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Photo: A tradition in recent years, the crew gathered for a quick end-of-season photo. From left to right: Chief Mate Jeff Crosby, Phil Keenan, Joe Byington, Shevawn Innes, David Stolz, Chad Lossing, James Rogers, Blake Lowry, Captain Jan Miles.

Tuesday, June 16, 2020

Today is the last day of layup work by Pride’s 2020 liveaboard seasonal sailing crew. At the end of this day, when layup preparation is complete, the liveaboard crew will be heading toward futures not clear, except that they know where they will be sleeping ashore.

The process of protecting the ship for this long-term layup is without much mystery. Every winter layup includes covering the ship to protect her from direct sunlight and precipitation. The ship was already in winter layup when the decision for continuing into a long-term layup was forced for the rest of that year of 2018. A never-before layup spanning more than a full calendar year. A lot was learned after that layup about what happens to the ship for any layup that includes summer months.

Passive ventilating, under the well-ventilated design of the sun and rain blocking ship’s cover that we use every winter between active sailing seasons, is not adequate during summer layup months for preventing mold buildup down below nor plank seams opening up more than they do during short winter layups. During the summer, unlike during winter months, the average wind speed is much reduced and the humidity is much increased. While the ship’s cover protects from direct sunlight and precipitation, the low-velocity summer winds are not enough to stir air down below, as do winter winds flowing through the cover over deck openings. The lesson we learned is that it requires artificial wind under the cover and inside the ship to reduce the chance of growing mold down below. So, this time around for this summer layup, there are numerous fans moving air on deck, down below, and even in the bilges.

To reduce plank seam opening through this extended summer layup ahead of the normal winter layup, there will be regular wetting of deck and topside plank seams. Two to three times a week, we think. This will be a significantly time-consuming activity. Likely each wet down will take a couple of hours.

Knowing well in advance the decision to lay up the ship for this pandemic year, extra time was taken to cover Pride’s big lower masts with extra coats of protecting oil, plus a “holding coat” of glossy/reflective varnish. The crew also soaked additional tar on the exposed parts of the wire standing rigging that is covered with tarred marlin. The ten-foot-tall (long) tops of the lower masts, the doublings, as we call them because of the overlap between lower end of topmasts and upper end of lower masts (hence the term doubling), are painted black and apt to get pretty hot from the sun. This leads to the growth of small checks in the painted surface through the increased heat. The black painted areas at the top of the big lower masts have been given “shade” from the sun by a covering system that provides an air space between the shade cover and the black painted mast doublings. The shade is installed in a fashion estimated to be robust for the significant wind speeds that can occur at the height of the doublings.

We also hang a sun-blocking skirt between ship’s cover and the waterline on the starboard side every layup. This became important during the shorter length wintertime layups because of the orientation of the ship. She is moored pointed east. All winter long, her starboard side was receiving daily doses of direct sunlight and we observed seams opening in some parts of her topside planking over the relatively short winter. The skirting reduced the amount of opening to nearly no opening at all. Except for occasions of a full summer layup. A fair amount of compensating caulking and replacement seam compound above the waterline was required before sailing after the first full year of layup. This time round, we hope periodic wetting will be effective at reducing, if not preventing, seams from opening, such as we observed during the last summertime layup.

Last time (in 2018), the long-term layup was due to an unforeseen extreme budget shortfall that not only laid the ship up, but laid off all the senior marine staff and nearly all of the full-time company staff. This time, the layup cause is the global pandemic. With state legislature support for a span of five years that started late 2018 and an active staff since early 2019 raising funds and earning grants, as well as developing direct ship use income, there are funds for keeping the company running through the rest of this year. However, not enough to keep the ship sailing. Thus the staff will be able to continue to make plans for next year’s campaigning of the ship. Meanwhile, the company will also keep key senior marine staff employed for assisting with planning while also caring for and maintaining the ship. Hence this layup will include ship maintenance as well as increased attention to preservation while we all await sailing again next year.

Maintenance that will occur between the bit of sailing done this year and the plan for a full season next year will include a number of unessential desires. Like replacing the galley counter around the galley sink due to the accumulation of water contamination of the end grain of galley counter wood. There will also be some detailed cosmetic care in the galley. This layup will also provide some time that is hard to set aside during winter layups between fully active sailing seasons for making replacement blocks rather than purchasing new. “Shipkeeper” Chief Mate Jeff Crosby’s highly skilled carpentry will be put to use creating jigs for standardizing the making of block-shell pieces that can be assembled into shells of blocks. It will be a relatively simple matter of shifting sheaves and sheave-pins to the newly assembled shells. Leaving future sailing crew to re-strop new blocks when it is time to replace the old shells. (Easy for me to say … eh?)

Meanwhile, I hope all the departing crew and you readers of these logs remain diligent.

Signed,

Jan C. Miles
Senior Captain

Date: Monday, October 30, 2017

Position: Chestertown, Maryland

The last “public access sails” for this weekend’s Sultana Downrigging Weekend maritime event were Sunday afternoon. It was a wonderfully serendipitous weekend between two major rain events associated with Tropical Storm Phillipe rushing northward not far offshore past the mid-Atlantic coast in the north western Atlantic Ocean.

Sunday afternoon’s sail wind strength was lighter than it had been Friday or Saturday and the direction was not as “fair” for sailing river reaches between turn-arounds. So, mostly the strategy was motor away against the soft prevailing breeze and then sail slowly back.

During the sail back, another serendipitous development occurred: the five larger vessel attendees, Kalmar Nyckel, Pride of Baltimore II, Lynx, Lady Maryland, and Sultana ended up grouped together, nearly abreast (meaning as many as three abreast with one close ahead and one close behind). This is a rare event due to the navigational restrictions of the Chester River, but in this instance, our slow and steady sailing pace and the somewhat higher than usual water level, along with a fair and light strength but sailable breeze, enabled a degree of comfort for the vessel masters to sail in very close proximity and not feel navigationally or maneuverable-y crowded. In other words, the five vessels were sailing at nearly the same speed while somewhat abreast within proximity of less than half a boat length. At times for-reaching from a half a boat length behind and passing to about a half a boat length forward as the fair quartering breeze would at first be free and clear and then be shadowed by the vessel to windward being passed to leeward.

For those aboard, it was a rare opportunity to have normal volume conversation across all five vessels which were so close together and moving slow enough so that they made hardly any water noise and were more or less gliding along. The light wind also meant little ambient noise.

This small armada-in-formation eventually and naturally (due to different speeds and sail combinations) spread lengthwise by about one to two boat lengths between each and at just the right moment to permit the masters to organize sail taking-in and docking maneuvers without any radio chatter to clarify other vessels’ masters’ intentions. Each master was keenly observant of where they could best go to get what their needs/desires were and yet not give any cause for another master to misread or feel blocked or crowded. Nearly in coordination, sails were taken-in and reverse direction dockside maneuvers were made. This seemingly choreographed routine became pretty logically feasible considering the fleet had already made at least three sails together during this weekend event and the wind conditions were somewhat more moderate this time around. But still, a demonstration of know-how.

My compliments to all.

Signed,

Captain Jan C. Miles

Date: Monday, October 16, 2017
Position: Portsmouth, Virginia

2017 Great Chesapeake Bay Schooner Race

The results of the 2017 GCBSR are already known. Due to the weather, all competing vessels sailed at their maximum speed for the whole length of the race. There was not much strategizing to do with wind coming from a fair direction; from the start, all vessels were mostly steering directly for the finish line as fast as they could sail. The most strategic decision was how much white-knuckle sailing was acceptable, meaning how much and what kind of sail to set. Aboard Pride of Baltimore II, it was not possible to have her studding-sail up for much of the race. It was set north of Bloody Point, but had to be taken in by the time she reached Poplar Island due to stronger gusts. Around dusk, abeam of Point Lookout in the center of the bay, we struck the main gaff-topsail and the top-gallant due to increasing gust strength. All of these decisions were not due to the overall wind strength, but due to the angle of the wind as it came across Pride. Had the wind direction been more northeast than it was, meaning the ship was experiencing an apparent wind angle of around 100 degrees, we could have kept all the kites up. But with apparent wind angles hovering around 60 to 70 degrees, the ship was unable to stand up to the pressure without risk of burying her lee bulwark. Prudence prevailed and Pride continued down the bay right along with the vanguard group of the racing fleet led by Virginia and followed by the three-vessel group of Summerwind, Woodwind, and Pride.

It was with admiration and enjoyment as I watched Virginia pass Pride by soon after the start and then persist in elongating her lead. She finally led Pride by roughly an hour and eleven minutes over the 118 nautical mile course. Considering there is more than a full century of development in naval architecture knowledge and construction technology between the two vessel types (maybe the most significant being common-thread metal fastenings) it is easy to imagine just how stunned the world must have been with the totally unique Chesapeake Bay watercraft of the War of 1812 and their success as privateers. Since the war, Baltimore Clippers, as the schooners were later nick-named, have been admired for both their beauty and performance, and whose design has been copied and used around the world for transporting high value cargo in high risk circumstances, both legal and illegal.

Lady Maryland was also truly impressive. She is a reproduction of another venerable Chesapeake Bay watercraft known as the Pungy Schooner, developed during the mid-1800s and therefore also advantaged by the easy availability of common-thread fastenings. This advance in technology allowed for a much lighter and as a result, speedy hull form for efficient commercial transport. Shorter than Pride, it stands to reason she would not be quite as fast, but she was a mere two hours and 32 minutes behind Pride. Meanwhile, only three hours and forty-five minutes behind Virginia.

Woodwind is another interesting study for me. She is truly representative of modern construction techniques available these last three to four decades, meaning wood lamination. This technique reduces the weight of construction and permits for an extreme hull shape as compared to bent wood pieces found in traditional wood construction represented by other vessels in Woodwind’s single A-class, like Summerwind. As a seventy-foot schooner, her modern construction permits her to be modernly-shaped under the water, while looking pretty classic to the middle of the 20-century above her waterline. Her underwater shape is akin to a flat bottom canoe with a long and stout two-thirds-waterline-in-length blade/fin attached below. With enough wind from a fair direction, plus quite a bit of gumption from her crew, she can beat the waterline-length rule of thumb for hull speed through water. She stayed ahead of Pride and remained very close to Summerwind and not far from Virginia notwithstanding her significantly shorter waterline. There was a gap of nearly an hour and a half between Pride, the fourth in the vanguard of four vessels (two double-A and two single-A class vessels), and the next finisher: a single-A class vessel.

The surprise for me was being recognized for the Black Dog Trophy during the awards ceremony! I was nearly speechless! Captain Lane Briggs remains a giant in our midst! To be included with those also recognized for being akin to his renowned character is stunning to me. I knew I needed to respond to receiving the trophy and speak to the audience about my feelings of being bestowed such an honor. What to say? How to say it? Completely spontaneously, I thought to share first-hand my experience of Lane’s challenge: a race between the newly christened and launched Pride of Baltimore II and his tugantine, Norfolk Rebel, down the bay for a case of beer. Lane, with his gravelly voice and his off-hand manner of speaking sound and well considered points. It has been almost three decades since that experience and this 2017 GCBSR is number twenty-eight. Congratulations to all for your consistent and persistent organizing of and participating in “The Great Chesapeake Bay Schooner Race!” I believe it may be the largest schooner-only race in the world. But even if it is not the largest schooner race, it has to be the most welcoming and inclusive!

Portsmouth, Virginia, continues to be a most welcoming port. It is a quiet town with a wondrous “old town” residential area. We are holding off our departure, bound for Annapolis, due to fresh northerly winds this Monday. We are getting some ship care done while we wait for the contrary weather to reduce. There are always wants of care for this complex, well-traveled, nearly three-decade-old traditionally constructed wooden vessel. So no time is being wasted.

Signed,
Jan C. Miles Senior Captain

Photo courtesy of The National Sailing Hall of Fame

The National Sailing Hall of Fame, based in Annapolis, and the Sydney Flying Squadron collaborated to put on a regatta for the Hall of Fame’s sandbaggers and the traditional Aussie 18 foot skiffs that the Squadron sails. They shipped three of the skiffs (Alruth, Aberdare, and Australia IV), all reproductions of designs from the 1920’s through 1950, to Annapolis in a shipping container, and assembled them there.

The sandbaggers (Bull and Bear) are replicas of America’s earliest racing craft, which were essentially workboats used for tonging oysters. In a strange manifestation of Adam Smith’s Invisible Hand, the designs were refined for more and more speed, spreading more and more canvas, because the first boat back to the docks would fetch the highest prices for their catch. The name arose because they would have to use bags of sand as ballast to keep them upright when not filled with their catch.

I sailed two days on the skiffs, and one on the sandbaggers.

The skiffs are, in a word, insane. They are 18 feet long, but their sparred length is somewhere around 40 feet, because of a 14 foot bowsprit and because the main boom sticks out well beyond the transom. They are typically crewed with around 8 people. The spinnaker pole is in 4 sections, kept inside the boat, and needs to be assembled to its full 25 foot (!) length before setting the spinnaker. There are lee cloths sticking up from the gunwale on each side, and if the leeward one gets forgotten when you tack, you sink. If someone shifts their weight the wrong way, you sink. If both sail trimmers are not completely on their game at all times, you sink. I think it is this constant pressure that has allowed the Aussies to develop their exceedingly creative foul language, a sort of linguistic equivalent of Darwin’s finches. I wound up placing second place on Alruth, in light air, and a race win on Aberdare on day two, in a fresh breeze.

The third day, I sailed as part of the American team in a match race against the Australians in the sandbaggers, which seemed absolutely palatial and stable in comparison to the skiffs. We didn’t quite hold our end up, but we did keep it very close, rounding half the marks either overlapped with or less than a length behind the Aussies.

Saturday was a (much needed, by me) rest day, and Sunday all these boats, plus 20 or so other classic boats and yachts, took place in the Hall of Fame’s Wooden Boat Regatta. I sailed with Tom Price, a great local sailor and a friend of Pride for many years, on his wooden Star boat from 1959. We were able to win our class.

As a result of all this, I am very tired and sore and sunburned, and now I have to go back to work.

Signed,

Captain Jordan Smith

Friday, August 11, 2017 — What a lovely home away from home it is for Pride whenever she is able to visit the Chesapeake Bay Maritime Museum (CBMM) in St. Michaels, Maryland!

Like-minded folk for all things Chesapeake Bay historical watercraft have great appreciation for each other’s efforts in the preservation and re-creation of the unique watercraft of the Chesapeake Bay. And so it is a little bit o’ heaven here for the crew of Pride.

The quaint harbor that is St. Michaels is barely deep enough to accommodate Pride‘s draft of around 12.5 feet. Any time a fresh wind from northern directions covers the northern Chesapeake Bay, the normal tidal water levels are disturbed, meaning that they are obstructed and meaning that quite a bit less depth of water can occur. This can cause a wind-related reduced harbor depth situation that either prevents Pride from entering or prevents her from departing. Fortunately, this August visit has not been accompanied by fresh northerly winds to risk Pride not being able to enter the harbor and moor alongside the museum. So she is safely entered & moored. And if the depths reduce during her stay, she is welcome to stay as long as is necessary till a safe passage out of the harbor is available through return of adequate water depth.

The transit from Baltimore to St. Michaels was without the support of a bit of breeze — just about no wind at all. A Chesapeake Bay classic glassy reflective smoothness existed throughout the nine-hour transit of some near 50 nautical miles. That did not prevent the crew from enthusiastically, and with great hopes of a late day breeze, setting all sail save the studding sail and ring tail. It has been since before Boston in June the “gantsle” was set. And it has been a long time since last the mainsail, the main gaff topsail, the jib-topsail and jib were set. So while the wind remained elusive, there was a great swiping away of crew-cobwebs regarding setting and striking and re-harbor-stowing all sail.

Around 7 p.m. Thursday night, the approach of “lower high water” at St. Michaels predicted to occur at 7:27 p.n., Pride entered and proceeded very slowly to her berth alongside the southern bulkhead of the museum, with around a foot of water under her keel. A small group of welcomers attended her arrival. By 8:30 p.m. all was secure and the crew could really settle back to admire what is most admirable about St. Michaels: a late quiet summer evening with recently full moon crossing the sky and a waterfront park band’s music drifting over the harbor as various types of recreational and private commercial vessels proceeded quietly about, while other vessels lay quietly moored presenting a complicated old style skyline profile in the dwindling light.

Today is the first of a three-day stay open to visitors to the museum. A start to the weekend build-up ahead of Sunday’s crescendo, Watermen’s Appreciation Day, a near “carny” festival of all things waterman, celebrating their profession as they also display their watercraft. One of the more dramatic demonstrations being the deadrise boat docking competitions — highly powered and maneuverable motor vessels of the Chesapeake Bay deadrise type all but slamming their way to the fastest/quickest mooring into a boat slip. This is something that can only be appreciated by seeing …

Signed,

Captain Jan C. Miles

Photo of Pride of Baltimore II in St. Michaels, Maryland, on August 12, 2017, courtesy of Tim Ertel.

A Day in the Life

We write a lot about the big things we do: races to Bermuda in big wind, huge festivals with thousands of people, and the like. Those things are, deservedly, the highlights of a given season, and a large part of why we do what we do. However, the life of this vessel and her people is mostly not things like that. It is, in part, preparation for (and repairs from) things like that, through constant maintenance, upgrade, repair, and many small refinements, but it is also the fulfillment of the rest of the ship’s mission: interacting with the public, representing our state, and educating the youth of this area. What follows is an example of what a day aboard ship is like, here in our home port of Baltimore.

A Maintenance Day

A large portion of our days any given season are, of course, taken up with operating the ship. This might consist of traveling to a new port, hosting a charter, doing a public day sail, participating in a race, attending a government function or ceremony, et cetera. Interspersed between those days (sometimes all too infrequently) are days when the ship is not engaged to do any particular thing. Almost always, these days are given over to maintenance. Maintenance on a large wooden vessel is constant. Indeed, it very often happens on portions of days in which we are also traveling, or doing a charter, or interacting with the public. But, when possible, we give entire working days to it.

Mid-summer in Maryland, for those of us who work outside the region, is a time to carefully monitor our pace, so we don’t get fried. I used to work for a rigging shop in Annapolis. One of our project managers was a South African emigre. It is very hot there in summer, he had a lot of experience in dealing with this, and so he told us: “Go slow.” So, any given hot work day in July, I tell the crew: “Go slow.”

Our work day typically begins at 8 AM. Already, today, the sky has that coppery hue which promises heat. Pride is at her work dock in Canton. It is a Maryland Port Administration facility, which they very generously let us use as a dock and work site. We have several containers full of spare parts, tools, old sails, and repair materials here. The ship has both her awnings up – this means the deck is shaded from stern to foremast, around 3/4 of her total length, which helps both keep the crew out of the sun and keep the sun off the deck, which in turn keeps it cooler down below by as much as 10 degrees.

The deciding upon and prioritizing of maintenance and repair projects (the “what” and “when”) is primarily done by Pride‘s two captains, after either seeing things for ourselves or conferring with the ship’s officers. The day to day management of the crew in carrying these things out (the “who” and the “how”) is done by our first mate, Jeff Crosby, though it is fair to say there is some overlap here, a sort of three circle Venn diagram. On this particular day, Jeff assigns the crew the following projects:

• Stripping the varnish off the caprail. The maintaining of the ship’s varnished surfaces (“brightwork” in nautical parlance) is a constant job. UV sunlight eventually wrecks the varnish, it dulls and then peels, after which the sun attacks the wood beneath. So, periodically, we lightly sand and add another coat to the existing varnish. This works well for a while, but after a few years the ever-thickening coats of old varnish tend to yellow and fade. This process from day to day is not noticeable. It changes at such an incremental rate that you can’t see the difference unless you look at old pictures. But, we did. This led us to completely strip a small surface to bare wood and re-coat it. The difference was striking. Instead of faded and yellowish, the wood was a deep, rich reddish blonde, showing the intricacies of the wood grain – absolutely beautiful. Having thus made a good spot, it was resolved to do the entire caprail (the rail that runs atop the bulwark around the perimeter of the ship). So, several crew are using heat guns (essentially, supercharged hair dryers) to heat the old varnish til it melts, and scrapers to remove it. After that, the bare wood is sanded to make it ready to begin coating with fresh varnish.

• Tarring the rig. There is a common thread thus far: protection. Our standing rigging is mostly galvanized wire. To protect it from corrosion, we coat it with a tar mixture. Sometimes this nasty stuff is laid directly onto the wire (as with the forestays) and sometimes, when a given piece of rigging is originally made, the wire is wormed, parceled, and served first (as with the shrouds) to provide additional protection. “Worming” is laying small stuff (string, basically) into the spiraling gap between the wire strands to provide a smooth surface, “parceling” is wrapping the wire with strips of some flat stuff like canvas or sometimes friction tape, and “serving” is tightly wrapping the whole works with marline. This is a process that has been around in the world of sailing ships for a long, long while, and it is still effective. After this is done (if it is done) the whole works is tarred, to provide a final, protective seal. Tall ships have “gearheads” as ardent as any motorcycle club, and one of the things up for constant debate is the best mixture for tar. Most often, it is varying proportions of tar (preferably Stockholm tar, but it’s pricey) linseed oil, turpentine, and Japan drier, though I’ve heard of plenty of variations. If asked to evaluate on the basis of workability, longevity, and the like, I can’t seem to tell one variation of this witch’s brew from another, which is probably why the ardent debate continues. Just like any other protective coating, it wears out, and we add more coats, getting very, very dirty in the process.

• Replacing running rigging. Kelsey Mullin, who many of you have probably seen pictures of climbing here and there in our rig, is the bosun. This is an old term, a bowdlerization of “boatswain.” Bosuns, in tall ships, are usually responsible for the ship’s small craft and rigging. The rig involves periodic inspection and a nearly constant effort to control and deal with the effects of chafe and UV sunlight. Today, Kelsey is replacing our foresail sheets with new line. Over time, the old line loses its strength due to UV damage, and gets worn out from constantly rubbing its way through blocks, chafing on nearby rigging, getting walked on, having salt crystals worked into the fiber, et cetera. Replacing the line, in this case, involves un-stringing the old stuff from its four part purchase, measuring its overall length, splicing loops where needed into the new line, and re-leading the whole thing.
• The engineer. Charles Reynolds is our engineer this year, and was for half of last year. Pride, though she is very traditional in her hull shape and rig, has a lot of modern equipment crammed below her deck. Charles spends a fair amount of time waist deep in this compartment or that, making sure it all works, with occasional breaks to pester me for parts. Today, he is fixing our fresh water system.
• The “duty.” Every day, regardless of what we do, a member of the crew does what’s called “the duty” (with suitable overtones of dread). Everyone in the crew except for the captain, the first and second mates, and the cook, rotate through doing this. It is basically the cleaning and organization of the cabin spaces – assisting the cook with the dishes, cleaning the galley, mopping the floor, wiping down other surfaces, polishing the copper flashing behind the stove, cleaning the heads, and so on. This takes a significant portion of the day. Whoevers turn it is spends a large portion of the day below, therefore. Often, but not always, they pick good music to play while they work. Yesterday, for instance, I went to get a glass of ice water and was treated to “Misty Mountain Hop” playing in the salon, which made me happy.
• And me? I observe it all, I offer guidance when needed, I work on filling our upcoming deckhand slots, I code receipts, and I write to you nice people.

Signed,

Captain Jordan Smith

The Rocket’s Red Glare

We’ve all heard the National Anthem hundreds of times, and those of us who live and work in Baltimore have all passed Fort McHenry hundreds of times. This low, black topsail schooner, with her unique profile, is often part of the scenery of Baltimore’s Inner Harbor. Unless we are mindful, these things, and the many other relics of our nation’s origins that stick up out of our physical and mental landscape here and there like dinosaur bones, will lose their meaning, buried under their own commonness. Each of these three things has a story all their own, that interlocks with the others, and also interlocks with the history of this city.

The Fort

Often, we have Scott Sheads, a retired Fort McHenry ranger and great friend of Pride, aboard for our day sails. I have never met anyone as deeply versed in the history of this city as Scott is. He tells us that Fort McHenry was the guardian of the city from 1812 to 1815, when the city was a collection of low buildings, largely centered in Fells Point, along a wide tidal river fringed with salt marsh. Eventually, by the time of shortly before the Civil War, the city grew around and past its former guardian, necessitating a new guardian, Fort Carroll, which was partially completed by a Colonel Robert E. Lee of the U.S. Army Corps of Engineers before his life got complicated. By that time, of course, Fort McHenry was in no danger of being dismantled and its land repurposed. It was, and indeed remains, a national landmark. Because of:

The Battle

Most people know the basic story. The British sent a large fleet up the Chesapeake Bay to attack Baltimore. A young lawyer, Francis Scott Key, was a spectator aboard a British warship anchored in the harbor. After a night of bombardment, the sight of our national flag still flying from the Fort Mchenry the next morning led him to pen several stanzas of verse, which, when later set to music, became our National Anthem. The bombardment was unsuccessful. This, combined with a stalemate nearby at the land battle of North Point, made the situation untenable for the British, so they withdrew. But…what were they doing here? Why send a large fleet (and an army!) all the way up a narrow estuary to bombard a town that, by European standards, was pretty modest in size? The answer, in part, was:

The Ships

These ships, these low, sleek, sharply raked ships with their towering masts, once dotted this river by the dozens. Shipyards in Fells Point (which may be, visually, the most unchanged area of this city), like Thomas Kemp’s, kept building and building them, ever pushing the envelope of sharper hull, loftier spars, more sail, more speed. Speed, for them, was life. We sail Pride of Baltimore II fast because, well…we can. We sail her fast to evoke those historic vessels, products of the Chesapeake and of this city, that she represents. We sail her fast to compete, to show the modern world what a marvel these vessels were 200 years ago, and still are today. The fellows who sailed these vessels, Comet, Catch Me Who Can (I mean, what a name, right?) the famous Chasseur, and many others, did so for profit and to assist the war effort, but also for their freedom (not “freedom” as in political freedom, but freedom as in avoidance of prison), and often enough for their very lives. I’m motivated enough to drive Pride of Baltimore II hard just by the joy of competition, just to win a race. Imagine a race where it was death or prison if you lost.

My dad, a sailor and a lover of history like me, has this image of an 1812 privateer captain that he says I should try to emulate. I quote him roughly: “I always picture these guys as wearing a filthy peacoat, with a vest and tie or neckcloth underneath, and a bowler hat. They stalk the deck with a steely glare, as the ship flies along under a huge cloud of canvas, everything stretched to the breaking point. The crew takes an occasional fearful glance aloft, but all the captain says to them is “Drive her, boys. Drive her.”

A little silly, yes? It was meant to be. But it becomes less so when you look over the captain’s shoulder, over a couple of miles of white-capped sea, at the pursuing British frigate. Those men in their filthy peacoats and bowler hats, sailing out of this city, won those races often enough, for profit, as a war aim, and for their lives, that the British saw eradicating the shipyards that built their fast ships here in Baltimore as an important enough goal to sail a huge fleet here and try to blast their way into the city. And the image of those ships, that unique shape that struck fear into their prey and frustration into their pursuers, endured long enough for this city to build two of them more than a century and a half later.

All of this, by the way, clicked together as a tale to tell as I sat on Pride last night, and watched a red rocket burst over Fort McHenry.

Signed,

Captain Jordan Smith

Date: Tuesday, June 20, 2017

Sail Training International’s Rendez-vous 2017 Bermuda to Boston race results are now official: 1st place in Class B goes to Pride of Baltimore II.  

(…and the crowed roared…joke…maybe the roar we imagined merely whispered in our minds …).

2017 back-to-back 1st place wins by Pride of Baltimore II are now recorded in international tall ship sail training race history (via two Captains who alternated between the two races). No other American sailing vessel participating in international tall ship races has Pride’s record of 1st in class stretching back to her first 1st Class B win in the millennium year 2000 transAtlantic (eastbound Nova Scotia to England) tall ship sail training race.  

In the 2000 race, as well as in the 2009 Bermuda to Charleston race, and in these two recent races (Charleston to Bermuda and Bermuda to Boston) Pride was the first of the larger vessels, as well as the first traditional wood constructed and oldest rig style vessel in the racing fleet to cross the finish (she models the American Baltimore Clipper of the War of 1812 privateer fame). But she was not the first competitor to finish ( except for the 2017 Charleston to Bermuda race when Pride was actually the first vessel to cross the finish line). The vessels that led Pride across the finish line have all been the smaller, shorter, more modern 20 and 21-century sloops and ketch rigged vessels. Being shorter, they are to be complimented for besting Pride’s longer waterline. Being a much heavier vessel, I think Pride can be complimented for staying as close as she did to the smaller, lighter, and more modern vessels.  

Setting aside, for the moment, any pride in performance, even more to be celebrated is the more than half a century of these international sail training tall ship races. They have been and continue to be wonderful cross cultural & cross national adventures by those of all ages (15 years and more) who have the gumption to do something very few others have the gumption to do.

Sailing traditional and modern sailing vessels is not for the faint of heart. It is not about risk, however – sailing is one of the safest group activities around. But it does take gumption to be willing to go beyond one’s imagination of a sea-going voyage and actually do it and commit to going. A great deal of separation from the norm of societal opportunities occurs when one goes voyaging over the horizon beyond the sight of land aboard a sail training tall ship. It’s crowded with little privacy. You are disconnected from everyday communication with friends and family. Collaboration and group challenges with shipmates, most often previously unknown to you, happen day and night repeatedly and uninterruptedly for as long as it takes – could be for a few days to as long as a month. You are doing something you have little to no previous familiarity with, while being instructed and led by a core group of professional crew, who are fully interested in sharing their knowledge and experience.

So there you are – out of sight of land, extending the time from your last shower to your next shower. Shoulder to shoulder, elbow to elbow, hip to hip with others who are your shipmates, responding together to the unforgiving sea and always changing weather elements in a vessel heaving and lurching to the motion of the sea – using those elements to get to the finish line sooner than the rest of the fleet. An international fleet can number from more than a half dozen vessels to over one hundred participating vessels ranging in overall lengths from a little less than 50 feet to over 300 feet, all making the same effort to get to the finish, through changes in seagoing weather, ahead of the others to win the bragging rights and self-satisfaction for overcoming the strangeness of new challenges in a long proven, many centuries old, means of transportation. Don’t forget the importance of making and cleaning up meals three or more times a day no matter the conditions and the motion, as well regular daily (or more frequent) cleaning of other facilities used by all aboard, and keeping your own stuff in your own space aboard a universe limited by length, breadth, and depth shared by as many as can be fit aboard.

While competitive performance is fun, the record established in a history of records is wonderful…what is best and most fundamental, are the successes of the very small isolated “island” societies that are the individual vessels with their crews of many ages & nationalities, most of whom have not been to sea at all before, successfully managing their vessels safely to the end of the race. Ending up in the destination port is a great celebration for the safe and vigorously accomplished sailing adventure from the previous port, gaining new friends from those that used to be strange shipmates along the way.

And so a toast…

Hail to the accomplished crews of Sail Training International’s Rendez-vous 2017!

Signed,

Captain Jan C. Miles