Bergies and Penguins...

"...Morning Coffee with Klaas, Marianne and Sophie in the wheelhouse this morning seemed surreal. The portholes were spattered with massive soppy snowflakes, through which we saw fantastic blue and white icebergs floating past. Nick's voice crackled over the radio now and again as he stood ice watch up on the foredeck, and I thought myself a bit lucky that today was my turn being the galley fairy. The bosun was concerned last night about keeping the new foredeck wet, but today that won't be a problem... The snowflakes were turning into a thick slush on the deck and the clock was nearing seven; time to get breakfast started and spend some seriously emotional moments chopping onions. As I crossed the main deck a particularly nice berg with an aquamarine arch rolled past. Just another coffee break on Europa."

Working on the ship, one often forgets where we are and the everyday natural wonders that we sail past. Life just simplifies and condenses itself (especially if one happens to be sleep deprived) until, if one is not careful, one finds oneself smothered in the plight of the deckhand - trying to please both the bosun and the cook, keep the voyage crew happy by including them in the sailing but also keeping the officers happy by doing so in a timely manner. It's quite the balance. But once in awhile, a particularly nice day or a giant blue iceberg, or an extra few hours of sleep will remind one that we are past the end of the world, in the wilds of the seventh continent, and about as close to raw, untouched nature as one can get.

Some of that nature includes the Penguins. I must admit I was a bit skeptical at the start of my first trip about the penguins, mainly because there is so much hype about how cute they are. But after seeing my first penguin it all melted away because they are indeed cute, they have to be one of the most unique and cute things I have ever seen. Watching them happily waddle down the beach to go for a swim, wings outstretched behind them for balance is something I'll never forget. They are incredibly awkward on land, amazingly graceful in the ocean, and just all around adorable.

There is much more that I saw in Antarctica, some great moments with nature and with mates, some that can't be described in words. The sheer ruggedness of the landscape took my breath away, and the amount that it changes in just a month is awesome. One of the more special moments was a morning on the second trip when I scrambled on deck with a mug of tea and was taken aback with rays of sunshine, seventy-meter-high glaciers nearby and ice everywhere. It was difficult to see exactly how Eric has got the ship into this position because we seemed to be completely surrounded, and Jordi, our lead guide was simply ecstatic. This was a new place for everyone, even Jordi hadn't been here before, and it was the furthest south Europa had ever been. There was too much ice for the tenders, so the morning was spent cruising Europa around among the bergs in unsurveyed waters. What else is there to say, really, it was a unique experience where everyone was lost in the beauty of Antarctica. 

So I would say this venture, one I didn't see myself doing even a few years ago, was a smashing success. Maybe I haven't figured my life out, but I've made some incredible discoveries about life and how you choose to live it. If you take the opportunities that arise, however unlikely they may be, they do have the potential to take you to some incredible places, physically and mentally, and bring you to new perspectives that you never would have considered before.

At the End of the World

I thought maybe I was overthinking things when I jammed all my layers into my backpack. Now I'm thankful for all of them. Ushuaia is developed from a frontier town and the surroundings are pure wilderness. Stiff snowy peaks rise in three directions, and the other is the Beagle Channel. The air is cold. When the sun peeks out it is surprisingly warm, but the wind rips through you when it blows in the afternoon. We had a double crew between trips so it was a good combination of getting a lot of jobs done and catching up with mates. Tomorrow we sail. 

A Sailor Home in Winter

I was actually looking forward to this. And don't get me wrong, I've enjoyed it. The last few months on Europa I was occasionally caught up in daydreams of redwood forests and foggy mornings. And having had three summers in a row, I was kind of anticipating the rainy days and green slushy trails. What I didn't anticipate was the reality of winter, and I had forgotten why I had been so motivated to escape it when I left California last year.

I don't really mind the wet, and the cold is not bad either (I can't say it's truly "cold" in Santa Cruz, ever) but the dark, short days... they drive me crazy. Not to mention the sailing season is over, and my seafaring colleagues are hunkering down for the slow months. Not much work. Dark wet mornings making me wonder what I am doing with my life. I'm sure I'll figure it out. Someday. There has to be a way to enjoy this, and I'm sure I'll get there, it's just...an adjustment.

Weather's looking great in Australia.

A Place Lacking in Yellow Birds

From mid-September:

I have seen the Canary Islands mentioned many times in various literature over the years, but no real descriptions. So in my ignorant mind's eye I pictured some tropical islands with nice yellow dirt (I tried to not imagine little yellow canaries everywhere because that would be overdoing it). That image was great until the other day when we actually made landfall in the Canary Islands.

Far from tropical or yellow, a dry barren land rises up into mountains and old volcanoes surrounded by a light blue sea, and an African sun peeks through clouds overhead. The closest thing it reminds me of is Baja but with touristy little beaches crowded with swimmers and street vendors. It is, as the first mate told me, "Europe's sunbathing destination."

The ten day leg from Lisbon to Las Palmas was a nice one. Despite starting in a fairly calm anchorage in Lisbon, most of our new guests were seasick the first evening, and continued to be so as we beat through some weather the first few days out. There was a poor woman looking green at the rail next to the pin for the t'gallant halyard. I got a few guests to help me hoist the t'gallant, and as we got the sail near to being set, I called "two-six, heave!" The woman heaved over the side while we heaved the halyard home. I do hope she felt better afterwards.

Those first days also tested us a little as a watch. There were quite a few new people with us, and the first night we had to hand and furl the courses (those are the big bottom square sails) while some of the bigger swell broke near the bow and washed across the main deck. If the forecourse hadn't been flogging it would have been humorous seeing two of the new crew forget about hauling while they stared at the sea swishing around their knees. After your first experience like that, though, you get used to the elements changing, and you learn to cope with it.

The rest of the leg was smooth sailing, although the wind could have been a bit more favourable, direction-wise. The weather became warmer, the voyage crew found their sea legs and we made landfall in the sunny Canaries.

A Day During Refit

After only two weeks in Santa Cruz, stepping off the bus at the shipyard still felt like coming home. It also made an impression on me because most of the crew were at the bus stop on their way to the chill out pub. It was a good reunion, it felt like I hadn't seen them in ages, and so much had happened while I was gone. Now that I've been back for a week, Santa Cruz seems like some dream I had; the long days blend together and I often forget what part of the week we are in.

Refit is an insanely busy time, and for lack of creativity, I will give you a typical day on refit in Zaandam.

Wake ups are at 0630. Usually I wake up a little before though, because it is entertaining to hear the person doing the wake ups getting more impatient as they go from cabin to cabin. The first cabin will get a greeting of "good morning sweetie pies, it's 0630. Time to wake up." then it gradually degrades to the last cabin "Time to wake up. It's 0630. Unfortunately."

0715 we all meet on deck (or in the deckhouse if it's raining) to discuss the plan for the day. Usually Erik will give us a rundown on the bigger picture, followed by Klass remarking on the weather and then it is the bosuns' turn to give out the jobs.

This whole period has been full of showers and clouds, "Dutch skies" they call it. Today was pretty wet, but perhaps not as much as yesterday. My morning began setting up the steering gear area for a second coat of primer (we rustbusted the day before, then acided and primed yesterday), then we had to move the ship forward a bit. After that we began priming and finished the steering gear area 20 minutes before morning coffee. And the rest of my day was spent serving wire rigging on the quay.

Serving is how we protect the steel rigging from moisture. First we melt Lanolin and Stockholm tar into "Slush" which we brush liberally onto the bare wire. Next take strips of old cotton sheets, dip them in slush and then wrap tightly around the wire with the lay. This is called parcelling. Finally we are ready to serve the thing! There is a very specific way to set up the service, but basically it is wrapping twine around the wire against the lay. We use a special serving mallet to keep constant tension, and you have to either pass the spool of twine around as you go, or make a spool on the wire that you push in front of you. Final step is to tar the new service with a recipe of paint, varnish and more stockholm. Voila!

Hello Northern Hemisphere

Well, that catamaran trip was something I could have lived without... But changing the subject and jumping ahead in a mighty leap, here I am back in the northern hemisphere and awaiting a plane at the San Francisco airport to take me to fair Amsterdam of the Netherlands.

Now if you've been reading my posts in succession, you may be asking, or rather demanding irritably how I have managed to make that leap since the May post, but it will all unfold presently. 

I happen to have just been home for two nice weeks due to my eldest brother's forthcoming nuptials, which were in the works for about as long as it takes for freshly picked raspberries to go mushy. However, it was a lovely wedding (no mushy raspberries present) and I enjoyed meeting the bride and getting to know her a bit. The other highlight was meeting my seven-month-old niece for the first time. 

I am very much anticipating my return to Holland because it will be nearing three months that I have been crewing aboard the bark Europa (http://www.barkeuropa.com). Owing to some good friends met in Australia, I stuffed my pack and flew from Melbourne to Amsterdam in June to work a three week refit aboard Europa. It was like getting hit over the head with a brick, but the nicest, softest, luckiest brick that ever was made. There was organization, there was real food, there was a bunk for me, there were captains present and a good crew. The work was hard, the days long, but it was a rewarding experience. Some of the jobs included replacing the maintopmast, rust busting in the bilges, tearing apart and rust busting cabins, and my especial "small person project," prepping and painting a tight corner of the forepeak. I will always remember that project, partly because it took me close to three days to complete, but also because I was in the thick of it when Klass, one of the captains, popped his head in and said, "well Krista, I suppose you want to sail with us?" I looked up and vigorously nodded my heavily masked head. He smiled, "well then, you can sail the races to Norway with us."

The race was an absolute blast, as well as a bit of a crash course in Europa-isms for me. I'd been aboard for three weeks before the start of the race, but refit didn't give me much chance to learn the pinrails or the process for maneuvers. Europa has thirty sails she can set, each of those sails having at least three lines running to it, and usually more. The race also gave me a chance to experience how she sails...

In the right amount of wind she felt like a yacht, it was incredible. The skippers like to sail her, and when they sail her they set all sails possible for the conditions. In a reasonable wind, with sails trimmed she heels a bit and man is it a beautiful thing. 

We hit a little weather as well and had a steady 27-33knots of wind for about 24hours mid-race. Most of our fifty sail trainees became seasick; one of the exceptions was a brave young man who we observed running a sort of puke-bucket brigade. He would come out of the deckhouse, carefully lug the bucket to the leeward side of the main deck whereupon he would deposit the contents over the side, rinse the bucket in the streaming scuppers and make his way back inside. After he handed the fresh bucket back he would stand near the door, listening. Sure enough, a few minutes later he would perk up and scurry into the masses of teenagers holed up in the deckhouse, and emerge on deck in a continuation of the routine. This was highly amusing for us to watch from the wheelhouse during a coffee break, although thanks to the Swedish watch system there wasn't a whole lot that didn't amuse us. 

In the Swedish watch system, the crew are divided in half. The daylight hours are split into two watches, the first from 0800 to 1400, and the second from 1400 to 2000. Then comes the trickier part; the night hours are split into three watches: 2000 to 2400, 2400 to 0400, and 0400 to 0800. The nice thing about it is you get to see different parts of the day because of the odd number of watches, but it takes most people longer to get used to biologically. It took me about a week to get into. And even after you get used to it, conversation and senses of humour tend to spiral in a weird downwards direction. I won't say it isn't entertaining though. 

During the aforementioned weather we blew out the inner jib, but were able to bend on a spare; that was an exciting job. And although we were close hauled the whole race, we placed third overall in our class. We had a leisurely cruise back to Amsterdam after a few days in Fredrickstad; we sailed along the coast of Denmark and then went through the Kiel Canal. Arrived in Amsterdam July 22nd, and then it was packing off to California for me and preparing for a second refit for everyone else. The second refit is on til August 31st, but the fantastic thing is we get Sundays off this time! I may even make it off the ship and out of Zaandam to see some of Amsterdam.

A Taste of the Modern...

It's funny how places can suck you in and it's a fight for life to get out, like quicksand. Well, Sydney Harbour Tallships is one of those places, in the best and worst of ways. There are some absolutely awesome people I had the privilege of knowing, but also some not so nice people, but mostly people who didn't live in reality. I will leave it at that; it took me five months to survive and escape.

So with many goodbyes and a feeling of new-found independence, I caught my last heaving line on Campbell's Cove wharf, strapped on my backpack and caught the train up to Newcastle. The first part of my traveling adventures began in Bulahdelah with some really fantastic friends in what I can only describe as being very similar to a Swiss Family Robinson sort of home. Ruby the cattledog wasn't as good at herding cattle as she was at chasing Antechinus, and as the rainy season was approaching I met many hungry leeches as well. I also had the privilege of being a roady for the local rock-n-roll band, Brew Ha-ha, when they did a grand gig in Forster, which was a really good time. 

Further adventures brought me through Bellingen, a lovely place full of rivers and pastures, to catch up with some shipmates, and then I decided it might be worthwhile to see the big red rock. It is big, it is very, very red, and it truly is out in the middle of nowhere. There are, in fact, two big red rocks out there. But there is an interesting feeling about the place, it's very peaceful and quiet and the sheer massiveness of Kata Tjuta and Uluru remind you that you truly are a tiny speck in the vast universe. Interestingly, the rocks go for quite a ways underground too, making them the two largest rocks on the face of the earth. 

Next was my brilliant fumble in scheduling, and thinking a 20hr bus ride wouldn't be too bad. It was from Alice Springs to Adelaide... And it was pretty long. Buses are not my favourite anymore. 

Onwards to the mystical Whitsunday Islands, where I spent Easter aboard a boat that sailed through a few of the islands. Situated at the south end of the Great Barrier Reef, there is some fantastic diving and the whitest sand beach you will ever find. Ninety-nine-point-something percent pure silica. 

The newest development is crewing as a third person on a passage from Brisbane to New Caledonia aboard a new Corsair 50 catamaran. After months of fat lines, belaying pins and gaffs, it is indeed strange to be using electric winches and roller furling. It's also a bit of an infamous passage to be making, strong headwinds and tails of tropical storms often garnish the course to Nouméa. But we are watching the weather and hoping for a good trip.