Archives for June 2013

Tuesday, 18 June, 2013

Pos: 43 45.45’N x 077 48.38’W
Wx: ENE F 2-3, Overcast with light rain
Pride of Baltimore II under all plain sail and t’gallant making 3-5 knots

After ten days in the mighty St. Lawrence River, and a week in the impossibly picturesque Thousand Islands region, Pride of Baltimore II has reached the open expanse of her first Great Lake in 2013. For the past week, Pride II has been engulfed in the craggy beauty, impressive architecture, and endless array of water craft this region boasts. From a logistic stop in charming Clayton – home to the elaborate small craft collection of the Antique Boat Museum – to a busy festival in Brockville, or “Brock-Vegas,” the region’s largest city, Pride II has seen a good bit of what the Thousand Islands have to offer.

In our stay, we have felt both warmly welcomed and quite at home. Summer time in this region is firmly guided by what Ratty said to Mole in Kenneth Grahame’s beloved classic, The Wind in the Willows, “there is NOTHING — absolute nothing — half so much worth doing as simply messing about in boats.” That’s a philosophy we at Pride II can jump into with both feet. From classic runabouts seemingly soaked in varnish, to the elegant St. Lawrence River rowing skiff, to stand-up paddle boards, the St. Lawrence teems with vessels. Pride II was thrilled to be one of the 11 Tall Ships adding deep sea flair to the stage in both Clayton and Brockville.

But “The River” is behind us now. So is half of Lake Ontario, thanks to an uncharacteristic northeast breeze we’ve been riding since last night. At 2016, we cleared the end of the St. Lawrence and were able to take a slant on the breeze that had been teasing us from dead astern through the confined afternoon of river navigation. By sunset, we’d cracked on everything but the stuns’l and were surging along at eight knots, drawn westward by a setting first quarter moon. A brace of wares had us around the shallows of Psyche Shoal and on the rhumb line for Toronto, our next port and home to Ontario’s, indeed Canada’s, largest Tall Ship Festival this year.

What a change it promises! In a few short days, Pride II will sail from the sleepy St. Lawrence to the biggest city on the Great Lakes. It’s precisely this kind of variety that draws so many of us to life as sailors. Just as each passage, even on familiar waters, holds the promise of different weather, each visit to a port, even a familiar one, is also different, a new adventure. In between, we are content aboard the snug and known comforts of Pride II, our own little village on the water, where we each depend upon
each other and all depend on the ship, no matter what weather may come or ports await.

All best,

Captain Jamie Trost and the Great Laking crew of Pride of Baltimore II

Monday, 10 June, 2013

Pos:LongueilAnchorageNumber One,PortofMontreal

Wx: ENE F 1, 7/8ths stratus

Pride of Baltimore II at anchor in 40 feet of river on two shots of chain

Anchored in the considerable current of the St. Lawrence River, Pride of Baltimore II awaits a routine inspection by the St. Lawrence Seaway Authority, the corporation which governs the waterway and the seven locks connecting Montreal to Lake Ontario – 159 nautical miles horizontally and 236 feet vertically. Without these locks, the rocky slough of the Lachine Rapids would mark the end of the line for Pride II. In fact, it was these very rapids that kept the vast British Navy out of the Great Lakes in 1812, putting England and America on equally unequipped footing for the coming conflicts on Lake Ontario and, of course, the significant US victory on Lake Erie.

Setting aside the impassable Lachine, getting a sailing ship as far as Montrealin 1812 would have been an excruciating affair. Even today it is no simple task, and for the 20 hours or so before we anchored in small hours of this morning, Pride II was treading narrow channels along pastoral scenes, bustling factories, and scores of church spires. For all that way, she stemmed a steady current, a river current – a sure sign we’d bid adieu to the sea and were truly inland.

Below Quebec City on Saturday, however, the river proved itself a long reaching tendril of the ocean. Under frequent showers and through thick fog, strong Northeast breezes conflicted with ebbing tides and honed the waters of the St. Lawrence to sharpness. Pride II managed seven hours of pure sailing up the river in rollicking conditions, from l’Ile aux Lievres until the fittingly named Chenal des Grands Volliers – the Channel of Tall Ships. It wasn’t just sailing – still ocean owned, the lower St. Lawrence runs a decent flood. We hitched a ride, making over ten knots for a stretch under fore tops’l, stays’l, and fores’l.

But the St. Lawrence flood is nothing when compared to its ebb, and by midnight Sunday we were slogging against its full strength off Quebec, eagerly trying to pinpoint the right time to arrive at the river’s most treacherous spot, the Richelieu Rapides. As ruthless as the 17^th century French Cardinal who shares their name, the Rapides are almost never still, feature a maximum ebb current of eight knots, and are marked by drying rocks on either side of the narrow channel that comprises them. Passing through in a moment of relative calm is, in a word, vital.

For all the numerous navigation tools and technology Pride II possesses, one book towered high for negotiating these disobedient, mercurial waters of the St. Lawrence – The Atlas of Tidal currents of the St. Lawrence Estuary from Cap de Bon-Desir to Trois-Rivieres. Published by Fisheries and Oceans Canada in 1997, this reference divides the most challenging section of river into nine digestible geographic zones, and dissects the movement of water within each of them into hourly bytes. Bold, primary colors show strength and nearly cartoonish arrows mark the racing ebbs, the driving floods and the swirling eddies. It is a marvelously simple book to use, and allowed Pride II to exploit both a detour through Chenal du Sud and a bolstering flood along the southern shore. For 24 hours, it was indispensable for navigation.

Even now, in my mind, it serves as an indelible reminder that simple tools are often best. That is, after all, why we sail these Grand Volliers, isn’t it?

All best,

Captain Jamie Trost and the crew of Pride of Baltimore II 

Friday, 7 June, 2013

Pos: 49 18.4’N x 065 54.7’W

Wx: ENE F 1, 2/8ths cirrus, seas flat

Pride of Baltimore II: motoring?!? (Alas, it’s true)

The St. Lawrence River is a mill pond this morning. Maybe only for this 
morning, as strong, favorable breezes are forecast to fill later, but for 
now there’s scarcely a ripple and no remnant of yesterday’s heaping sea. 
We’re also bucking a two-knot current – that much moving water will subdue 
nearly any left over sea. Last night, Pride of Baltimore II officially entered the St. Lawrence River, as defined in the Royal Proclamation of 1763. From a line between Cape des Rosiers and Pointe de l’Ouest on Anticosti Island, the river stretches 662  nautical miles to Cape Vincent and Lake Ontario. Pride II’s current latitude is roughly as far north as she’s been in seven years. Shortly, we’ll pass sixty-six degrees west longitude, the first Call-in Point (CIP) for Escoumins Traffic.

For the next 600 miles or so, we’ll be part of some such vessel traffic service, reporting at dozens of such CIPs while negotiating intense currents, massive passing ships, and seven tall locks until we reach Lake Ontario. The backdrop will be some of the continent’s most pleasant scenery  – foggy mountains steep against the shore, rolling farm lands, the imposing Citadel of Quebec, the urban chic of Montreal, the quaint summertime lake cottages of Ontario and New York, and the elaborate castles of the rocky Thousand Islands.

To start this leg of the passage, we escaped La Malbaie just after lunch yesterday. True to form, the bay tried to keep us ensnared. As we started heaving up the anchor the breeze came in force five east-northeast. Pinned on a lee shore, the crew raced through evolutions to get Pride II clawing her way back to the Gulf of St. Lawrence. With the mains’l to keep her head toward the weather, we walked the narrow path of breaking the anchor and backing the jib simultaneously in order to cast the ship onto port tack and toward the Gulf. Then a fury of setting fores’l, then stays’l while the watch working the anchor catted and fished the hook, securing it for sea, and Pride II happily defying the bay’s entrapments under her four lowers.  Once clear of the outer reaches, we tacked to starboard and set a reefed foretops’l to help drive her along. Then, as suddenly as it sprang up, the embaying breeze faded as we passed La Malbaie’s northern limit at Pointe Ste Pierre. We’d escaped, but were left with curse of motoring.

As curses go, it’s not that bad. After 40 hours of waiting for weather to subside, we certainly aren’t going to dawdle in the outer river, waiting for the next gale to come bowling along. At any rate, the sky seemed to celebrate our escape from La Malbaie. Last night Aurora Borealis consumed the northern heavens, flashing and stretching up from the horizon far enough to obscure Polaris and even the Big Dipper in their spectacle. Dreamlike and tireless, they flaunted throughout the short, near-summer night, reveling in the flawlessly clear sky, fading only when the orange hint of dawn upstaged them.

All best,

Captain Jamie Trost and the finally underway again crew of Pride of 
Baltimore II

Tuesday, 4 June, 2013

Pos: 48 14.0’N x 064 13.6’W
Wx: Your guess is as good as mine, we’ve seen just about everything in the last 12 hours
Sail Plan: Changes almost minute to minute, but currently four lowers and fore tops’l

This weather is for the birds, literally. Since a brief rain squall at 0300, Pride of Baltimore II has been host to an ever increasing population of finches. Probably blown out to sea in the fresh to strong southwest breeze we sailed under, they found our hundred feet of deck as a refuge in an  otherwise inhospitable salt water world – so we’ve got that much in common.  In the 12 or so hours since then, they have frolicked, fought, and occasionally agreed to be held by some of us sailors. Too far from shore to  make it back to land, they occasionally dare a sortie, but usually never get  out of sight before struggling back to the shrouds, the rail, or the  transom. They’ve cleaned us out of bugs, and don’t seem too fond of crackers, so some trial and error is ongoing to keep them fed.

They’re likely pretty dizzy by now, as the Gulf of St. Lawrence has offered a stunning series of wind shifts, all associated with a weak low pressure that is almost directly overhead. There are forecasts that can chill a sailor’s bones, and ones that can make a seafaring heart leap for joy, but none can so infuriate as the dreaded “variable winds 10-20 knots.” That’s what Pride II – and our sister privateer, Lynx, about three miles to the east of us – have been dealing with since pre-dawn. After a busy weekend in Miramichi, where nearly 7,000 visitors stepped over the rail, the four American vessels (the two privateers, along with Unicorn and Peacemaker) all departed together in a miniature parade of sail. Once out the river, we took advantage of a favorable breeze and were quickly on our way toward Cape Gaspe and the entrance to the St. Lawrence River.

Now we are spinning circles at the mouth of Chaleur Bay. There’s no rush to turn the corner at Gaspe, as the forecasts for tonight and tomorrow up there are for 20-30 knots out of the west and an associated two to three meter sea. So Pride II is chasing the breeze, and between the sometimes frantic evolutions required by the shifting winds, the crew are chasing finches around the deck, occasionally getting one to settle in their hand, or even, as happened to Chief Mate Jill Hughes, find one hungry enough to pick the remnants of lunch out of their teeth.

All best,

Captain Jamie Trost and the Birdmen and Birdwomen of Pride of Baltimore II

Pride II is currently looking to fill the position of cook! The ship is in the beginning stages of Tall Ships America’s 2013 Great Lakes Challenge, spanning all five great lakes visiting ports on both sides of the Lakes. Prior experience is important. American citizenship or working privileges is required. If interested in applying, please email cover letter, resume, and list of references to Captain Jan Miles (jan@pride2.org) and Captain Jamie Trost (jamie@pride2.org). Please include in your cover letter what you feel you will bring to the ship and her mission, as well as what you hope to gain from your experience working aboard Pride II.

This position is seasonal.

Please help us spread the word by sharing this post, and reaching out to your personal contacts who may be interested. We need to fill this position ASAP

 

Friday, 31 May, 2013

Pos: 47 05.9’N x 064 53.0’W
Wx: WSW F 3, Overcast and chilly with scattered magic and a 100% chance of
lobsters
Pride of Baltimore II at Anchor in 30′ of water

Pride of Baltimore II is swinging on her port bower off the fishing village of Escuminac, New Brunswick, population 263 in 1986, according to the sailing directions. The village stands solitary on the broad sandy beaches of Miramichi Bay. To the northeast the Gulf of St. Lawrence stretches out under a leaden sky marbled with sunlight. Hovering between the light breeze and a flood current, the ship rocks nearly constantly to the wakes of lobster boats.

We anchored here yesterday at 1910, two hours before the lavishly late sunset. From our last posting in St. Georges Bay, Pride II has had a mix of nearly everything. Approaching the Northumberland Straits south of Prince Edward Island, the coastal hills of Nova Scotia shown emerald under the warmest sun we’d seen in a week. The breeze freshened and veered as we rounded Cape George and headed toward Pictou Island. We swapped the stuns’l in exchange for the fores’l as we came on the wind. Thought about the  mains’l, but held off. Pride II was just fine without it, sailing  close hauled fifty degrees off the true wind, making eight to nine knots –  impersonating a sloop by carrying everything she owned on the foremast and dragging around a bare stick of mainmast.

There are calculations and studies done that scientifically explain the hows and whys of sailing ships, explanations as to why Pride II moves as well as she does. The Society of Naval Architects and Marine Engineers (SNAME) has been observing and cataloging data from Pride II for the better part of a decade. We’ve been teaching some of the basics to eighth graders all spring. I, myself, have studied stability for the battery of tests required to obtain a license as a Merchant Marine Officer. But when Pride II takes off  like she did on Wednesday afternoon, I say scrap all the data, ignore the empirical. I claim magic.

Magic. Because going to weather with no mains’l must be magic; because screaming along close to ten knots, the ship was steering herself, the helmsman was there only to adjust when the wind shifted, and could then step away to let the ship do her thing. Magic. Because the ship, this design born in and bred for the Chesapeake Bay was proving she was at home, in her true element, anywhere there was wind and water. Magic, because, like a horse on a track, like a bloodhound on a trail, the ship knew where she was going and what she was doing. She didn’t need us. We were just along for the ride, the  incredible, magic ride.

My extremely limited experience with magic has taught me this much – it never lasts long. It can’t, else it would cease being magic, become the accepted norm, and give us far fewer reasons to marvel. Rain, it seems, is a common harbinger that the magic is over. This was the case around midnight  Wednesday turning Thursday. The breeze got shifty and fickle with the added  moisture and by noon was gone altogether. We motored for a stretch to position ourselves near the Miramichi River mouth, had a quite night at anchor.

This morning, just before the impossibly early sunrise, we awoke to the sound of a vessel maneuvering close by. Coming to deck, I saw a lobster boat, out from Escuminac, holding alongside the port main chains, and the lobstermen talking to Engineer Seth Page. They’d already asked Seth how many crew we had aboard, and Seth, following their instructions had fetched a bucket. I got there just in time to thank them as they handed the bucket back over the rail, teeming with 17 live lobsters. Generosity, it seems, is  a kind of magic that will endure rain and cold and early mornings. In my  limited experience, it seems most prevalent when you arrive in a port after a long voyage across the water.

All best,

Captain Jamie Trost and the soon to lunch on lobster crew of Pride of  Baltimore II