“You know
what a ship is don’t you? It’s not just a mast and a hull and some sails, that’s what a ship *needs* what a ship is, what a ship really is…is freedom” – Pirates of the Caribbean
If there is a tall ship within a mile of where my dear floating hotel is docked, I will find it. This is a standing tradition, and a standing joke, ever since my not making it past the end of the dock in San Jose during the Grand Voyage. But in this case, I knew it was there, and I’d planned for it – not as well as I’d hoped (I should have pre-booked so I could have had the mast climb that I wanted), but planned for it none the less.
When’s your next sail?
We have one spot left on the 1:45
I’ll take it
There was no real question whether or not I would take it. Whether or not I got to spend time in the rigging, I needed today. It’s been an emotional rollercoaster of a week, and while most of the developments have been good, that’s doesn’t mean that they haven’t been challenging. The long and the short of it being, I needed a ship, a real ship, that smelled of tar and wood and spoke with the voice of the wind in the rigging. I needed to be able to lean on the gunnels and watch the wake drift by under us as we made our way out of the harbor. I needed the salt. I needed the fresh air.
I needed to remember…
It doesn’t matter that I work and live on the water, my floating home doesn’t put me in true contact with my element. We co-exist it’s true, but there’s no real sense of harmony there. A cruise ship is more a floating hotel than it is a true ship (er, don’t tell the flagship I said that), as beautiful as she is, there’s no sense of freedom there, no sense of personality.
The crew moves as a unit on a tall ship, much more so than we do on our bigger more modern ‘ladies’. In the world of wood and rigging, there is no PA system, there isn’t even a megaphone. One crew member calls out the orders, the others echo them to ensure they’ve heard correctly, and then race quietly to their business, bare feet slapping on the hot wood of the deck, soles long since calloused over so that shoes aren’t really necessary anymore, scrambling up into the rigging held in place by a harness that looks all to slender when you think of the fact that your very life depends on it as you cling hand and foot to the spars. The ship and the crew work as one, they treat her with respect, she returns the favour.
It’s been nearly four years since I last felt a line in my hands, and even then I can hardly say I had any experience – one volunteer on one sunset sail does not a sailor make, but I’d forgotten how good it felt to actually put your back into something like that. They only ask for six passenger volunteers to help set the sail on a harbour trip like this, and those six do so under the careful eye of the trained crew. I was the first to put up my hand.
I can haul…actually..
Yeah, don’t worry, I’ve got you on a line…here
And I listen as she gives the instructions, and I remember vaguely what one of the sailors I struck up a conversation with on the Lady Washington back during the Festival in 2008 told me. Remember to put your weight against the line, and when you think you’ve given it your all, give it more. Always sweat your line before you tie it off. So I do. And the crew member who was supervising us works with the fellow next to me first, asking him to hold the pressure on his lie while she ties it off. Then she comes to me, just as I actually do sweat the line (FYI: “sweat” the line means to pull it that last inch when you think it can’t give anymore, once you’ve given that final pull, the last thing you want to do is let release any of the pressure, because all your hard work will be undone, in the case of the passenger next to me, that last step had to be done for him…I just somehow remembered to do it, no actual idea why or how). Anyway I carefully adjust my hand-hold on the line so that she’ll be able to get to the pin beneath it.
I know you’ll want to belay that…she’s not going to give anymore…
And the girl looks at me and says
No, I’ll take the pressure…do you know how to belay?
It’s been a long time, and I’ve only done it once, don’t think I remember
Yes you do, start on the bottom, figure eight to the top
It took me twice to get it right, but eventually my fingers remembered the pattern
Is it twice round or three?
Three
This marks the beginning of the third such discussion I have had with a Tall Ship crew.
One day, I’ll have the time and the money at the same time…
You need to do it you know.
Yeah, I know.
So do. Take a vacation. Take a month off, do a volunteer sail, you’ll learn it fast.
The last crew member I talked to on the Washington said I would end up here sooner or later. You can tell – she said – who has a little blood in their salt water
I like that
The ship herself was having engine trouble, since she still retains the same engine from when she was a trader vessel in the fifties making it difficult to find parts. While she is fully capable of operating under full sail power, regulations prevent her from doing so in the harbour so she has to be able to run under mechanical drive. This basically meant we couldn’t go as far out as they had originally planned, but it was still a lovely day, and it was bright bright sunshine (and I forgot my sunscreen…me, fair-skinned almost-redhead…I’m going to be grateful for the aloe vera in my cabin soon I suspect), which made for an almost perfect day. When we docked just outside of Circular Quay, amongst a flurry of wedding pictures being taken (which seems to be quite common for that particular stretch of harbour, there were no less than 7 weddings going on), the same crew member stopped me on the way to the gangway..
See you soon
She said.
Once again, I wonder if the universe is trying to tell me something…