and-largely ignored him, preferring the band, but he had Kolin’s ear snared the whole time.
The local I had to deal with, though not so long winded, was equally cumbersome. He was wearing camouflage cargo pants and a satin, Hawaiian-print shirt. About every 20 minutes he would come up to me, clamp his hand on my shoulder or around the back of my neck, put his face eight inches away from mine and shout, “It’s queer week this week you know! You don’t have to be homo to go, just kind of for weird or different people, witches and homos and lesbios and stuff. You don’t have to be a homo. It’s not just for homos. It’s queer week!” He seemed really concerned that I get the message about participating in queer week.
I’ve been told I look gay before, but never was it declared with as much fervor. I don’t know if I should feel complimented or look for a new wardrobe, though being a single man hitting the streets Copenhagen and shopping for a new wardrobe is not the best first step in any attempts to solidify a heterosexual image. So I look gay sometimes. Oh well. Bruce just says I look “very Danish.”
7/23
The new Batman movie comes out in Denmark today. I am on duty. I have to wait another day. So it goes. I’ve waited about a year already anyway. I can’t remember the last time I was this excited about a new movie.
I had a nightmare last night, the kind only sailors can have. In my dream I awoke bleary eyed, having overslept. The focsle was empty. Coming on deck I looked up aloft and saw Mike, the Chief mate, on the main yards with the rest of the crew shaking out every sail, which I had furled just the day before, and re-furling them because my job had been so poor. It was horrible. A sailor takes pride in his harbor furls. Thankfully, it was just a dream.
I had a good work day today. Spent most of it in the shrouds replacing busted ratlines. The weather has been fantastic. There aren’t many places better than Denmark in the summer.
Another ice cream cone after dinner.
(I’m going to see Batman tomorrow)
July 23, 2008
July 17, 2008
Eastward
7/10
Bound for Denmark. The weather is sunny and warm, wind and current are fair, and we are crossing the North Sea, coming around the Netherlands and headed for the Kiel Canal.
David, one of the trainees aptly assessed our favorable weather: “I think we’ve earned it.” At every port so far we’ve been delayed departing by bad weather, and Brixham, England, our last port, was the worst of it so far. We planned on only staying two days, and ended up staying nearly a week as the weather never let up until Tuesday, when we finally had enough of a window to escape into the English Channel. Yesterday, Wednesday, was squally and nasty, but the winds and current were cooperating and we made very good time, shooting past the famous white cliffs of Dover, through the Dover straits, catching a brief glimpse of France, and skating alongside the busy traffic lanes of the English Channel.
Bound for Denmark. The weather is sunny and warm, wind and current are fair, and we are crossing the North Sea, coming around the Netherlands and headed for the Kiel Canal.
David, one of the trainees aptly assessed our favorable weather: “I think we’ve earned it.” At every port so far we’ve been delayed departing by bad weather, and Brixham, England, our last port, was the worst of it so far. We planned on only staying two days, and ended up staying nearly a week as the weather never let up until Tuesday, when we finally had enough of a window to escape into the English Channel. Yesterday, Wednesday, was squally and nasty, but the winds and current were cooperating and we made very good time, shooting past the famous white cliffs of Dover, through the Dover straits, catching a brief glimpse of France, and skating alongside the busy traffic lanes of the English Channel.
We had a good time in England, but everyone seemed thankful to be back at sea again.
My first day off in Brixham I went on an excursion with trainees W.T., Wild Bill, and master cook Donald. We rented a car and drove along the coast to the village of Salcomb. Nestled in a cove there is a famous shipwreck of one of the last working commercial square riggers. It had gone aground outbound from Falmouth, after having just finished a circumnavigation.
In an effort to salvage the vessel and its cargo it was towed into this cove, but unfortunately she broke her back on the sand and was lost.
My first day off in Brixham I went on an excursion with trainees W.T., Wild Bill, and master cook Donald. We rented a car and drove along the coast to the village of Salcomb. Nestled in a cove there is a famous shipwreck of one of the last working commercial square riggers. It had gone aground outbound from Falmouth, after having just finished a circumnavigation.
In an effort to salvage the vessel and its cargo it was towed into this cove, but unfortunately she broke her back on the sand and was lost.
The wreck site
We arrived at low tide when conditions would be best for sighting the wreck, but there’s not much left to see. The ship was made of steel, and the decades in salt water have all but disintegrated her, leaving behind only a shadow of seaweed growing on what little there was left.But we had a great day anyhow. It was a fantastic hike up to the cliff overlooking the cove, and the drive through the countryside was beautiful. England and Ireland have some of the prettiest countryside I’ve ever seen. We had an absolute blast all day. We stopped into a little local pub in Salcomb, and Bill, W.T. and Donald chatted up the locals and boasted about the ship and sold it like true square rigger evangelists.
Wild Bill on the hike up the cliff.
Donald taking in the view.
W.T., Donald and me atop the cliff in Salcomb.
My next day out was just as good. Susie, Mike, Nadja and I hopped on an old-timey steam train to Dartmouth. Our train car was filled with mostly little kids, but we blended in without too much trouble.
Nadja, Susie, and me with the train. (Mike took the picture)
We spent the rest of the day in Dartmouth exploring book stores, old alleyways, and then ducked out of the rain into an ancient English pub with smoky wooden beams and white washed plaster walls and some of the best draught cider I’ve ever had.
The pub
Bosun Kolin makes ready the swing rope.
Deckhand Sara, and trainees Jackie and Luke jump off the jibboom.
All of us frigid, questioning the wisdom of our Brixham swimcall.
7/13
Docked briefly in Kiel, Germany after passing through the canal. Kiel was a beautiful city, with a lot of history. Originally chartered in 1242, very little of it remains as its location made it an ideal naval base for the German forces, and an equally prime target in WWII, hit by over 90 bombing raids.
Kolin takes his trick at helm in the Kiel Canal.
We only spent a day there before throwing off docklines and making our way out into the Baltic Sea for the short skip up to Svendborg, Denmark.
7/16
Landed in Denmark. Home of Legoland and Hamlet. Had all of yesterday off. The captain has insisted that we all get some extra time ashore to explore here, as it has a lot of fantastic seafaring tradition, and was a significant training ground for him in his career.
In Svendborg is the Ring Anderson Shipyard, one of the last remaining in the world that still builds wooden ships. It is where the famous brigantine Romance was built, a ship in which the Captain served as crew as did my uncle Bert.
The yard is closed for the season, but we were still able to walk around and peek our heads into the work bays and explore the docks, loaded with all kinds of cool old wooden vessels.
I really like Denmark. It’s clean, the architecture is fantastic, with old wood-framed buildings still standing and housing modern shops and apartments. There isn’t too much traffic, the people are friendly, and the atmosphere is low key, and even when the streets are crowded with people there is still a calmness about things; it feels very civilized here, very comfortable. But the people here still know how to have a good time.
Last night we all collected at a local pub where the live entertainment was a blues guitar maestroed by a man with a voice like Eric Clapton plus a Danish accent.
Our day work has been mostly little projects here and there: replacing broken ratlines, staying on top of rust, keeping the paint and varnished wood looking bright, just general maintenance. The ship’s really been great to us so far, and we are working hard to keep her looking and functioning at her peak level. Even the engine room received a fresh coat of paint, and some brass polish to boot.
July 1, 2008
Falmouth For Orders
6/25
Here we are tied up in Cobh, a beautiful town outside of Cork, one of the largest cities in Ireland. The ship is docked alongside the same quay where the final passengers loaded the Titanic nearly a century ago. As we sailed into the harbo(u)r under full canvas, crossing between two forts left over from the world war, and along the waterfront of the town nestled into the hillside, the bell tower of the immense cathedral chimed four, and people lined the docks, waving and cheering. Ireland really has been a bit of a dreamland stop.
We had a great time in out first port, Baltimore. Our stay was extended a few extra days because a gale stopped by, reaching a force 9, but it gave us some more time for getting the ship into sparkling shape, and getting familiar with the locals. Someone dug out a newspaper clipping from the Picton Castle’s past life reporting that she had ducked into this very same harbor so many years ago to weather a storm, and others told about family members who had sailed in her in those days of trawling and freighting. Our final two nights in Baltimore we were cozied up in Bushes bar with guitars and drums, fiddles and accordions, singing old tunes and falling into that sublime warmth that so often comes with good friends.
6/26
I think yesterday might have been one of the best days I’ve had in a very long time – and I’ve had some unbelievable days lately. I rented a hotel room on a hill facing out onto the cathedral and over the harbor, and woke up this morning slowly in my great big bed, the sunshine coming over me and church bells ringing. Then it was a walk into town for a nice Irish breakfast, a stop in to pick up my clean laundry, and a train ride into Cork to hang out with Mike, Susie, and Chris.
In Cork we ducked into a dingy pub that was plastered with old movie and concert posters, and bills for local acts all over. The downstairs area was all booths and tables, pretty generic seating options, but the upstairs was old dining room tables, dentists’ chairs, lawn furniture, and all sorts of ways to sit. There were more of the music posters all with names revealing this place as a familiar home of good times and cool scenes.
From there I wandered off by myself and into a music shop and pretended for a while that I was going to buy an instrument. I looked at accordions, guitars, banjos, and mandolins, and then said to the woman behind the counter, “Now what I really want is a melodica,” (which is true). They didn’t have any, and I doubt I would’ve bought one anyhow, but it was fun to look and play all the nice guitars.
We headed into downtown and found a Mexican restaurant. It felt a bit strange being in a Mexican restaurant in Ireland, but it appealed to us, so we went on in. It was pretty good, though it was definitely not like most places back in the states. Margaritas were eight Euros, and about as many ounces as well. The jalapenos were hot though, so I was happy anyways.
The next stop for us was the old Jameson distillery in Midleton, just a short cab ride from Cork. They had been distilling the famous Irish whiskey there in the old casks and copper pot stills for generations, before moving to more modern facilities in 1975. Besides an over-the-top cheese ball video at the beginning, the tour was great. The distillery was a stone compound of buildings looking like they could have doubled as a military base if needed. The mill stones and most of the power in the facility were driven by a massive water wheel, 22 feet in diameter.
One of the things that distinguishes Irish whiskey from other whiskies is the distillation process, Irish whiskey being distilled three times, Scotch twice, and American once, and the first stage pot-still at the old Jameson distillery is the largest one in the world. At the end of the tour was a taste testing where the guide provided us with a sample of Jameson’s generic seven year-old brew, Johnnie Walker Black Label Scotch, and Jack Daniels’ American whiskey. This was followed with the obligatory, “Which do you like best?” To which we responded with the obligatory, “Jameson, of course.” We then were bestowed with whisky tasting certificates. It’s rewarding to finally be officially recognized.
At our table we sat with the pilot, co-pilot, and stewardess of the private plane owned by Jay-Z, who is touring Europe right now. They assured us that Jay-Z and Beyonce are very nice, down to earth people.
That evening back in Cobh we went to a nice little restaurant for dinner, and, guitar in hand, hiked up past the cathedral to a fantastic little Irish pub called the Roaring Donkey where there was the promise of live music. The band was there and, after some encouragement from my peers and a pint, I picked up my guitar and asked if I could join in. They invited me into their session, and I achieved instant nirvana, spending the rest of the night in that cozy Irish pub, playing Irish tunes with an Irish band, guitars, flutes, banjo, bodhran, and some weird elbow-bag-pipe-thing, all with a stupid grin plastered across my face, and every so often a hand would reach over and put a fresh pint in front of me. When the banjo player started the first measures of one of my favorite tunes, “Dirty Old Town,” my euphoria spiked and I just laughed and sang and at that moment was as happy as I think might be possible.
And I even got to impress them, which was a nice surprise, because they were a legitimate band and very good musicians. But they asked me if I knew any songs, and I said I did and played “I Will Follow You Into the Dark,” by Death Cab for Cutie, and they all cheered and asked what the song was and said it was lovely. We played all night long (Irish songs aren’t too difficult to strum along with on guitar, just three or four or five different chords), until finally the place was nearly deserted, and I was sitting in the corner by myself, strumming and humming away. The bartender sat down next to me and said smiling, “Please, son, you need to leave now.” Last night will always be one of my favorite memories.
6/27
Bound for Falmouth, UK. Thick fog. 188 miles away. Should be there tomorrow night.
6/30
Arrived in Falmouth safe and sound. I’ve been on duty pretty much since our arrival and haven’t really had a chance to explore the town yet, but it is a town rich in square rigger history. This is where ships would come for orders after picking up cargo in Australia. Falmouth for orders, as they said in those days. Ships would come to Falmouth, drop anchor, and a pilot boat would cruise out and deliver word from the company as to which port the ship would find the best prices for their cargo. Picton Castle most likely has been here many times before, but this is her first time here as a barque, and her first time here as a part of those famous lines.
As we sailed in onto the hook, we were escorted by the Matthew, a replica of John Cabot’s ship. She shot her guns and we tooted our horn, and locals were buzzing around in boats of their own as well. It was a cheery little impromptu parade we had.
Here we are tied up in Cobh, a beautiful town outside of Cork, one of the largest cities in Ireland. The ship is docked alongside the same quay where the final passengers loaded the Titanic nearly a century ago. As we sailed into the harbo(u)r under full canvas, crossing between two forts left over from the world war, and along the waterfront of the town nestled into the hillside, the bell tower of the immense cathedral chimed four, and people lined the docks, waving and cheering. Ireland really has been a bit of a dreamland stop.
We had a great time in out first port, Baltimore. Our stay was extended a few extra days because a gale stopped by, reaching a force 9, but it gave us some more time for getting the ship into sparkling shape, and getting familiar with the locals. Someone dug out a newspaper clipping from the Picton Castle’s past life reporting that she had ducked into this very same harbor so many years ago to weather a storm, and others told about family members who had sailed in her in those days of trawling and freighting. Our final two nights in Baltimore we were cozied up in Bushes bar with guitars and drums, fiddles and accordions, singing old tunes and falling into that sublime warmth that so often comes with good friends.
6/26
I think yesterday might have been one of the best days I’ve had in a very long time – and I’ve had some unbelievable days lately. I rented a hotel room on a hill facing out onto the cathedral and over the harbor, and woke up this morning slowly in my great big bed, the sunshine coming over me and church bells ringing. Then it was a walk into town for a nice Irish breakfast, a stop in to pick up my clean laundry, and a train ride into Cork to hang out with Mike, Susie, and Chris.
In Cork we ducked into a dingy pub that was plastered with old movie and concert posters, and bills for local acts all over. The downstairs area was all booths and tables, pretty generic seating options, but the upstairs was old dining room tables, dentists’ chairs, lawn furniture, and all sorts of ways to sit. There were more of the music posters all with names revealing this place as a familiar home of good times and cool scenes.
From there I wandered off by myself and into a music shop and pretended for a while that I was going to buy an instrument. I looked at accordions, guitars, banjos, and mandolins, and then said to the woman behind the counter, “Now what I really want is a melodica,” (which is true). They didn’t have any, and I doubt I would’ve bought one anyhow, but it was fun to look and play all the nice guitars.
We headed into downtown and found a Mexican restaurant. It felt a bit strange being in a Mexican restaurant in Ireland, but it appealed to us, so we went on in. It was pretty good, though it was definitely not like most places back in the states. Margaritas were eight Euros, and about as many ounces as well. The jalapenos were hot though, so I was happy anyways.
The next stop for us was the old Jameson distillery in Midleton, just a short cab ride from Cork. They had been distilling the famous Irish whiskey there in the old casks and copper pot stills for generations, before moving to more modern facilities in 1975. Besides an over-the-top cheese ball video at the beginning, the tour was great. The distillery was a stone compound of buildings looking like they could have doubled as a military base if needed. The mill stones and most of the power in the facility were driven by a massive water wheel, 22 feet in diameter.
One of the things that distinguishes Irish whiskey from other whiskies is the distillation process, Irish whiskey being distilled three times, Scotch twice, and American once, and the first stage pot-still at the old Jameson distillery is the largest one in the world. At the end of the tour was a taste testing where the guide provided us with a sample of Jameson’s generic seven year-old brew, Johnnie Walker Black Label Scotch, and Jack Daniels’ American whiskey. This was followed with the obligatory, “Which do you like best?” To which we responded with the obligatory, “Jameson, of course.” We then were bestowed with whisky tasting certificates. It’s rewarding to finally be officially recognized.
At our table we sat with the pilot, co-pilot, and stewardess of the private plane owned by Jay-Z, who is touring Europe right now. They assured us that Jay-Z and Beyonce are very nice, down to earth people.
That evening back in Cobh we went to a nice little restaurant for dinner, and, guitar in hand, hiked up past the cathedral to a fantastic little Irish pub called the Roaring Donkey where there was the promise of live music. The band was there and, after some encouragement from my peers and a pint, I picked up my guitar and asked if I could join in. They invited me into their session, and I achieved instant nirvana, spending the rest of the night in that cozy Irish pub, playing Irish tunes with an Irish band, guitars, flutes, banjo, bodhran, and some weird elbow-bag-pipe-thing, all with a stupid grin plastered across my face, and every so often a hand would reach over and put a fresh pint in front of me. When the banjo player started the first measures of one of my favorite tunes, “Dirty Old Town,” my euphoria spiked and I just laughed and sang and at that moment was as happy as I think might be possible.
And I even got to impress them, which was a nice surprise, because they were a legitimate band and very good musicians. But they asked me if I knew any songs, and I said I did and played “I Will Follow You Into the Dark,” by Death Cab for Cutie, and they all cheered and asked what the song was and said it was lovely. We played all night long (Irish songs aren’t too difficult to strum along with on guitar, just three or four or five different chords), until finally the place was nearly deserted, and I was sitting in the corner by myself, strumming and humming away. The bartender sat down next to me and said smiling, “Please, son, you need to leave now.” Last night will always be one of my favorite memories.
6/27
Bound for Falmouth, UK. Thick fog. 188 miles away. Should be there tomorrow night.
6/30
Arrived in Falmouth safe and sound. I’ve been on duty pretty much since our arrival and haven’t really had a chance to explore the town yet, but it is a town rich in square rigger history. This is where ships would come for orders after picking up cargo in Australia. Falmouth for orders, as they said in those days. Ships would come to Falmouth, drop anchor, and a pilot boat would cruise out and deliver word from the company as to which port the ship would find the best prices for their cargo. Picton Castle most likely has been here many times before, but this is her first time here as a barque, and her first time here as a part of those famous lines.
As we sailed in onto the hook, we were escorted by the Matthew, a replica of John Cabot’s ship. She shot her guns and we tooted our horn, and locals were buzzing around in boats of their own as well. It was a cheery little impromptu parade we had.
7/1
Hanging out in Falmouth For Orders on my birthday. Had breakfast this morning at a little cafe tucked away in an old stone horse stall, apparently one of the oldest structures in the city. At the table next to me sat the manager and his crew, an old thin man with shaved head and big blue goatee, a tattoo of a flaming turqoise skull on his bicep. He told me about spending 1968-1971 in San Francisco, and being a roadie for Fleetwood Mac. Very friendly little place.
Tonight, for my 25th birthday, I will probably take it easy. Probably not.
Tonight, for my 25th birthday, I will probably take it easy. Probably not.
June 20, 2008
Atlantic Crossing, Bound for Ireland
5/20
My AB card came in the mail today. That was a happy surprise. I had resigned myself to disappointment, and by and large forgotten about the whole thing, when an envelope from the U.S. Coast guard is handed to me and, voila, question answered. Thankfully it was the good kind of answer.
We are staying here in Lunenburg a bit longer, delayed till Saturday. There is a string of gales coming up from the coastal States. It would not be the right foot for starting a voyage, especially with so much green crew. Everyone is excited.
These last few days before our departure have been surreal. It’s hard to believe, after all winter, and all the work we’ve done, that we are so close to departure. These few extra days will be great for spending some more quality time with beloved friends and former shipmates here to visit and see us off. It will be hard to leave them behind, and hard for them to watch us go, no doubt too.
5/23
It’s my last night in Lunenburg – I can’t believe it. It’s been some kind of winter; it’s been a fantastic winter. I really wasn’t sure what to expect when I came here in October, but I’ve learned so much and had so much fun, and grown so close to the people here that now, a few hours away from this highly anticipated departure, I find the whole thing fairly bittersweet.
We celebrated our last night at the Grand Banker, and then on the dock, a long round of tearful hugs and kisses goodbye from Picton Castle family who won’t be leaving with us tomorrow. “Start wearing purple! Shanananana!”
And then we’re gone for a year. I’ve never been to sea for a solid year before. I can’t even imagine how I will grow, how things will change, and what will stay the same by the time we are headed back into this same harbor next year.The focsle is buzzing with energy, like a room full of kids on Christmas Eve. It’s a clear, mild night, and in the morning we embark across the ocean. Next stop: Ireland.
5/24
Set sail, bound for Cork. The mayor of Lunenburg came aboard this morning and blessed the ship, her crew, and the voyage, and then after the ceremony, we began to get underway. As hands went up to loose sail, Stephanie, Finn, and Amanda rowed out in a dory. As we hauled back the anchor, they circled around us, yelling and cheering and sending us love. Then Bluenose II joined us and saw us off as we passed the breakwater at Battery Point and on out to the ovens, cliff caves just outside the harbor. Bluenose II’s second mate, Zander, led the crew in cakewalking around the schooner’s deck. All spring we’d been calkwalking in to town. Today we were cakewalked out of town. They have a good crew there for the summer. We look forward to seeing them all again soon.
The Ovens, caves in the cliffs outside Lunenburg.
It’s a sunny day, puffy clouds, nice s’westerly breeze, and we are sailing southeast to catch the bottom of the jet stream. The engine’s off; we’re doing four knots.
Lost sight of land just after dinner tonight. Won’t see the stuff again till Ireland.
The trainee crew is very well trained already. We’ve been doing safety drills every day for the past two weeks. Most everyone already knew not only their knots, but eyesplices and whippings as well before we even left the dock. There were almost no hiccups in setting sail and getting underway, a very relaxed and comfortable feel without the atmosphere of controlled chaos that is typical of first days at sea with new crew.
Sailing along, continuing across the Atlantic bound for Ireland. Conditions are perfect. Sunny, crisp, clear, and a freshening wind kicking up scattered whitecaps and registering a solid force four on the Beaufort scale. If Beethoven had his fifth, then Beaufort has his fourth. Making six knots, which isn’t super fast, but it’s a very happy speed for this little barque.
We’ve been on the same tack for nearly two days now. It’s been like tradewind sailing, but we aren’t in the trades at all, just chasing the bottom edge of a string of low pressure systems coming off the continental states. Let’s hope for more fair winds.
5/28
Weather’s turned slightly snotty this afternoon. It’s nothing very dramatic, but the winds have picked up, and the swells, which have been increasing in size the past few days, are pushing eight feet easy. Not too bad, but still nice and lumpy. We’d been running dead down wind which causes the ship to roll more, and with every really good roll you could hear the people on scullery duty yelp as they dodged the crashing pots and pans that had suddenly taken flight. Towards the end of our watch the wind shifted northerly, and we braced up sharp, greatly reducing our side to side motion and simplifying the work of after-dinner clean-up.
At one point on watch tonight we had a sail handling frenzy, as the chief mate, Mike, shouted commands from the bridge and we all scurried around the deck to haul or cast-off the appropriate lines. There has been noticeable improvement with each sail handling evolution, and the learning curve continued its upward path as the crew handled the lines quickly and safely, and the job was done smartly. Striking this, bracing that, then resetting some and up and stow!
Afterwards I made my way up to the quarterdeck to coil and hang the main braces, and was just about to say to Mike, “That was fun!” before he grinned at me and said, “That was fun!” I concurred.
5/29
During deckwash this morning I went to pick up what I thought was a glob of seaweed that had been washed aboard under the smoker’s bench on the well deck. Instead what I got was a fistful of soggy dead bird. One of the ship’s cat, Chibley’s, victims no doubt. Not a nice thing at 0630.
5/30
Wind went light early this morning. There was talk of setting the deis’l and motoring a while, but thankfully the wind perked back up a few hours into a nice15-knot westerly. A weak low-pressure system has finally passed over us, and now we are catching the top edge of the incoming high.
We’ve been learning a lot here, and improving daily, and of all the learning that’s been going on, some of the most fascinating has been the lessons in weather analysis, both in weather faxes and studying the sky overhead, and then how the ship’s adapts to the observations and predictions. One of the most basic fundamentals of this process is the direction the systems rotate, low pressure systems rotating counterclockwise, and highs clockwise. The way we catch these winds is very much like surfing wherein we want to ride on the northern edge of the highs, and the southern edge of lows for fair winds in our passage east across the North Atlantic. So far it has been going well, and today, as the high moved in and the winds shifted from northwesterly to southwesterly, the skies cleared and the air warmed up enough that people could shed layers and walk around barefoot. It feels good padding around the sunny deck without shoes, feels natural.
And after our 4pm-8pm watch I sat on the Aloha deck with Bruce and a bowl of cereal and watched the sun set behind us, the high wispy clouds turning to steel as the blushing tangerine glow skirted away, drawn slowly behind in the ceaseless parade of fire westward. Though we’ve only been gone a week, the voyage so far has been fantastic, due in no small part to the quick camaraderie and fast learning of the hands aboard
6/2
Bent on the fore royal this morning. We were preparing to bend on the main, but the weather got too snotty, and Captain told us to wait.
Mike and I spliced on new braces for the fore royal yard, but in order to do that, the old ones had to be taken off. We lashed the yard to the royal backstay, but it was still awfully loose. We took turns helping to hold the yard steady for each other, as we laid out on the yard arms to unshackle or reshackle the braces, but even still, it swung around a lot. I didn’t notice it at first, but at one point when I was wrestling with the shackle I looked down and saw the whole ship seesawing back and forth, 90 feet beneath me. For an instant it was a little alarming, but then I figured I was fine before I noticed it and nothing had changed otherwise, so I finished the job and slid inboard to the mast to do the splice. Pretty fun, really.
6/3
I think I need to stop eating so much whole grain cereal.
6/4
Stowed the fore royal. I’d forgotten how much I love the royals. Best view on the ship, and the sail is so easy I had it halfway finished before I even realized.
6/5
Spent the day playing in the rig with the other watches in lieu of my usual after breakfast nap. There was a lot of rigging work to do today, the Bosun said, and I was happy to lend a hand.
This afternoon, after working on the various rigging projects, I had a little time to lay down and get a nap before my next watch, but a happy interruption came: first a loud cry of ahhs and wows from on deck, and then Erin, a trainee, ran into the focsle and shouted, “Killer whales! Starboard beam!” I jumped out of my bunk and scurried on deck and sure enough, there they were gliding right along next to us, two shadows under the surface twenty or thirty feet away, one big, the other bigger. They sounded, catapulting their glossy black faces with white jaws and famous white marks over their eyes into clear view. I was ecstatic. Every since I’ve known about these creatures, my imagination’s been captivated. I’ve seen some in tanks at Sea World, but always dreamed of seeing one up close and personal in the wild. Wild, intelligent, and sleek, these hunters share the same aspects of awe as the sea, with their frightening power and singularly entrancing beauty, they should be feared, marveled at, and experienced. There’s a reason people worshiped these things.
My AB card came in the mail today. That was a happy surprise. I had resigned myself to disappointment, and by and large forgotten about the whole thing, when an envelope from the U.S. Coast guard is handed to me and, voila, question answered. Thankfully it was the good kind of answer.
We are staying here in Lunenburg a bit longer, delayed till Saturday. There is a string of gales coming up from the coastal States. It would not be the right foot for starting a voyage, especially with so much green crew. Everyone is excited.
These last few days before our departure have been surreal. It’s hard to believe, after all winter, and all the work we’ve done, that we are so close to departure. These few extra days will be great for spending some more quality time with beloved friends and former shipmates here to visit and see us off. It will be hard to leave them behind, and hard for them to watch us go, no doubt too.
5/23
It’s my last night in Lunenburg – I can’t believe it. It’s been some kind of winter; it’s been a fantastic winter. I really wasn’t sure what to expect when I came here in October, but I’ve learned so much and had so much fun, and grown so close to the people here that now, a few hours away from this highly anticipated departure, I find the whole thing fairly bittersweet.
We celebrated our last night at the Grand Banker, and then on the dock, a long round of tearful hugs and kisses goodbye from Picton Castle family who won’t be leaving with us tomorrow. “Start wearing purple! Shanananana!”
And then we’re gone for a year. I’ve never been to sea for a solid year before. I can’t even imagine how I will grow, how things will change, and what will stay the same by the time we are headed back into this same harbor next year.The focsle is buzzing with energy, like a room full of kids on Christmas Eve. It’s a clear, mild night, and in the morning we embark across the ocean. Next stop: Ireland.
5/24
Set sail, bound for Cork. The mayor of Lunenburg came aboard this morning and blessed the ship, her crew, and the voyage, and then after the ceremony, we began to get underway. As hands went up to loose sail, Stephanie, Finn, and Amanda rowed out in a dory. As we hauled back the anchor, they circled around us, yelling and cheering and sending us love. Then Bluenose II joined us and saw us off as we passed the breakwater at Battery Point and on out to the ovens, cliff caves just outside the harbor. Bluenose II’s second mate, Zander, led the crew in cakewalking around the schooner’s deck. All spring we’d been calkwalking in to town. Today we were cakewalked out of town. They have a good crew there for the summer. We look forward to seeing them all again soon.
The Ovens, caves in the cliffs outside Lunenburg.Lost sight of land just after dinner tonight. Won’t see the stuff again till Ireland.
The trainee crew is very well trained already. We’ve been doing safety drills every day for the past two weeks. Most everyone already knew not only their knots, but eyesplices and whippings as well before we even left the dock. There were almost no hiccups in setting sail and getting underway, a very relaxed and comfortable feel without the atmosphere of controlled chaos that is typical of first days at sea with new crew.
Trainee W.T. on forward lookout
5/26Sailing along, continuing across the Atlantic bound for Ireland. Conditions are perfect. Sunny, crisp, clear, and a freshening wind kicking up scattered whitecaps and registering a solid force four on the Beaufort scale. If Beethoven had his fifth, then Beaufort has his fourth. Making six knots, which isn’t super fast, but it’s a very happy speed for this little barque.
We’ve been on the same tack for nearly two days now. It’s been like tradewind sailing, but we aren’t in the trades at all, just chasing the bottom edge of a string of low pressure systems coming off the continental states. Let’s hope for more fair winds.
5/28
Weather’s turned slightly snotty this afternoon. It’s nothing very dramatic, but the winds have picked up, and the swells, which have been increasing in size the past few days, are pushing eight feet easy. Not too bad, but still nice and lumpy. We’d been running dead down wind which causes the ship to roll more, and with every really good roll you could hear the people on scullery duty yelp as they dodged the crashing pots and pans that had suddenly taken flight. Towards the end of our watch the wind shifted northerly, and we braced up sharp, greatly reducing our side to side motion and simplifying the work of after-dinner clean-up.
At one point on watch tonight we had a sail handling frenzy, as the chief mate, Mike, shouted commands from the bridge and we all scurried around the deck to haul or cast-off the appropriate lines. There has been noticeable improvement with each sail handling evolution, and the learning curve continued its upward path as the crew handled the lines quickly and safely, and the job was done smartly. Striking this, bracing that, then resetting some and up and stow!
Afterwards I made my way up to the quarterdeck to coil and hang the main braces, and was just about to say to Mike, “That was fun!” before he grinned at me and said, “That was fun!” I concurred.
5/29
During deckwash this morning I went to pick up what I thought was a glob of seaweed that had been washed aboard under the smoker’s bench on the well deck. Instead what I got was a fistful of soggy dead bird. One of the ship’s cat, Chibley’s, victims no doubt. Not a nice thing at 0630.
5/30
Wind went light early this morning. There was talk of setting the deis’l and motoring a while, but thankfully the wind perked back up a few hours into a nice15-knot westerly. A weak low-pressure system has finally passed over us, and now we are catching the top edge of the incoming high.
We’ve been learning a lot here, and improving daily, and of all the learning that’s been going on, some of the most fascinating has been the lessons in weather analysis, both in weather faxes and studying the sky overhead, and then how the ship’s adapts to the observations and predictions. One of the most basic fundamentals of this process is the direction the systems rotate, low pressure systems rotating counterclockwise, and highs clockwise. The way we catch these winds is very much like surfing wherein we want to ride on the northern edge of the highs, and the southern edge of lows for fair winds in our passage east across the North Atlantic. So far it has been going well, and today, as the high moved in and the winds shifted from northwesterly to southwesterly, the skies cleared and the air warmed up enough that people could shed layers and walk around barefoot. It feels good padding around the sunny deck without shoes, feels natural.
And after our 4pm-8pm watch I sat on the Aloha deck with Bruce and a bowl of cereal and watched the sun set behind us, the high wispy clouds turning to steel as the blushing tangerine glow skirted away, drawn slowly behind in the ceaseless parade of fire westward. Though we’ve only been gone a week, the voyage so far has been fantastic, due in no small part to the quick camaraderie and fast learning of the hands aboard
6/2
Bent on the fore royal this morning. We were preparing to bend on the main, but the weather got too snotty, and Captain told us to wait.
Mike and I spliced on new braces for the fore royal yard, but in order to do that, the old ones had to be taken off. We lashed the yard to the royal backstay, but it was still awfully loose. We took turns helping to hold the yard steady for each other, as we laid out on the yard arms to unshackle or reshackle the braces, but even still, it swung around a lot. I didn’t notice it at first, but at one point when I was wrestling with the shackle I looked down and saw the whole ship seesawing back and forth, 90 feet beneath me. For an instant it was a little alarming, but then I figured I was fine before I noticed it and nothing had changed otherwise, so I finished the job and slid inboard to the mast to do the splice. Pretty fun, really.
6/3
I think I need to stop eating so much whole grain cereal.
6/4
Stowed the fore royal. I’d forgotten how much I love the royals. Best view on the ship, and the sail is so easy I had it halfway finished before I even realized.
6/5
Spent the day playing in the rig with the other watches in lieu of my usual after breakfast nap. There was a lot of rigging work to do today, the Bosun said, and I was happy to lend a hand.
Susie and Shackle replacing the port main upper tops'l brace
Since we’re only a couple weeks out to sea, most of the rigging work is still done by pro crew.
Being of the 4-8 watch, we really don’t do a whole lot of day work like the 8-12 and 12-4, so it was a lot of fun to stay up and work. Usually we clean up at the end of the day, maybe wrap up a couple projects, and keep the ship clean with deckwash and an after dinner galley scrub.
During the day, with all our coils of rope splayed about on the hatch, with the main royal being prepped for bending on, Nobby, the chief engineer had himself a nap in the midst of all the deck stuff, the stuff of “damned rope pullers” as he lovingly calls us. It’s been a dream passage so far as we work across the North Atlantic, but when the chief engineer’s sawing logs on some sunny manila, you know the sailing is good.
Being of the 4-8 watch, we really don’t do a whole lot of day work like the 8-12 and 12-4, so it was a lot of fun to stay up and work. Usually we clean up at the end of the day, maybe wrap up a couple projects, and keep the ship clean with deckwash and an after dinner galley scrub.
During the day, with all our coils of rope splayed about on the hatch, with the main royal being prepped for bending on, Nobby, the chief engineer had himself a nap in the midst of all the deck stuff, the stuff of “damned rope pullers” as he lovingly calls us. It’s been a dream passage so far as we work across the North Atlantic, but when the chief engineer’s sawing logs on some sunny manila, you know the sailing is good.
This afternoon, after working on the various rigging projects, I had a little time to lay down and get a nap before my next watch, but a happy interruption came: first a loud cry of ahhs and wows from on deck, and then Erin, a trainee, ran into the focsle and shouted, “Killer whales! Starboard beam!” I jumped out of my bunk and scurried on deck and sure enough, there they were gliding right along next to us, two shadows under the surface twenty or thirty feet away, one big, the other bigger. They sounded, catapulting their glossy black faces with white jaws and famous white marks over their eyes into clear view. I was ecstatic. Every since I’ve known about these creatures, my imagination’s been captivated. I’ve seen some in tanks at Sea World, but always dreamed of seeing one up close and personal in the wild. Wild, intelligent, and sleek, these hunters share the same aspects of awe as the sea, with their frightening power and singularly entrancing beauty, they should be feared, marveled at, and experienced. There’s a reason people worshiped these things.
6/9
Turned Northwards for Ireland yesterday. We came within 30 knots of the Azores. Captain didn’t plan on coming this far south, but a strong low has been following us and we’ve been racing to stay on the right side of it.
Dolphins have accompanied us nearly every day, and yesterday a sperm whale was sighted. Captain said he hadn’t seen one in ten years.
Yesterday we had a kite flying contest, with kites made from junk in our bunks or wherever (just no ship’s supplies!). Mine was an old plastic shopping bag cut in half with a stick as a spanner to hold it open. It worked OK, but the wind kept catching the edge and it would briefly collapse, and dive-bomb all the other contestants’.
6/11
I hope they have Snickers bars in Ireland.
6/13
We’re motoring tonight, trying to get out from under a low that is forming over us.
I got a haircut today. It feels good. I liked having long hair, but it was starting to drive me crazy, always being in my face and tangling up and generally feeling gross. Nikki, one of the trainees, is a professional hairdresser and did a really nice job. I almost never like haircuts right afterwards, but I was pleased with this one.
New haircut, shaved a couple days later. I may need to dust off the photo I.D. again for shore leave.
6/15
We’ve hove-to, and are sitting at about 50 degrees North, a few hundred miles out from Ireland. We’d been steaming ahead for the past day to avoid the low forming on top of us, but it’s here, and now we’re bobbing in the ocean, in force 6 conditions, waiting for it to hit and pass. The wind and seas are coming straight on our nose, so we would be burning fuel and wasting time trying to push through it.
--
The winds have shifted. We wore ship and are now sailing on a port tack. We’d been riding the fair winds on a starboard tack for nearly three weeks, the entire way East, and then on our turn Northward, until this low formed overhead and forced us to do weird stuff like sail handling.
6/16
We saw a big pod of pilot whales today. They looked like living submarines.
6/17
Here we are nearing Ireland, the swells building and rising, breaking beneath us, and pushing landward. We have crossed the Atlantic, seeing the ocean it at its best and avoiding its worst, all by the hand of our ship’s master.
And now Ireland emerges on the horizon, first a shadow of mass shrouded in haze. Then, as we approach, the famous rugged cliffs and green hills appear – it really is so green! All are smiling, a bit giddy. Since I’ve known about Ireland I’ve wanted to come here, and I can’t think of a better way to do it. Seeing a new place come over the horizon for the first time is by far the best way to visit the world, way better than first setting eyes on new land at an airport terminal.
6/18
My first day in Ireland. Stereotypes are generally regarded as negative things, but today every stereotype I’ve held about Ireland has been blissfully confirmed. The green hills, the ruins, the little coastal town with three little cozy pubs, and the Guinness really is better here. After landing ashore in Baltimore and doing some quick online work, we got some lunch and relaxation time at Bushe, our patron pub. Then Chris, the chief engineer, Susie, a trainee, and I went for a hike up the hill. We were looking for some shipmates, but kept going, and then decided to make our way up to the ruins way up atop a cliff by the shore.
We crossed big fields of tall grasses and wildflowers, discovering another ruined house along the way, saw ponies, bulls and cows, I was zapped by an electrified cattle fence, Susie fell into a patch of bush over her head, and we had to figure out how to cross a gorge, but eventually we made it, and were rewarded with a stunning view of the countryside, the ship, and the ancient fort.
From there, after our three hour detour through the countryside, we met back up with our friends and ducked back into Bushe for dinner, a recounting of our adventures, beers, and just generally relaxed, talked, and enjoyed a stellar first day in Ireland.
Made this slide show of the first day in Ireland.
The song I put on crapped out, so put on your own soundtrack.
May 17, 2008
Coming Togethers
4/27
Finn’s Prom = Huge success. He knew we were throwing him a party in honor of getting his GED, but he had no idea of the scale. He thought it was just going to be a few people getting rowdy at someone’s house. He was wrong. Amanda and Maggie spent the better part of two days fixing up the Lunenburg fire hall, which we had rented for the night.
At 7:30 on the dot, the boys, decked out in thrift-store formals, grabbed Finn and threw him into the back of First Mate Mike’s truck. The inside had been overhauled with blankets, votives, Christmas lights, champagne on ice, and the one and only Katie Baker, Finn’s Picton Castle soul mate flown in for the night. He didn’t have a clue. He told me later he cried a little, but Katie didn’t notice. They sat in the truck and caught up while Kolin chaufferred, taking a round-a-bout way to the fire hall. The windows were blacked out, and Kolin drove for half an hour, so by the time they arrived at the hall Finn had no idea where they were. He and Katie made their grand entrance, the crowd of nearly 100 people cheered, and a few more old shipmates popped out of a giant gift box. Full sound system, computerized concert lighting, fog machine, dancing till 2.
It was perfect. A top-notch celebration of a top-notch friend working to continue his education and push on in his career as a mariner.
Katie and Finn, the grand entrance, cheering friends. 
Finn and the Captain
Eric and me playing DJ and taking a breather
Start wearing purple wearing purple...
So when this Gogol Bordello song comes on (which it does at every party) Finn and I go nuts and dance around like Fiddler on the Roof + Alice Cooper. Some people freak out, most embrace it and join in.
And as for sailing work, we’re flying. Eric, my good friend and shipmate from Gamage this summer, has been here for up-rig, and has been a huge help. Last week we completed some key rigging tasks, sending up the royal yards and the fore t’gallant, and all the braces and halyards. The main t’gallant is under construction.
5/2
Dave Westergard, master boatbuilder, has finished the main t’gallant yard, and today we sent it up. It was the first rigging work I’ve done in three days. That may not sound like a long time, but I’ve been down in the engine room with Finn and Nobby drilling and tapping holes in the steel bulkhead for hanging new wire and fuel lines. It’s important work to do, and I’ve learned a lot, but I was suffering from acute aloft withdrawal.
All four deckhands were aloft for the procedure, and it went like clockwork. We worked together well. We all knew what to do, and we crossed the yard smoothly and safely. Job well done. And for all the sailor talk that was going on, much of it was in the language of inside jokes between friends, which we all are. It was only a short while aloft, but carried the promised of a tight team and a year of strong seamanship. We all feel it, and it’s why we have so much fun.
Kolin and Eric lash up the new main t'gallant yard
Mike cross checks everything
"On the capstain, heave around!" (that's Shawn there)
The yard comes up. Me, Nadja, Kolin aloft to guide it
Bosun Kolin, the first one ever to lay out on our brand new yard, finished up the foot rope stirrup lashing.
5/3
Today, after unloading the cargo hold and organizing the contents on the dock, we broke for lunch. I went up and lay myself down on the fo’c’sle head deck, warm from the high-sunny day. The noon sun reflected off the harbor water, scattering wavelets of light on the yards. The whole rig glowed like it was alive, a weird, warm, electric energy. It seems like most days lately feel like this. The trainees are gathering. We have almost a full ship’s compliment now. Lots of new faces buzzing in the main salon.
Tonight we have a dockside barbecue with the Bluenose II crew, and the captain will be presenting them with them with fids adorned with Balinese carvings. It’s important for us to bond and share together. Both ships do very different things, but in our own unique ways we each bring great value and service to the tall ship community, and its place in the relevancy of the public consciousness – something that is in great flux today in the time of more modern commercial seafaring.
5/14
This might have been one of the most significant days in my time with the Picton Castle. In the wake of the tragedy in December, 2006 when one of Picton Castle’s crew was lost in a storm, the ship has been under extraordinary scrutiny, and making extensive improvements, all appropriate to any vessel in which a fatality is suffered, to ensure that the vessel is as safe as possible.
Today, in the climax of our efforts, we underwent three simultaneous and comprehensive safety inspections: one by the Canadian government, one by our flagship government, the Cook Islands and New Zealand, and one by a privately contracted safety inspector. At the end of the day, the representative of Transport Canada, a captain himself, said that, pending the successful execution of one more drill, he was very impressed by what he saw. It was obvious to him that the ship was in loving, skilled hands, and that he would be happy to report that he found zero deficiencies and wishes he could sail off as part of the ship’s company.
We are all proud of our ship, her Master, and proud members of her crew, and this is a very moving validation of all the hard work that’s been done, and the dedication of the Picton Castle family. It doesn’t fix what’s happened, but it affirms our constant work to improve, and the ship’s reputation as one the finest sailing vessels on the planet.
And that was just BEFORE lunch.
After lunch we continued on in form, bending on six of the thirteen sails we will be carrying for the crossing. The rig is nearly complete, and all the work we’ve been doing this winter is coming together. To be here, and be helping lead trainees in jobs like bending sail and sending up running rigging, and to be getting the jobs done is supremely rewarding. It is beyond exciting to see it all happen. I go to bed tonight a bit overwhelmed.
5/16
Finished. The rig is finished and ready. All sails bent on. New spanker boom and gaff on. And then?
Then the magic words from the Mate: “UP AND LOOSE!”
I shot up the main, Nadja up the fore, to the t’gallants, gaskets cast off, sails hanging, and down the mast loosing each sail, then to deck, hands to gear, sheet home, haul the halyards, ease the braces, the sails are set! All of them!
Mike, the 1st Mate, walked all the trainees out to the end of the dock to admire what they had just done. It felt just like Irving Johnson said in his famous film, Around Cape Horn. We got sails! All that canvas sewn together by our hands, and we put it up there with our own hands, and we set it all with our own hands! There’s not much else more satisfying as far as I’m concerned. It was cloud nine the whole time. It’s been a long, good winter, and this a fantastic layer of icing.
Finn’s Prom = Huge success. He knew we were throwing him a party in honor of getting his GED, but he had no idea of the scale. He thought it was just going to be a few people getting rowdy at someone’s house. He was wrong. Amanda and Maggie spent the better part of two days fixing up the Lunenburg fire hall, which we had rented for the night.
At 7:30 on the dot, the boys, decked out in thrift-store formals, grabbed Finn and threw him into the back of First Mate Mike’s truck. The inside had been overhauled with blankets, votives, Christmas lights, champagne on ice, and the one and only Katie Baker, Finn’s Picton Castle soul mate flown in for the night. He didn’t have a clue. He told me later he cried a little, but Katie didn’t notice. They sat in the truck and caught up while Kolin chaufferred, taking a round-a-bout way to the fire hall. The windows were blacked out, and Kolin drove for half an hour, so by the time they arrived at the hall Finn had no idea where they were. He and Katie made their grand entrance, the crowd of nearly 100 people cheered, and a few more old shipmates popped out of a giant gift box. Full sound system, computerized concert lighting, fog machine, dancing till 2.
It was perfect. A top-notch celebration of a top-notch friend working to continue his education and push on in his career as a mariner.
Katie and Finn, the grand entrance, cheering friends. Finn and the CaptainEric and me playing DJ and taking a breatherStart wearing purple wearing purple...So when this Gogol Bordello song comes on (which it does at every party) Finn and I go nuts and dance around like Fiddler on the Roof + Alice Cooper. Some people freak out, most embrace it and join in.
And as for sailing work, we’re flying. Eric, my good friend and shipmate from Gamage this summer, has been here for up-rig, and has been a huge help. Last week we completed some key rigging tasks, sending up the royal yards and the fore t’gallant, and all the braces and halyards. The main t’gallant is under construction.
5/2
Dave Westergard, master boatbuilder, has finished the main t’gallant yard, and today we sent it up. It was the first rigging work I’ve done in three days. That may not sound like a long time, but I’ve been down in the engine room with Finn and Nobby drilling and tapping holes in the steel bulkhead for hanging new wire and fuel lines. It’s important work to do, and I’ve learned a lot, but I was suffering from acute aloft withdrawal.
All four deckhands were aloft for the procedure, and it went like clockwork. We worked together well. We all knew what to do, and we crossed the yard smoothly and safely. Job well done. And for all the sailor talk that was going on, much of it was in the language of inside jokes between friends, which we all are. It was only a short while aloft, but carried the promised of a tight team and a year of strong seamanship. We all feel it, and it’s why we have so much fun.
Kolin and Eric lash up the new main t'gallant yardMike cross checks everything"On the capstain, heave around!" (that's Shawn there)The yard comes up. Me, Nadja, Kolin aloft to guide it Bosun Kolin, the first one ever to lay out on our brand new yard, finished up the foot rope stirrup lashing.5/3
Today, after unloading the cargo hold and organizing the contents on the dock, we broke for lunch. I went up and lay myself down on the fo’c’sle head deck, warm from the high-sunny day. The noon sun reflected off the harbor water, scattering wavelets of light on the yards. The whole rig glowed like it was alive, a weird, warm, electric energy. It seems like most days lately feel like this. The trainees are gathering. We have almost a full ship’s compliment now. Lots of new faces buzzing in the main salon.
Tonight we have a dockside barbecue with the Bluenose II crew, and the captain will be presenting them with them with fids adorned with Balinese carvings. It’s important for us to bond and share together. Both ships do very different things, but in our own unique ways we each bring great value and service to the tall ship community, and its place in the relevancy of the public consciousness – something that is in great flux today in the time of more modern commercial seafaring.
5/14
This might have been one of the most significant days in my time with the Picton Castle. In the wake of the tragedy in December, 2006 when one of Picton Castle’s crew was lost in a storm, the ship has been under extraordinary scrutiny, and making extensive improvements, all appropriate to any vessel in which a fatality is suffered, to ensure that the vessel is as safe as possible.
Today, in the climax of our efforts, we underwent three simultaneous and comprehensive safety inspections: one by the Canadian government, one by our flagship government, the Cook Islands and New Zealand, and one by a privately contracted safety inspector. At the end of the day, the representative of Transport Canada, a captain himself, said that, pending the successful execution of one more drill, he was very impressed by what he saw. It was obvious to him that the ship was in loving, skilled hands, and that he would be happy to report that he found zero deficiencies and wishes he could sail off as part of the ship’s company.
We are all proud of our ship, her Master, and proud members of her crew, and this is a very moving validation of all the hard work that’s been done, and the dedication of the Picton Castle family. It doesn’t fix what’s happened, but it affirms our constant work to improve, and the ship’s reputation as one the finest sailing vessels on the planet.
And that was just BEFORE lunch.
After lunch we continued on in form, bending on six of the thirteen sails we will be carrying for the crossing. The rig is nearly complete, and all the work we’ve been doing this winter is coming together. To be here, and be helping lead trainees in jobs like bending sail and sending up running rigging, and to be getting the jobs done is supremely rewarding. It is beyond exciting to see it all happen. I go to bed tonight a bit overwhelmed.
5/16
Finished. The rig is finished and ready. All sails bent on. New spanker boom and gaff on. And then?
Then the magic words from the Mate: “UP AND LOOSE!”
I shot up the main, Nadja up the fore, to the t’gallants, gaskets cast off, sails hanging, and down the mast loosing each sail, then to deck, hands to gear, sheet home, haul the halyards, ease the braces, the sails are set! All of them!
Mike, the 1st Mate, walked all the trainees out to the end of the dock to admire what they had just done. It felt just like Irving Johnson said in his famous film, Around Cape Horn. We got sails! All that canvas sewn together by our hands, and we put it up there with our own hands, and we set it all with our own hands! There’s not much else more satisfying as far as I’m concerned. It was cloud nine the whole time. It’s been a long, good winter, and this a fantastic layer of icing.
April 20, 2008
Donald Church: The Legend Returns
4/9
The crew is gathering, the weather is warming, and the ship is out of the water. As the scheduled date of departure approaches, our work days are carried out with increased buzz. The galley is being prepared for the arrival of star-cook, Donald, flying in from Grenada. Finn, the winter engineer, has been busy getting the engine room and all its systems into premier form and ready for the voyage engineer to take over.
We are hauled out in the local shipyard, and as soon as the yard crew has finished painting our hull we will be back in the water, preparing for the arrival of the trainees and up-rig, the great salty jig-saw puzzle.
The crew is gathering, the weather is warming, and the ship is out of the water. As the scheduled date of departure approaches, our work days are carried out with increased buzz. The galley is being prepared for the arrival of star-cook, Donald, flying in from Grenada. Finn, the winter engineer, has been busy getting the engine room and all its systems into premier form and ready for the voyage engineer to take over.
We are hauled out in the local shipyard, and as soon as the yard crew has finished painting our hull we will be back in the water, preparing for the arrival of the trainees and up-rig, the great salty jig-saw puzzle.
Kolin, Myself, Shackle on the ride to the shipyard
Shackle, Kolin, Mike, Myself and Nadja under the bow, the last night in yard.
All of us again, plus Amanda (front and center).
4/15
Donald is here and we are happy. For lunch: chicken wings, fries, and cheeseburgers. For dinner: ribs. It is good to have the chef back. Donald, chief morale officer.
All winter we’ve been taking turns each day preparing meals, and it hasn’t been bad, but there’s a reason we’re hired on as deckhands and not cooks. Shackle makes good burgers, and I will occasionally make fried chicken, but more often than not we serve up frozen pizza, or Hamburger Helper, or a box of carbohydrates and sodium courtesy of the culinary oracles at Kraft. It is good to have Donald back.
Donald is here and we are happy. For lunch: chicken wings, fries, and cheeseburgers. For dinner: ribs. It is good to have the chef back. Donald, chief morale officer.
All winter we’ve been taking turns each day preparing meals, and it hasn’t been bad, but there’s a reason we’re hired on as deckhands and not cooks. Shackle makes good burgers, and I will occasionally make fried chicken, but more often than not we serve up frozen pizza, or Hamburger Helper, or a box of carbohydrates and sodium courtesy of the culinary oracles at Kraft. It is good to have Donald back.
Donald
My whole body is sore. Our work week has had a growth spurt, and we now are working from 8 am to 6 pm at least, and on Saturdays too. It is good, though, because there is so much yet to be done, and time is becoming a keen adversary. We all want to get this ship ready in time for our May 17th departure for Ireland. Everyone is working hard. If there are any grumblers, they thankfully have the good sense to keep it to themselves.
Excitement builds on another front as well, as we all are planning a prom in honor of Finn, who had been studying hard for his GED, and wrote the test last month.
He knows the party is happening, but is in the dark as to just how big of a party it will be. Most of Lunenburg is involved. Epic would be an accurate word for the scale of the planned evening. Biblical might be a stretch, but I am withholding judgment until afterwards. We have all been raiding Frenchy’s consignment stores for formal wear. Should be fun.
Last month I went back Stateside to see about getting my AB Sail certification. I passed the exams and did everything they asked of me, and returned home to the Picton Castle with great satisfaction. Then yesterday I talked to an evaluator at the Coast Guard regional exam center in Boston and he told me I needed to get my Lifeboatman’s rating to complete the AB Sail, something I was twice told was unnecessary. I was furious. I still am, a bit, because I have neither time nor dime for the $900, five-day course and practicum required, and I spent nearly $1500 in travel and expenses to get the AB Sail, something I would not have pursued had I been told about the lifeboatman requirement in the first place. Furthermore, all the work and money spent will be for nothing, as the exam and all expires in a year. I obviously will not be back in the country within that time. I got screwed; I’m pissed.
It says something about the mess of the process when a sailor can come in, prove to be competent, pass all the exams, yet cannot seem to navigate the misinformed maze of paperwork and requisites. I have no problem jumping through hoops, but please don’t change the course after I’ve already crossed the finish line. How am I supposed to know what I need when the evaluators don’t even know?
(rant over)
On a positive note, the weather is unbelievable. The nights have been clear and crisp, forwards to warm sunny days with blue skies, with a fresh sea-breeze kicking in around 1400 or 1500 every day.
4/17
Shipyard work is done. We’ve overhauled the sea-cocks and through-hulls, the bottom has been coated with fresh anti-fouling paint, and we even dropped the anchors and flaked out all 800 feet of chain for some love and affection. Today they lowered us back into the wet stuff.
I would have loved to have been in the gear-house as the cradle was lowered by massive machinery. Giant links of chain, easing away our end, was payed out by unseen gear and motor. We couldn’t see the big wheels turning in the gear-house, but as each link inched out, it was accompanied with a round of timpani hammering, “ka-chunk a chunk a chunk.”
Then, with everything confirmed sound, the lines were cast off and the Picton Castle found herself once again in the familiar waters of Lunenburg Harbor.
Though we have had much work done, and the engineers have been busy, the main engine is still in the process of having the rings changed on each of its seven pistons, so we made way to and from the dock by tow. Coming into the cradle was a cinch. Conditions were perfect. Coming out was a bit trickier. A breeze had picked up out of the southeast, and was setting is onto shore at nearly two knots. We had bee planning on returning to the dock port side to, but the wind was uncooperative. Our Captain, salt of salts and smooth as Bing, told Mike, the 2nd Mate, to drop the port anchor. He did, the anchor bit, and the Picton Castle pirouetted gently against the dock, starboard side to. It wasn’t the original plan, but it was a perfect docking, and an excellent example of the level of seamanship all of us hope to attain.
We finished out the day with some overdue dockside work. As I was chipping rust off an anchor, Captain came by, took my chipping hammer, and, gripping it in both hands, attacked the rusty patch in rapid-fire assault. With the rust disintegrated, he handed the hammer back with the statement, “Go to it with violence, Ben.” Later, when I was sanding fair a freshly cut t’gallant yard, he took my sand paper, vigorously scoured the spar sending up a mushroom cloud of sawdust, and handed it back and said, “use compassionate aggression.”
At supper we were joined by Nobby, Picton Castle’s senior engineer emeritus and his wife and two children. Boy, age: three. Girl, age: baby.
Sitting around the salon table, eating the turkey dinner Donald had prepared for us, making faces at the baby and laughing at the boy’s stories and funny way of speaking, and genuinely enjoying each other’s company, I realized what a happy family we have here. We all are excited for this year. It is a good crew, and a pleasure to be a part of it. And it makes the long work days a hell of a lot more fun, too.
March 8, 2008
Dynamic Inertia
3/8
Newton's first law of motion says that an object at rest tends to stay at rest and an object in motion tends to stay in motion with the same speed and in the same direction unless acted upon by an unbalanced force. Well, we most definitely are in motion here in Lunenburg. Our dynamic inertia brings us full ahead into the unbalancing force of the imminent black-diamond slope of work as we speed to the final weeks before our departure.
We’ve been sending down braces and their gear from aloft for overhauling. The braces are what we use to adjust the angle of out squares’ls. When we want to brace hard to starboard, we cast off or ease away the port side braces, and haul away on the starboard braces, for example. It’s much more difficult to do all this underway, so it is one of our major rigging priorities. It’s also exciting to getting back into the rig, spending several hours a day out on the Picton Castle's yardarms.
Newton's first law of motion says that an object at rest tends to stay at rest and an object in motion tends to stay in motion with the same speed and in the same direction unless acted upon by an unbalanced force. Well, we most definitely are in motion here in Lunenburg. Our dynamic inertia brings us full ahead into the unbalancing force of the imminent black-diamond slope of work as we speed to the final weeks before our departure.
We’ve been sending down braces and their gear from aloft for overhauling. The braces are what we use to adjust the angle of out squares’ls. When we want to brace hard to starboard, we cast off or ease away the port side braces, and haul away on the starboard braces, for example. It’s much more difficult to do all this underway, so it is one of our major rigging priorities. It’s also exciting to getting back into the rig, spending several hours a day out on the Picton Castle's yardarms.
Plus, being aloft on the yards is a great workout. After the first couple days, every muscle in my body was sore. My legs get sore from supporting my body, my lower back and abs are sore from keeping balance, and acting as the fulcrum point whenever I have to haul anything up, which in turn works my shoulders and arms. I can feel myself getting back into square-rigger shape.
The weekends have been pretty epic here too. Last weekend we all headed to shipmate Amanda’s house on Briar Island, situated at the doorstep of the Bay of Fundy, famous for its 50-foot tides.
(photo from www.pbase.com/athiker95/image/438977)
Briar Island may be one of my new favorite places. Salty beauty as I have ever encountered, right on par with beloved Gloucester. Amanda’s big brother is a lobsterman, as is her father, and he took us out for a spin around the island in his boat, letting everyone take a turn at the wheel as we circumnavigated the island's ragged basalt shoreline. Pictured here are my friends and former shipmates, Rebecca and Logan.
After that, Finn, Maggie and I headed back to Lunenburg to stand watches at the ship with Lynsey, as a nasty storm was blowing in. Unfortunately, our weekend gained a new adventurous flavor while passing through the backways in Nova Scotian blizzard, Maggie’s car spun off the road and settled in a snow banked ditch. The car and her crew were fine. It was cold, and the snow was coming in horizontally. While we waited for the tow truck, we found shelter in an abandoned hunting cabin a 50 or so yards off the road. The truck pulled us out and we turned back for Digby, the nearest town. It turned out to be no big deal, but at the time it was pretty intense feeling stranded in a snow covered back woods highway, 60 km from anywhere.
Life looks to continue its upward swing in momentum here, as Chad, my buddy of buddies, is headed here for a proper Picton Castle/Nova Scotia weekend, a road trip to Boston, and then I am flying back to Kansas City for the next weekend and my brother Brian’s 16th birthday. Then, back to it, getting ready for the trip, an Atlantic crossing, tour of Europe, duck into the Mediterranean, down Africa, across to Brazil, up through the Caribbean, and back here. Then, maybe, things will slow down…
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