A long time ago, in a
galaxy far, far away, there was an age of sail. It was grand. Sailors
were dirty, poor, smelled bad, and were known for their indiscretions
and general loutishness. Meanwhile, sailing was a profitable business
venture, a means of trade and transport. All of this was quite
splendid until some clever folks figured out some crazy stuff during
the industrial revolution and from then on, sailing faded in the
oddest of ways from being a poor man's job to a rich man's sport.
Fast forward to the
present. Many times, when people ask what I do for a living and I say
that I'm a sailor, they actually can't figure out what I mean. It's
just not done anymore. There are professional sailors? What the
bloody hell do they do?
Well, my friends,
that's honestly a rather reasonable question. And my answer to you is
this: we keep the dream alive. There is an art and a beauty to
sailing, a sense of euphoria when the sails are set and the lines are
humming and the wind whips your hair back from your face and throws
spray sparkling around you. There is hard work to be done, and the
sense of camaraderie and teamwork that goes into keeping the boat
going. There is great value still in simply sailing, even if
economically, it's entirely illogical.
And so, to keep the
dream alive, to keep the money, if not flowing, at least somewhat
stemming the wound, the sailing world has by and large turned to
cruising and sail training. Some boats do booze cruises, island
hopping, in a word, tourism. Others of us have latched onto the grand
idea of putting kiddies on boats to teach them good skills, like
respect, teamwork and leadership, as well as using the boat as a
classroom for sciences, navigational mathematics, geography and
anthropology (depending, of course, on where the boat goes). And all
of this is great, but in order to keep interest and awareness up,
there comes a time in every tall ship's life that it must advertise.
The best way to do this is in Tall Ship festivals and thus, we come
to my summer.
Festivals consist of a
bunch of boats going on a road trip together; somewhat like a band
going on tour. We head to a port, open our boats for thousands of
people to tromp about on all weekend, then we have a parade, and
trundle off, sometimes racing for funzies.
Now, I love answering
questions about sailing. In fact, it's pretty much my main job on
this ship. So I hear that thousands will be coming to see our ship
and ask questions and I'm pretty onboard with the idea. Except-
people are stupid. There is absolutely such thing as a stupid
question, and sometimes people do the strangest things.
Some stupid questions
and events during open ship in Toronto.
“Do you actually sail
this boat?” (No, it's definitely all a ruse. We teleported here.)
“How are you going to
leave?” (More teleportation, of course. The boat is superfluous. I
did actually answer that question with a huge grin and the honest
answer, “Well, sir, we're going to leave by boat.”)
“Do you really use
the wheel?” (No, I steer with my mind. This is just a prop we put
up to make you think this is real.)
“Why is the wheel
backwards?” (Yeah, about that. Guess the boat builders just messed
up when they put it in and we never fixed it. Never mind the box full
of steering gear right behind it that attaches it to the rudder.)
“Do you guys really
leave all this stuff outside?” (Of course not! We pry up everything
that is bolted down and bring it inside. Or we build structures
around them every time we suspect rain. Wouldn't want to ruin all
that pretty varnish.)
“Why is this big
metal thing here? It's in the way.” (Oh, of course ma'am. I'll get
that bollard removed straight away so you can walk around better. I'm
not sure where we're going to attach our dock lines anymore, but all
of these parts are just for show anyway.)
“Why isn't the anchor
down?” (Eh gads! The anchor isn't down? We're going to drift away!
Oh no! It's too bad these lines attaching us to land won't help.)
“You should make
these gangways less steep.” (I'll get right on that. What do you
think would be better; raising the land, or cutting a hole in the
side of the ship?)
It's truly amazing how
many people think all of this is for show, or that we don't actually
do anything onboard these vessels. Astonished faces greet me when I
affirm that yes, we do climb the rigging, often multiple times a day
and yes, I have been to the top. Probably three times the prior day.
It's also amazing how surprised people are when you tell them that
you live on the ship. I don't really know where else they think we'd
be living, especially since we're in a different port every weekend.
Also, my favorite action of all time was when one of our volunteers
caught a family of four attempting to climb into one of our small
boats that hang off the side. He overheard them saying “This is the
perfect place for a picnic!” and turned around to see them standing
on the railing, attempting to climb into the boat.
Ah, the humanity.
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