The first day of the season
Snow — you’ve got to be kidding me. Is this an unfunny April Fools joke? I came aboard this morning early, by myself. Dragging the gangway across the wharf I was reminded of an alumni’s comments about a snowy gangway being a “Lunenburg bobsled”. Bob sledding was added to the Olympics in 1924 so maybe Capt. Angus and his crew, excited by a new sport, pushed a gangway along a wharf. I was not so excited as I pivoted the length of the gangway perpendicular to the wharf and the ship.
Winter work in the off-season
The last log: down-rigging and winterizing Bluenose II
Back to Lunenburg for more public cruises
I’m sitting in the chart room listening to the chatter on deck as visitors question our deckhands. Who, what, when, where, why? How big, long, heavy, what type of wood? The crew are mostly old hands at answering questions now, they forget that a mere three or four months ago they likely couldn’t have identified a Banks schooner from a barque. Life aboard a ship is immersive and all consuming. We often speak a different language; we process time and distance differently and sometimes are lost in life ashore. On a ship, decisions are often made quickly, and consequences are lived with.
As I write, a beautiful double rainbow crowns the ship. Six or eight small boats crammed with people ‘ooh’ and ‘ahh’ as they take photos of a freshly washed ship anchored just outside their little community. A social media post promises Bluenose pub night ashore with live music and cold beverages. As we made our way up Chedabucto Bay, we were followed by 10 or 15 boats who would occasionally break out into cheers as they saw their prodigal daughter/cousin/friend make an appearance on deck.