Catching Up: The Bundaberg Trip, Part II

We had one glorious afternoon off in Bundaberg after the photo shoot and the three of us girls high-tailed it to the marina showers. The salt, sweat and grime (and fishoil in my case, as the first mate had me oiling the standing rigging during not-the-smoothest-day-out and I quite successfully oiled myself as well) of ten days’ sailing having been washed away, we felt like new people indeed. We were so stoked that we took a picture so we could remember in times to come what it was like to be clean. 

Now back to the vinyl sticker problem… We took an early start to our next publicity stop, Brisbane, and arrived a few days before we were due, which gave us a little time to figure out just what we were going to do about those sails. There was an interesting storm that was passing through as we neared the port, and we anchored in a pretty cool spot off of Morton Island, Tangalooma, a sanctuary with long white beaches and bright green vegetation. The next morning was tempting for a swim in the turquoise water, but by that time an executive decision had been made that we would hand paint the sails. Circumstances were dire and now the distilling company was threatening to sue us because we had sent the "wrong" ship... So we had to use any means necessary to make this tasting an unreal experience. 

While I scrambled up to the t'gallant with another crew to strike the sail and lower it to the deck, the second mate and bosun did some paint tests on a scrap canvas. Our black oil-based paint bled through the canvas, so we would have to use primer underneath it. The captain made a call to the marina we were to dock at and asked about a warehouse or grassy area we could lay some sails out...

A few hours later, up the river and safely tucked into Rivergate Marina, we had a tracing party of four working on the t'gallant and replacing some missing letters while the rest of the crew struck the course and dragged that out onto a well-trimmed lawn just above our dock. After the tracing, the priming began, and then the black as the primer dried. We had four days to finish all 5 of the branded sails, which included the outer jib and the mainsail (these were branded on both sides), so our days began at 6am and finished when the sun went down. Mr first mate made himself head of the painting team (which was the entire crew excepting the cook at certain times of the day) because he had been trained at a prestigious art school where, he informed one of our hands who was herself a professional impressionist painter, they taught "real, proper drawing and art, not all the fartsy common feel-as-you-paint-it impressionism crap." So that was fun.

Miraculously at the end of the four days, we had all the sails finished and bent back on except for the mainsail. But we wouldn't be hoisting it anyway, so we had one side finished that we decided to hang off the boom and that was good enough for now. The evening before the big tasting event was to take place, the rep for the marketing company came down to discuss the photo shoot with the captain. She nearly gasped when she was informed it would possibly take more than ten minutes to take the ship off the dock, set the sails, turn around and come back in. Our skipper gently noted, "well, this ship weighs 300 tons, she has an old engine, and the tide will be moving through the river tomorrow, so she's not the easiest thing to just pull in and out." However, that had no effect and she seemed to leave with the impression we must be a bunch of mad idiots. That was only the start of the rudeness shown us by the marketers, but I digress. 

The next morning was clear and bright with only a few clouds in the distance as we unfurled all the sails and cleaned up the ship to the last detail; we were sure this photo shoot and tasting were going to be flawless. The photo shoot went off without a hitch and those guys seemed quite happy with it. Then we waited for the tasting which was to start at two. It was about noon when the distant clouds rolled closer and became darker and more ominous, and then it started to rain... Thunder rolled and lightning struck an made it's way closer, and about then we were informed that the tasting had been moved to a secondary venue due to the weather. As we slogged up the ratlines to furl the sails, the second mate called down to me, "they say getting struck by lightning isn't a problem, so long as you're not near anything wet or high!" 

Hopping further down the coast, we continued to paint the backside of the mainsail underway. There were a few rainy days, so geniuses that we were, we dragged the sail into the lower saloon but unfortunately the single fan we had was no match for the fumes and we had some very entertaining afternoons... The Newcastle tasting was cancelled as well, so we continued down and near the last week of November we pulled into Broken Bay, which is just a half-day's sail North of Sydney. The next morning we were due for our epic entrance to Sydney Harbour (technically Port Jackson) at dawn under full sail, to be photographed by a helicopter. But we had just the one day at Pitt Water to enjoy ourselves and catch our breath. 

It was a Thursday, and we calculated that since it was the third one of the month, it should be Thanksgiving. It wasn't, incidentally, but we enjoyed an Aussie sort of thanksgiving with a big dinner and a birthday cake for one of the kids. It was a good day. We weighed anchor at midnight and booked it down the coast for the grand entrance.

I was lying in my bunk, listening to the rain on the deck above me and the rushing of the wind in the rigging and dreading the thought of getting up, when the silhouette of the second mate leaned into the doorway. "Good morning, it's wet, cold, miserable and it's time to get to work." I jumped into my bibs and foul weather jacket and slogged out onto the deck. It certainly was wet, cold and miserable. The safety lines were set up in the midships, and in the predawn mid-blackness I could make out the captain and the mates at the helm. We rolled heavily in the beam seas, and a slosh of green water swept across my bare feet, not the warmest, but also not the coldest I've felt. I didn't want to be awake. I was contemplating my warm dry bunk when the second mate came stomping forward. "You ready to unfurl the t'gallant?" I always got the t'gallant, no matter what. I guessed it had to do with being the youngest deck crew, but I usually didn't mind the climb to the highest sail. However, it was dark and we were rolling; this was going to be an effort.

I clamped my hands onto the shrouds and started the climb as the ship swung away from me and I became more horizontal. The roll slowed down, I wrapped my arms where I was and the ship rolled towards me until I was hanging over the ocean. Then we started back the other way, and I climbed a few more feet, and so it was the whole 90 feet up over the futtocks and finally onto the t'gallant yard. The yard was worse because I swung to the left and felt like rolling off the end of the yard, my feet at a sharp angle to the footropes, and then I swung to the right and felt like slamming into the mast. Anyhow I scrambled out to the end, took the sheet off the yard and worked toward the center unfurling the gaskets. The second mate nipped out on the starboard side and did the same thing, and it was very nice having another person up there to make you feel more sane. As we finished the sky was turning purply and the rain lightened a bit; it really was quite beautiful out. 

The only issue was the overcast-ness, and indeed as we came through the heads at the appointed time we failed to sight any helicopter. We were also informed that Southern Swan would be hosting the grand exhibition at the Sydney wharf (because, you know, they had wanted the black ship this whole time), and so we would be relinquishing the bottle of rum and instead taking the five daysails that Swan was scheduled for. It felt like a kick in the gut, but that's life sometimes. In contrast, despite the craziness and all the goings-on, it had been a voyage of a lifetime. Some of the worst times, the funniest and certainly some of the best too, had all been part of the unique experience. Ironically, the mainsail we had painted turned out to be the new $30,000 main (the skipper owner was NOT happy, and it's still a mystery how we should attempt to remove the paint...). The helicopter did show when we were inside the harbour, and for all their troubles, there is the picture below that made the newspaper. Unfortunately you can't see our handpainted sails, but you will see those in the next picture, which is one that I took.

I have concluded that everything that the trip was about, promoting the rum company via the press, turned out to be pretty disappointing, especially after all that work. The marketing company were real jerks, and from a superficial (and possibly financial) perspective, the whole voyage was a waste of time. But on the inside it was a success. We had a great crew that came together as a strong team and did almost the impossible, we had two great captains that led us through the insanity and I came away with some great friends and a wealth of knowledge and experience. Thus must end the tale of the Bundaberg Voyage.

         

Catching Up: The Bundaberg Trip, Part 1

Where do I begin recounting the past three and a half months of my life?... It’s been one crazy ride after another on this ship in more ways than one. I gained the most I’ve ever gained, and also lost the most I’ve ever lost, was the happiest I’ve ever been, and nearly the saddest I’ve ever been, stood up as the best person I’ve ever represented, and also fell as the worst person I’ve ever known. There were the most grueling days of work, but also the most beautiful days of easy sailing. I dealt with some of the most frustrating people I have ever met, and spent time with amazing people I will never forget. These experiences have taken more effort than I’ve ever spent in one place, and been more rewarding than anything else and more disappointing than anything else. But most importantly it has changed me and opened my eyes to more possibilities than I ever imagined.

The whole trip to Bundaberg was just ridiculous from the start. “Bizarre” is the term Mark latched onto at one point, and it describes the entire trip perfectly. From start to finish, there was not a twist or turn that was expected or simple.

I showed up in Sydney and was thrown into the midst of a quicky-refit on Southern Swan. Painting, scraping, retensioning the rig, repairing the foremast, fixing the fire pump, mousing shackles and seizing footropes, painting liferings… Close to our scheduled departure date, I was helping Joe stuff some caulking into the hull and realized the full magnitude of what we were trying to achieve. Swan had not been to sea in a least ten years; she had passed her last survey for the harbour when out of the water for a few days - that was when one of the shipwrites had accidentally poked a chisel straight through the hull… And she was to sail about 900nm up the coast to Bundaberg, Queensland and back. Luckily she had to be surveyed for coastal waters before we could leave.

On our scheduled departure date the surveyor came aboard, and was surprisingly happy with the entire ship and crew and pronounced himself quite satisfied with granting us the papers, somebody at maritime just had to produce a signature which should have been in the next 3 days. So we said our goodbyes at White Bay and headed over to Little Manly cove. For the next couple days we finished bending on the sails, stowing the provisions, going through P’s laborious SMS manual – after eight hours one day we weren’t halfway through – and preparing the ship in general for departure. Still no paper from Maritime, and as the window for making it to Bundaberg in time was closing, one afternoon Mike decided that since the person he spoke to agreed that Søren would do instead of Swan, we would swap with the Søren Larsen.

Now that would seem a simple enough solution at first, but then you have to factor in that the Søren was in the middle of a full daysail schedule, and wouldn’t be returning to White Bay until 2300. No matter, this is Sydney Harbour Tall Ships, and they achieve the impossible regardless of the cost. Twelve crew aboard Swan, about fifteen aboard Søren, their belongings, ships provisions, equipment all had to be swapped at 2300. That was crazy. One young man who had joined that very day quit, and morale was not the highest as we passed everything from raw sugar to marlinspikes back and forth between the ships. At about 0330 the swap was complete and we steamed Søren to pumpout and topped off the fuel. As we left for the open ocean it was decided we should break into watches, so Al and I struggled to prop our eyelids open and Nikki kept us company on the bow until 0800. We were on our way.

I suppose I should mention why we were sailing to Bundaberg. Dan somehow landed us a gig with Bundaberg Distillery Co. as a promotion for their upcoming 125^th anniversary. The gig sounded easy; arrive in Bundaberg on the 7^th of November for a photo shoot with branded sails, pick up 4 empty rum barrels and sail back down the coast, stopping in Brisbane and Newcastle for tastings and photos and making a dramatic entrance back through the Sydney heads at dawn on the 22^nd of November. In return the rum company would pay for a new set of sails for the ship, so it was a good deal for the ship. Bundaberg originally chose the Swan for the task because a) she is black, b) she apparently looks like a rum or pirate ship, and c) she is black.

There was also the matter of the branded sails. It had taken 3weeks to get Swan’s brandings; the designs were simply screenprinted onto some stretchy material that was then sewn on top of the sails. But now we were taking Søren, so we left her second, older set of sails at White Bay and sailed with the new set up the coast. Dan would in the meantime work on getting the old set branded and drive them up to Bundaberg for us. That in itself was another crazy adventure, but more on that end later.

The trip up the coast was an experience like no other, it was a bit of a slog to begin with as well. The engine on Søren is an ancient 4-cylinder, 2-stroke diesel beast that spews oil from the exhaust as she chugs upwind in heavy weather. Jon our new engineer had been recruited for the trip because of his extensive knowledge of the Caterpillar engine that Swan had, but now we were on Søren and that posed new difficulties. However, Jon stepped up to the plate and spent hours upon hours learning the ins and outs of the beast and keeping her running.

Adjusting to watches can take a bit of time as well, and the first week out was a bit rough as the crew struggled with sleep deprivation and seasickness. Certain personalities can get wearing as you become more sleep deprived as well, and from the start there were some combinations that were just brewing trouble. Nothing too dramatic happened on the way up, but I will just say the officer of my watch was not my favourite person aboard. From receiving a ten minute lecture on how to properly clean a butter dish after dinner to getting woken up two hours after getting off watch by raw, grey, chopped flying fish in my face, by the time we reached Bundaberg I was a bit short-tempered towards him.

We wouldn’t have made it to Bundaberg in time either, if it weren’t for a nice southerly that helped us out a few days after leaving Sydney. It was the most impressive weather front I’ve seen yet. We were motoring with a few limp sails into 10 knots from the Northwest; looking behind us the clouds started moving faster over us, a few black wispy ones raced towards us and then spiraled upwards like wraiths and in a few moments we were hit with 30 knots from the South. It was phenomenal. We set nearly every canvas we had and flew northwards along the coast at a great rate, sometimes reaching 12-13 knots (Søren will do 10 generally), with spray flying over the bow and the seas increasing. There were a couple rough days in the middle there, but we made it to Bundaberg on time, barely.

We arrived in Bundaberg at 0300 on November 7^th, dropped anchor up the river, got a few new crew aboard, unbent the outer jib, t’gallant, lower tops’l, course and mains’l, Dave arrived in a small tender with the branded sails and we bent those on, weighed anchor and moved down river to the pier for the 0900 photo shoot and meet with the big Bundaberg rum guys. The only branding we were able to get in the short week it took to sail to Bundaberg was vinyl stickers – vinyl that was designed to adhere to Dacron, not traditional canvas… As we bent the sails on, we could tell the branding wasn’t going to stick, especially sailing down the coast back to Sydney. To be continued…

Musical Tall Ships

Well, sorry about the delay between posts, I had this fantasy of sitting down and thoughtfully composing an incredible post... But as life would have it, it's simply been a crazy week, or two weeks. Here's the basic idea.    

                                                                                                                                                                                                                                              We got an opportunity from Bundaberg Distilling Company to sail to Bundaberg with their 125th anniversary logos on our sails (this is aboard Southern Swan, the barkentine), pick up a half dozen barrels of Bundy rum and hop back down the coast to Sydney - a realdeal rum run. In return we get a new set of sails (without logos) made for Swan. Sweet deal you think. I arrived in Aus at the start of an intense 2week refit to get the Swan seaworthy- she hasn't been past the heads of Sydney Harbor for probably a decade. Bundaberg is about 900nm North of Sydney, so this was quite a trip to prepare for! In addition to the refit and training a crew for the trip, the Swan had to pass a specific survey in order to travel in near coastal waters; this included a short trip with the surveyor demonstrating man overboard and fire drills. Incredibly, we passed the survey, but the documentd went to some government office for a signature and hasn't been seen since.                                              

We anticipated getting the go-ahead, so went across the bay to Little Manly Cove and have been anchored there for two days bending on sails and doing last minute things. As we only have a limited time to get there the decisiob has finally been made that we shall take the Soren Larsen to Bundaberg instead as she already has her papers in order. However, it is 11pm and the 11 of us must pack ourbags , the pantry, and the bosuns locker, and switch everything with the Soren Larsen when she gets in from her evening sail (there are about 15people living on Soren who must move their belongibgs to the Swan). Its going to be one heck of a night! 

PS. Plank juice is a French Canadian tradition that involves putting some water into old rum or whiskey barrels. You turn the barrel ine plank per day and you eventually end up with rum inside from the wood absorbing the water and releasing the alcohol. mmm. Also, will add pictures when possible (doing this from a smartphone at the moment)!

First Day Off, Awww Yehhhh.

I consider myself very exceptional at being spontaneous, but I think this is olympic status for dropping myself right into the middle of things. The flight over the puddle was long, arduous, and just, well, what flying normally is over a 30hour period. One nice thing though was landing in Fiji just at sunrise, it was quite beautiful.

Immediately off the plane in Sydney, I found the office of the Sydney Harbour Tall Ships, and "enlisted." Bam. Thrown on a ship, stuffed my belongings somewhere in the hold, and started working. It's gotten better since then, though, and the amount I am learning is enormous.

The company has 4 ships, the Soren Larsen, the Coral Trekker, the Southern Swan, and the Wangi Queen. There are some issues going on with the port of Sydney because some of the people in charge don't like seeing all the ships in one place or something, so we are constantly shuffling them around between the pier by the opera house, White Bay which is a commercial area, and the maritime museum.

I've been put to work helping refit the Swan, as she's supposed to go on a trip to Bundaberg next Monday (not this coming one) which I might be on (I also just moved onto the Swan). James, the captain in charge of the refit is really nice and I'm learning a lot from him. Long hours though, the other day we were at it from 7am to 8pm! I've cleaned out the captain's quarters, which was a pretty grimy job, stripped, sanded and oiled the mainmast with linseed & diesel, and today I got to be the rigger's apprentice and help this guy fix and retension the lanyards for the shrouds (I know they're not called shrouds, but I forget what the proper name is) which was really interesting. Other things the rigger taught me was the legend behind the Matthew Walker knot, and how to make Plank Juice from old rum or whiskey barrels, a French-Canadian tradition apparently.

I've also been learning to climb the mast and go out on the yards - it's pretty intimidating at first! This company is one of the few left that have you go up without a full body harness clipped in the whole way, which is very cumbersome. We do have waist harnesses (no leg straps) that clip onto a wire when you climb around onto the top and you're hanging backwards, and onto a safety line when you're out on the yard, but the rest of the time you're on your own. As James said when he was taking me up there for the first time, "nothing like the natural fear of falling to keep you safe; you'll be surprised how strong your hands and arms are." 

And so, my adventure has begun. The folks here are all really nice and helpful, so it's made the transition easier. Some of them are even helpful with how to improve my accent, "You Americans say 'Oh Yeah,' but around here, you gotta learn to say 'Aww Yehh.'" That's all for now, Cheers!