One thing I noticed about these tales was a grammatical device that I didn”t quite understand.  Some characters in these books would be referred to as Henri N- or other such name where the last name was simply its first initial with a dash.  My English teacher stated they were a device used to provide anonymity.  This caused some additional confusion seeing as they were fictional tales, nonetheless the device for some reason rooted itslef in the confines of my memory.

Fast forward to today and this blog, I’ve been using that device in my blog.  But in reflecting over the past years worth of text, I’ve come to realize that I exist in a close knit culture and those dashes do not amount to much.  I resurrected the Euterpe Times at the museum in perfect acknowledgment of this isolated culture that exists on a ship.  One half of me, as it turns, was in great conflict with the other, specifially in what I say on the blog.

Weeding through my texts I found myself sometimes critical of other crew, at other times simply exhibiting private matters, and in others reproducing occassion that should have simply been kept off the record.  With a close crew, those dashes don’t mean anything.

It dawned on me that I might actually be alienating my friends.  I have certainly never intended to paint anything nor anyone in a negative light, in fact its just the opposite.  Not only do I consider them friends, I looked up to them immensely and that’s what I wanted to document.

Very few have ever mentioned the blog to me, so I never considered its affect on others.  But it probably has.

My only regret in this is that no one has ever said anything if it is so.  I take criticism well and vaule these friendship above anything else.

So now is time to hove to and reevaluate things.  I plan to continue this blog, but it will certainly be filled more with “that guy” and “this guy.”

Or perhaps as should be, the more suitable nom de plume, Jack Tar.

Read more: http://www.canada.com/news/Elite+school+disagrees+with+report+into+sinking+tall+ship/5485809/story.html#ixzz1Za5Bywwy

OpSail Names First Seven Tall Ships for its 2012 Sailing | Cruising World.

Transportation Safety Board of Canada | Featured Investigation – Marine – 2010 – M10F0003.

~ Andrew Fursureth, 1900

FIND YOUR LOCKER

It had been a long time since I had been to the royal on any ship.  I stood on the port side footrope after having stepped over the yard from starboard.  That starboard footrope was a good three feet above the last good ratline (or very short sheerpole as the case may be) for my foot.  It meant a tall step and in the first time since I can remember, I clipped into the jackstay before making the transition.  Once sure-footed on the jackstay, the step over and remaining transitions were no sweat.

We waisted no time laying to the fore royal.

It was “find your locker day” at the MMSD,  slang phrase for the first day of sail training for the annual sail, which celebrates the Star of India’s launch birthday.  This year, for the first time in several, the Star of India will back upon the Pacific Ocean.  “Find your locker” implies that this first day of training will be more or less getting acquainted with fellow mastmates, captains, lines &c &c.  Serious training is not to be expected this first go around.

Earlier we were treated to a video on synthetic line snapback owning that the Star of India is towed from her berth up the channel towards the Pacific.  Although dated, the film was informative.

Aboard Berkeley, the crew awaits the start of Synthetic Line Snapback.

I have been assigned to the foremast.  In part, a lot of the work I have done on the jib-boom and personal petitioning got me there.  Personally, I have never considered the foremast as a place of recognition or preference, its just that that is where I have done most of my volunteer maintenance hours over the past year or so, so that is where I wanted to be.

Throughout the morning, the words of Jim D- continued to echo through my head.  A few weeks back during the evening reception after the Parade of Sail for the Festival of Sail at the MMSD, Jim laid out very specific criticisms and expectations of me.  I do not disagree with them in the slightest, in fact they encourage me in a new direction, a distant light that is not as yet defined or known.

Today, we were short of our crew.  Apparently, the foremast is a place of some recognition and notoriety as several of the crew are from out-of-town, but have been such fixtures on the Star, her rigging, and culture that they have that place to their right.  One, I was excited to note was Jamie W-, current director of the Texas Seaport Museum, former rigger of just about every surviving historical square-rigged ship out there.  Although through email and facebook, I’ve talked with Jamie on numerous occasions, the chance to finally meet, talk, climb and furl with him has motivated me more so.

Susan B-, out aloft captain, and a new crewman whose name I don't know yet, put the starboard side of the royal into its gear.

Prior to laying aloft, with only five topmen available, Paul D-, our foremast captain concluded that working the royal would be the best place to get our hands dirty.  That also included getting the pinrails shipshape, the coils evenly hung as things have gotten somewhat sloppy over time.  Coiling also allowed the second step past the pinrail map to learning the lines.  For the most part, the rules of thumb make things easier to find than others.  The farther aft one goes, the higher on the mast the lines work.  The upper topsail halyard on port means that the t’gallant halyard will be roughly in the same location on starboard, the royal back over on port, aft of the upper top.

The royal isn’t the hardest sail to put into its gear.  Before furling, Susan B-, our aloft captain laid back down to the deck for some reason unknown to me.  This gave us about 15 minutes to look aft and review a conversation we had on deck regarding how all the squares, except the royals were furled on the Star of India.  Scott B-, former mast captain and aloft captain, who in the words of Paul D, has forgotten more of the rigging on the fore than he even knows, pointed out some issues (or mistakes depending on how you look at it) the “waisters” were making on the main upper top.

The waisters on the main upper tops'l.

The remaining squares get furled outboard to inboard, something contrary to those of us more experienced with Surprise, Californian or the Star’s royals.  This first step is a critical one, a section of the leech being pulled onto the yard then furled.  This first initial furl is what Scott stressed in that if done improperly, “teacups” form at the earring.  And sure enough as he was pointing out, the “waisters” were doing just that.  I cannot profess to be an expert on it, I did recognize what he was pointing out but I am sure my first time hands-on, I will make the same mistakes.

CALL ME “SCUPPERS”

Idle time aloft gives one time to take in the view, review your surroundings and for me, reflect.  The weekend before I was in Dana Point with the Californian for the Toshiba Tall Ships Festival.  The Saturday after the Parade of Sail, I wound up sleeping in much to the surprise of my shipmates.  It surprised me just as well that they had let me.

At Dana Point, the mooring structure was a more intimate affair.

The Dana Point Festival is much more intimate when it comes to how the vessels are moored.  Two groups of four vessels moored bulwark to bulwark.  I spent my 1200 to 1400 watch helping visitors step from the Exy Johnson onto Californian.  Dana Point Harbor has an odd an active tidal surge to it, the boats and their companionway alignments were constantly changing.  I chuckled after my shift at the number of “pirates” that were frightened somewhat of that ever-changing stepover, both men and women.

The gun battles as well were planned out differently than at San Diego, where pairs went out at a time and slugged it out on the bay.  Here, at four o’clock, all the ships save Pilgrim, put their sails in their gear made for the ocean, priming their guns for a few hours of sulfur filled amusement.

Amazing Grace comes within range.

Much to my dismay, I was put on the braces.  I have started sailing more in the hopes of getting more experience on the headrig, manning the braces, especially on the Californian, while important, is considered a menial position somewhat.

Irving Johnson overtakes the Amazing Grace.

Swapping sulfur with Bill of Rights

Still, one can’t deny even with the lack of a good breeze, gunfire isn’t exciting.

American Pride gets a handshake from a six-pound gun.

Spirit of Dana Point

That evening a crew reception was held aboard the Pilgrim along with a potluck dinner.  Sea shanties crested across the full deck and after a few beers, the moment I recognized one that I knew, my mood changed and I joined in.

Shanties aboard Pilgrim.

As the dinner broke up, the festive nature simply moved over to the American Pride, which one could nickname the “party boat” of this group.  They are certainly generous on a repeated basis, both with food, conversation and a concoction simply titled “rum punch.”

With the rum punch I decided to take a left turn at common sense, as Paul D- departed I mentioned that I wouldn’t be too far behind.  The remainder of the Californian crew had headed back to the schooner on the early side.

“No you won’t,” said the rum fervently.  And the rum was right, the next thing I knew we were aboard the Exy Johnson switching over to Jameson’s if I recall properly.  I would also learn that we were keeping up my own shipmates.

Eventually, I had the clear enough of a mind to ask for a cup of coffee.  But that cup of coffee changed things dramatically, or perhaps it was simply too late.  Heaving over the side of the vessels, well mostly, I was done with dinner.

“Brad, you need to pull yourself together and get cleaned up.” I heard Paul at some point early the next morning.  I opened my eyes to find myself in the scuppers of Exy with a pillow and blanket of all things.  Exy doesn’t have a true waterway or scuppers as one imagines them on Star of India, but a later comment by Bob R- made me like the description.

Luckily, after cleaning up myself, the charitable bedding, and joining in on the Californian’s morning washdown, the day was for the most part free to me until the gun battles.  I was not assigned any watches during the fest portion thankfully.  Recovery time, although except for a bit of a fog, I wasn’t feeling all that badly, just embarrassed.

It did finally give me the opportunity to find a wi-fi location which I found down at Beach Cities pizzeria.  I got a little work done but returned after a couple of hour to nap in the fo’c’sle.

A better breeze had struck up this Sunday for the gun battles.  Better yet, I was assigned the inner jib sheet.  I had managed the sheet before but it had been awhile and learning as much of the head gear as possible was one of my goals with each sail.

The inner jib also provides some interaction with the stays’l, which has more of a science to it than the other heads’ls.  Malcolm S- provided a lot of insight, but at the day’s end I’m still scratching my head slightly.  The stays’l is trimmed more with the preventer than simply the sheets.  However, as inner jib sheet, I eased the lazy side sheet so the preventer could then be appropriately hauled on the weather side.  Some hands-on experience with the stays’l will probably clear up some of my confusion.

The gun battle itself was more action filled than the previous day.  For some reason, however, the last remnants of my drunken fog caused me not to have the enthusiasm not to pull out my camera.  As well, I was discussing the heads’ls with Malcolm through most of the trip.

Heading back in, aloft on the tops’l the American Pride had dropped off her passengers and was already heading home, passing us to port and giving three hearty cheers as their bare crew could enable.  With us still with a full load of passengers a resounding return echoed from Californian’s deck.

The fest was now officially over.  We were heading out bright and early Monday morning.  Crew that had driven up departed and we headed to Beach Cities for dinner.  As many time as I had been to Beach Cities with the crew of Pilgrim last year, I had never actually had any of their pizza.  It turned out to be the best pizza I have had in a very long time.

ARE WE THERE YET?

The moon sets early Monday morning as we head home.

Even the Exy and Irving Johnsons had hit the hay early.  Bill of Rights was all quiet and the morning came quickly.  Amazing Grace, moored outboard of us departed just ahead and we kept them in sight for most of the day.

As the moon set, the sun rose.

Along the way, a decent breeze came off the ocean and we set all fore-and-afts, eventually killing the engine and sailed most of the way home.  There does come however, that point when home is in view and the urge to kill the sails and motor in high-gear the rest of the way kicks in.

With sails set and the watch started, a quiet deck greets the sun.

Furling the heads’ls underway was a new experience.  There’s a simple exhilaration to it.  However, I also discovered I finally understood just how to furl these godforsaken things.  The “burrito” concept to the furl has always escaped me, but it seems my hands had finally figured it out.  I can’t describe how to furl a heads’l, my intellect in some way still doesn’t get it quite properly.  My hands seem to know and along with a few other crew to help, the job got done.

Malcolm S- furls the stays'l.

Eventually, we rounded the point, motored on into home and my mind was already racing past some down time to the next chance I could find to get back to sea. Once home, I looked up Californian’s schedule for my next available Saturday.  September 24 looked promising but Californian was going to be sitting idle at the Chula Vista Harbor Days.  The thought struck back to me of an open invitation to continue crewing the Bill of Rights.  A quick email answered and I’m heading back to Oxnard for a day.  A hefty drive which will probably involve sleeping aboard the prior night, but there’s a lot more to this opportunity than just sailing and learning a head rig.

Point Loma, then hang a left into the channel to home.

'Nuff said.

Waking myself back from thought on the royal, I was doing my own rough job on the snake fold right at the buntline.  Although not terrible, once on deck, it was apparent and gave us an opportunity to review, critique and evaluate what best to do next time around.  I can critique the waisters job on the upper top, but have to remind myself that I have my own issues and learning to do.

Evaluating our furl on the royal. On starboard, the earring is a little messy, while on starboard, my take on the s-fold left a bit of a dead body.

Bert C-, assigned to the mainmast made similar comments regarding the mainmast once they had returned to the deck.  We are all currently learning some old things in a new way.  Some of us are remembering it, shaking off the rust.

Although I sailed and crewed the Star of India back in 2006, it was the year the USCG had yanked Surprise’s COI only weeks before the sail.  I was included onto the Star’s crew for one day, assigned the mizzen, but did nothing more than tail on lines.  I had not trained for her and I was still new enough to the entire program that I had virtually no clue as to what was going on.  This go around, I’m an earned part of this sail.

8 September 2011

The Night the Lights Went Out in San Diego

As the washing machine switched from rinse to spin, the heavy change echo as it switched gears was answered by a stifled silence of the entire household.  My internet connection suddenly crashed and as it turned out, the rest of San Diego County came to a screeching halt.  Dammit, I thought to myself.  Of all the times for a brown out.  I was to meet Malcolm S- in just a few short hours to head over to the museum and Californian.  We were transiting to Dana Point for this weekend’s festival.

Squeezing as much water as I could out of the clothes that I was planning to pack, I draped them over every possible surface I could find in the backyard in order to dry.  After a few hours, my last remaining pair of work jeans were being stubborn.

The brown out was revealing itself to be a far more major event than everyone at first imagined.  Bringing up my truck, what radio stations were available were in emergency broadcast mode, the blackout ranged from Orange County as far south as Ensenada, Mexico.  Initial reports were the blackout could last as long as into the next evening.  Although there was nothing I could do, I turned my attention to the girls.  The could be rolling with the punches or on the other side, worried and scared.

It took awhile to get a hold of them, but they seemed ok, but without air conditioning, Jen was planning to take them to her sister’s house in Temecula, which apparently had avoided the blackout.

On my drive towards Malcolm’s, lines formed at any convenience store that was able to provide business.  With the heat and the promise of more tomorrow, water and ice were instantly big commodities.  A short stop at Malcolm’s we were at the museum as the last light of day departed.  It was refreshingly cool on the waterfront.

Irving Johnson surprisingly had not departed yet, although they had earlier mentioned a 1600 departure time.  A victim of the blackout, their skipper was stuck in the commuting back-up on the coaster train service.

By 2200, the Irving Johnson was off, and we were waiting for John M-, Paul D- and Jim E- to depart.  As 2330 rolled by and we readied for departure, the San Diego skyline lit up and shouts of joy were heard from the street.

For the transit, I was put on second watch with Paul F- and Malcolm.  Eight to twelve both am and pm meant that after setting sail, I’d actually get a decent night’s rest.  Or so I thought.

We set all three lowers, meaning the main, fore and stays’l.  This was my first overnight, out-of-area sail on Californian so I anticipated a lot of new things to be sure.

Having sailed Californian only in a passenger day sail context, the thought of a crew of eight handling the fore and main concerned me only in that I expected it to be a hard haul and long in time.

The fact that with such a small crew the task was actually easier than I had ever experienced with a boat full of passengers laying their hands on the halyards filled me with wonder.  Certainly, small things were done a bit differently.  Once the peaks were at a satisfactory height, they were stoppered off with those hands moving opposite to help finish off the throats last few feet.

As we exited the channel past Point Loma, the swells were immediate and frequent.  A good night’s rest never materialized, the rcking and pitching was just too interruptive.  By morning, I had only managed perhaps about four hours.

In the fo’c’sle, through the late and early hours of Friday, the heavy swells could be heard washing over the deck.  There was room in the main cabin area of Californian to bed down with my mates, but as with the Bill of Rights I felt my place forward.  Officially “A” compartment on the Bill, the fo’c’sle feels like the home that I belong to.

But if you live in the forecastle, you are “as independent as a wood-sawyer’s clerk,” (nautice’,) and are a sailor. You hear sailor’s talk, learn their ways, their peculiarities of feeling as well as speaking and acting; and moreover pick up a great deal of curious and useful information in seamanship, ship’s customs, foreign countries, etc., from their long yarns and equally long disputes. No man can be a sailor, or know what sailors are, unless he has lived in the forecastle  with them–turned in and out with them, eaten of their dish and drank of their cup.

~ Richard Henry Dana, Jr., Two Years Before the Mast

At eight bells, I began my first watch of a calming sea.  The farther north we continued, the swells flattened but not completely.

The foredeck awash from heavy swells.

Dolphins bow riding in Californian's wake.

We arrived in Dana Point long enough to step again on land, breathe a sigh of relief and stretch our legs.  The window was short until passengers were expected to be boarding for the afternoon’s parade.  Additional crew that made the drive north joined us as well.

Dana Point appears through the typical marine layer of the southern west coast.

I Love a Parade

Unlike The parade at San Diego, the route at Dana Point is a bit different as the harbor is not a large one.  This time around it was Pilgrim and the Spirit of Dana Point’s party, taking the lead off shore.

Irving Johnson

American Pride

Californian was next to last in line.  As with the previous week, the hulls were all of a familiar note, Pilgrim and Spirit as already noted, Irving and Exy Johnson, Curlew, Amazing Grace and Bill of Rights.

Pilgrim

All the boats were manned with some sort of gun, from a humble signal gun (which still produces a considerable bang) to Californian’s six pounders.  The ships of this line proceeded east along the shoreline and cliffs of the point proper.

Bill of Rights

As the breakwater juts out from the point south, it creates a turning point for the parade.  Located at this corner the Ocean Institute provided the target for each vessel’s salute.

Clearing skies emerged as the Parade began in earnest.

With each crack of a gun, a brief moment of breath brought the report back from the cliff.  It was impressive as the revenue cutter waited for its turn.  All four six pounders waited on the port side, primed and ready for action.

Four six-pounders, a rolling broadside against the cliffs of Dana Point echoed each in turn as one continuous roar, alternating between gun and echo.  The collective gasp could be heard from the passengers, shore and other vessels.

We furled sail motoring back up the channel.  The remainder of the evening was spent with dinner and visiting among the other boats.  After meeting a number of people from the ships the previous week, it was great to follow-up on some developing friendships.

Unlike San Diego, the layout created a more intimate atmosphere among ships, moored to two sets of four.  Crossing someone else’s deck to get to your own fo’c’sle was inevitable.

Tomorrow, the fest would kick into gear.  I had one watch duty between 1200 and 1400, an odd interruption to the day as it was becoming apparent that internet access was not to be had in the area of the OI.  Walking would be a large part of that quest.  I still had remaining work to be done via the internet for the MMSD.

Still, tomorrow will come and interesting it will be no doubt.