SAILING THE SUNNY CANARIES IN THE STS LORD NELSON

Eric Vischer

What was square-rigged sailing all about, what were disabled people doing on a sailing ship, and how would I cope sailing with them as fellow crew?

These were some of the questions I asked myself when I decided to book a passage on the barque STS Lord Nelson (three-masted, with two masts carrying square sails and the third, fore-and-aft sails). A good time was during the Christmas/New Year period while the ship is in the Canaries and it's cold in England. So just before New Year, I found myself at Gatwick on a wet, wintry day, taking off on a flight to Las Palmas with just the bare necessities for sailing -- all equipment, bedding and foul weather gear is provided. The four hour flight gave me time to finish my homework on all the new ropes required to control the sails of the Lord Nelson - this from a very useful booklet A Guide for Voyage Crew, sent to all crew members when booking. I had expected the sail names to be somewhat bewildering but was not prepared for the radically different names. Very little evidence of `sheet' and `halyard', instead `buntline', `brace' and `clewline' prevailed.

In addition to the square sails -- the `course', `t'gallant' and `royal' -- the barque has many modern fore-and-aft sails like jibs and staysails, plus other fore-and-aft sails called `spankers' on the mizzen. Because they are so large the sails are not stowed below, but remain in place on, or in, the yards (square sails), against the mast (spankers) or, alternatively, roller-furled (staysails, jibs t'gallants and royals). This makes it easy to hoist and hand the sails and, only in the case of the four, lower square sails, is it necessary for crew to go aloft to handle the sails. This makes it possible for the disabled members of the crew to play a full part in manning the ship. 179ft 5in in length and displacing 490 tons, she was designed by Colin Mudie and built in 1986, to allow people with all types of disability to sail, and includes lifts to take wheel-chair users between decks. A gangway runs out to the end of the bowsprit to allow wheelchair users to work on the jib tacks if required or, simply, to watch the bow cutting through the sea.

On arrival at Las Palmas we were taken by mini-bus to Puerto Rico, to find the ship bathed in the light of numerous spotlights. We were warmly welcomed by Captain Mark Kemmis-Betty, OCC, and shown to our various sleeping places, some in the forepeak where the bunks are stacked three-high or, as in my case, to double-decked cabins -- the lower bunk for a disabled crewman and the upper for his `buddy' (the idea being that I would assist my cabinmate with any aspect of shipboard life should he need it). He had restricted use of his arms and legs and, although able to walk a little, was more stable in a wheelchair, specially on deck and in rough seas.

Everyone is given a card on arrival to indicate the watch they are assigned to -- eg. Forward Starboard, Aft Port, etc -- how the rotating watches `walk' throughout the duration of the voyage, and also indicating which 24-hour period will be Mess Duty (all voyage crew are expected to do exactly the same in terms of watches and mess duty).

We made each other's acquaintance and met our watch leader, Simon, before being called to the lower messroom for the first of many briefings on the way the ship is run and, most importantly, the safety drills in the case of fire or hull damage. We were also introduced to the ten permanent crew members and the two volunteer bosun's mates, Haydn, a Welsh dairy farmer, and Andries, a Dutch medical student, who were to give us a lot of guidance and help. The first night we had a barbecue on the quayside with the meat prepared by Marcus, the engineer (cook's night off?), and drinks bought from the well-equipped ship's `honesty' bar. This enabled us to spend time getting to meet our fellow crewmen and build up some of the camaraderie that was to prove so strong by the end of the week. Here we first got to grips with the problems faced by our disabled crewmates -- using a rope to get wheelchair users down a steeply sloping gangplank, and assisting Phillip and Martin, the two blind crewmen and Jean, partially-sighted, down to the quayside and helping them find the food they wanted. The first evening went so well in the warmth of the near-tropical night that it was well after midnight before we made our way back on board.

Puerto Rico (Gran Canaria) to Morro Jable (Fuerteventura) -- 103 Miles

Below decks, the heat and the unfamiliar bunk made sleep rather patchy and I wasn't fully rested when Robin prodded my bunk from beneath at 0630! We had the 0800-1230 watch which meant we had to take early breakfast. The morning found us in another briefing about safety and shipboard routines and then, after morning `smoko' (coffee or tea and biscuits break), a safety drill was followed by preparations for departure. It was a lovely sunny day, but without much wind. The departure task I was assigned was to assist Haydn, the bosun's mate, lay the anchor chain neatly back into its locker deep in the bowels of the ship, a task which was not completed until after we had cleared the harbour entrance -- ah well, someone had to do it! My watch was still `on' so we reported to the bridge with Simon, our watch leader, for lessons in steering and in completing the log. We motored some way out to sea in windless conditions but in the early afternoon all hands were called to `bracing stations' -- the position on deck where the bracing ropes are secured. Here we were shown how to pull the huge yards -- four on each of the two forward masts -- around from port to starboard in order to tack or wear (gybe) the ship.

We had received booklets with our booking confirmations explaining how the ship is run and where all the ropes are belayed -- tied off on their pin rails, but I learned far more quickly using the ropes and sails for real. Here, too, we learnt the teamwork commands -- no winches on this ship, and all crewmembers whether in wheelchairs or blind, literally pull together: `TWO, SIX, HEAVE ... TWO, SIX, HEAVE ... WELL!' (meaning `enough'), `ease to the pin, come up' (meaning, let the rope fall). We hoisted the fore and main topsails and the fore course, together with the fore and main t'gallant and the inner jib, from the `sail setting stations' further forward along the main deck. This helped us to make 6 knots in what became a fairly choppy sea (and which caused a number of crew to drop out due to the dreaded mal de mer). This, and a case of flu, severely effected my mess duty mates when I took over at 1500 -- two were rather ill and the other was soon replaced by Joan, an experienced crewperson. However Andries was a great help and told us exactly where to find everything, so, following afternoon smoko, we took over the dinner preparations. Setting of the two messroom tables was required, then an early dinner was served to us by the bosun's mate and Roisin, the medical purser, followed by cleaning up after ourselves and re-laying the upper messroom tables for the permanent crew, and then going down to the lower messroom to serve the rest of the voyage crew (many of whom either didn't turn up for dinner or ate very little).

The food was excellent and plentiful and I heard few complaints during the week-long voyage. After clearing away following dinner we put all the utensils in a dishwasher (oh, what a boon!), clean out the galley and put everything back in place before retiring, wearily, to our bunks -- one of the advantages of being on mess duty is that are excused night watch. So, come 0630 next morning, I was awakened by a member of the morning watch, not even having been aware that the ship had dropped anchor at 0400 off Morro Jable on Fuerteventura. After a quick wash it was back to the messroom to prepare for another invasion for breakfast -- by everyone was feeling a lot better -- tidying up afterwards and then preparing huge rolls for the beach picnic. During the morning the rigid inflatables were lowered onto the water and a davit prepared for lowering the wheelchair users down to them. All who wished could go ashore, across to the deserted beach, for games or a swim.

Morro Jable to Gran Tarajal (Fuerteventura) -- 16 Miles

Events ashore were progressing well when we arrived with the lunchbox containing sandwiches and drinks. Some were swimming, others sitting in the sun, others trying to find some shade, and yet others fooling around with beach balls and frisbees. The someone had the bright idea of playing French cricket with a cricket bat and beach ball. This became very exciting and inspired Philip, who is blind, to have a go -- so it became even more hilarious as we instructed him as to who had the ball and when they threw it. Another person then told him when to lash out, and lash out he did! Sometimes he got it right, but other times completely wrong so that a spadeful of sand flew towards an unsuspecting player.

It was soon time to weigh anchor and motor-sail towards our next destination, Gran Tarajal. During this passage the man-overboard alarms suddenly began ringing and, before we knew it, we were into full MOB drill. Soon the dinghy was overboard and speeding away towards the `casualty' and, within four minutes, a radio message was received from the rescuers to say that the `casualty' had been recovered -- excellent work!

We arrived at Gran Tarajal at 1800 on New Year's eve. We went ashore after dinner to have a few drinks and look around, but the Spanish habit of closing early on New Year's eve meant that, after I had bought some drinks and then went off to call home, by the time I returned the cafe was closed and my untouched beer had been cleared away! By 2130 nothing was left open, so back to the ship for the main celebration until 0200, when some of us decided it was time to investigate what had re-opened ashore. Sure enough, one place was serving drinks and playing music, so we had to dance! It was about 0415 before I returned with Claudette, also on my watch, to find the Lord Nelson beautifully lit up for the night and Doctor Ernie on harbour watch, almost unrecognisable in a strange straw hat, `repelling' borders.

Gran Tarajal (Fuerteventura) to Playa Blanca (Lanzarote) -- 61 miles

Departure from Gran Tarajal took place after breakfast. I was left ashore to help get the gangway back aboard and to let go the warps. After re-boarding -- the dinghy had been left behind to pick us up -- we were quickly called to bracing stations as there was a force 3-4 blowing, in the wrong direction of course but it was good to be sailing again! Back to shipboard routine which included, every morning after breakfast when, an hour when all hands cleaned ship from top to bottom. Each day the watches are rotated, so that one day you scrub the decks and clean the outside of the accommodation and the next you clean toilets, floors, woodwork and brass inside.

The wind did let us down, eventually, late in the afternoon just after we'd been taught how to tack the ship. We were fast approaching land when we tried to put into practise what we'd learnt and, at Captain Mark Kemmis-Betty's command of `helms a-lee; main yards bracing to starboard -- let go and haul' we hauled for all we were worth. But, after turning rapidly at first, then hovering ever so agonizingly, the Lord Nelson started falling off again and we were thrown, unexpectedly, into a `wearing ship' situation for which we had not yet received instruction! Nevertheless, under guidance from the bosun's mates and commands from the captain, we slowly achieved the desired tack -- learning by experience!

We dropped anchor at 2200 and I managed a fairly early night before having to get up for the 0400-0600 anchor watch -- very boring in essence, though various people have to be woken including the cook, the mess duty crewmen, the next watch and other members of the permanent crew. Also the ovens need to be switched on, so that gives it some interest, plus the rising of a very bright Venus and, eventually, the Sun. Radar with a very sophisticated viewing screen is extensively used in the Lord Nelson, making anchor watch very straightforward -- just keep three conspicuous points within certain bearings, and if the ship strays outside those parameters call the officer of the watch. The instructions are clearly written down for all watchkeepers to read. After breakfast we again prepared the dinghies and davits, to allow people ashore for a stroll around the town and beaches and to have a meal ashore for a change. What weather -- brilliant hot sunshine -- and what a view of the ship peacefully anchored offshore on a sparkling sea!

Playa Blanca (Lanzarote) to Puerto Mogan (Gran Canaria) -- 129 Miles

We were all back on board by afternoon smoko, ready to weigh anchor for the longest and best sail of all. From Playa Blanca to Puerto Mogan is a distance of 129 miles, downwind past the west side of Fuerteventura, around the north-east corner of Gran Canaria where the wind died, and on to the southern coast of the island. Forward Starboard had the last dog watch from 1800 to 2000 and it was terrific, the ship being pushed along at a steady 5-7 knots with just a sickle moon showing above the fore course yard, the lights from the settlements on Fuerteventura twinkling in the distance, and a sky filled to overflowing with stars, stars and more stars -- this you do not see from your back garden in London! I wanted to stay out a little longer after my watch but there was a lot of activity down in the bar, with Carole from Switzerland playing her piano accordion and Richard, the third mate, entertaining us with his excellent guitar accompanied by the lyrical singing of Irish Roisin, the medical purser -- how one gets pulled from one attractive option to another!

By smoko next afternoon we were anchored off the small port of Puerto Mogan. Here we had a chance to learn how to climb up the ratlines and out onto the footropes to stow the square sails on the yards. Some of us were also guided, very patiently, by one of the watch leaders up the mast via the overhanging platforms at each level to the top -- a little scary, but, so long as you concentrate on what you're doing and don't look down, even those who suffer from vertigo should be able to reach the top. Safety harnesses are used throughout and it was particularly exciting watching Philip, one of our blind crewmates, scale the heights. While out on the yards we were taught how to work in unison, bending over the top of the yard to gather up the huge sails hand over hand until they were in a neat roll, then pulling them onto the top of the yard and tying them in place with gaskets.

Next day we all went ashore to have a look at the attractive harbour and have lunch at one of the cafes in the marina. There we sat next to a `gypsy' girl reading palms and Tarot cards, who turned out to come from East Molesey in Surrey. The more cynical among us enjoyed a good laugh while Robin was having his palm read, predicting that she would say `you are about to embark on a long voyage'.

Puerto Mogan to Puerto Rico (Gran Canaria) -- 4.5 Miles

On returning to the ship it was time to weigh anchor for the last leg of the voyage, all of 4.5 miles back to Puerto Rico. It was Forward Starboard's watch at departure and I drew the short straw again, ending up in the anchor chain locker with Claudette, helping to lay out the chain in neat rows under the direction of Andries. At the call of `Anchor fully stowed, all clear and close the locker' from a distant voice up the ventilator shaft we headed back on deck, where the breeze generated by our movement blew gently across our faces. An hour later we were back in Puerto Rico, having covered 315 miles in total. All that remained was to sign off Ship's Articles and to enjoy a final dinner together ashore, then say goodbye to the early departers, with quite a few tears and many regrets that the teams must be broken up after forming such strong bonds.

Conclusions

Well, what were the answers to my initial questions and what did I gain from the experience?

Certainly the experience was a rewarding one, not least because of the obvious joy the disabled crew gained from the experience. What also struck me was the quiet, unpatronizing manner in which the able-bodied assisted and co-operated with the less able. Another striking thing was the complete lack of rivalry, petty bickering or tensions between the crewmembers, which I put down to the fact that we had one aim in common -- to ensure that everyone, particularly the disabled, benefited to the maximum from their time aboard.

I must admit that at first I did feel a little resentful when I discovered how much assistance I was expected to render, followed on the second day by a twenty-four hour spell on mess duty -- all this when I was hoping for a much-needed holiday. However this feeling quickly dissipated after the second day when we got into a regular shipboard routine and had some good sailing. There was so much new to learn and the learning process did not stop until we left the ship -- I found that, in spite of all my study before leaving home, the speed at which I picked things up on board by actually doing them was such that the preparation seemed a waste of time.

What I enjoyed most about square-rigged sailing was the absolute necessity to work as a team in order to achieve even the most basic manoeuvre. Will I do it again? Undoubtedly, yes! And after more training I hope to return as a watch leader. Thanks again to Captain Mark Kemmis- Betty, the permanent crew and The Jubilee Sailing Trust who all made it possible.

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