The Long Haul to a Royal Reception
Before I leave the ship in Victoria, Geoff informs me I'm
on as crew to Hawaii and a letter awaits my return home
saying that I’m confirmed all the way to New Zealand. This
gives me a few weeks to set my affairs in order and then rejoin
the ship in Vancouver, B.C. where my friends Kan, Rick,
Trecin and JP give me a great send off. A new set of voyage
crew members is assembled and given die standard briefing,
and I’m assigned to the mizzen mast watch under the able
guidance of Richard (Richie) who is the ship’s most
experienced captain o’ top. This is good as we will soon be
leaving the shelter of coastal waters and headed for the wild
blue yonder. The first three days turn out to be a rough
baptism for the new crew members since a low pressure area
surrounds us with foul weather just when they are getting their
first experience at furling sails on the upper yardarms. One of
the new guys. Chuck, is soon christened Upchuck and escapes
cleaning and maintenance duties for several days. Laura, his
bride of two weeks, is an experienced sailor and does double
duty on cleaning to help cover for him. What a honeymoon.
The mizzen watch is blessed with an outstanding cast of
characters. Besides Upchuck and Laura there’s Axel, a gentle
German giant who lives in Switzerland and travels
internationally for business and pleasure, Rob, a former junkie
turned sagacious California surfer boy, Fran, who has known
the ship since its inception and can bore you to tears with
minutia, Terry, a metal sculptor and graphic artist. Jack, a
musician, actor and story teller with a great sense of timing,
Kristin, a nineteen year old who has all the maturity of a
nineteen year old and is soon dubbed ‘princess” by our watch
mates, but who also has a tremendous potential for personal
growth over the next eight months she’ll be on board, and Vic,
a maritime museum curator from Ottawa, Canada who shares a
wealth o f knowledge on Janies Cook, the Endeavour and
various related subjects with terrific humor and insight.
Finally there’s Tom Jones, our very own supernumerary who
pays twice what the rest o f us pay to be on board and doesn’t
have to do any of the work. He is a historian teaching at a
California college in Eureka, with whom I share a special
interest in facets of Mayan culture. Tom presents a fascinating
lecture from his thesis on the origin of the word shark in the
English language as derived from the Mayan word for this
formidable creature. He accomplishes this by tying together
historical encounters between English traders and Mayan
inhabitants along the Caribbean coast of Central America.
Following the initial days of motoring in bad weather
lightened only by the play of dolphins at our bow and a
congealing sense of camaraderie amongst the crew, the sun
breaks through and puts a sparkle on the surface of the cobalt
depths. Nimble fingers unfurl the sails, yardarms are braced
around to the wind, bowlines are cast off, clews, bunts and
reefs are eased and halyards and sheets hauled. The ship
responds with grace and a palpable sense of pride as we set our
heading at 190 degrees south by south-west. The ships seems
like home now, but I can barley imagine the extent to which
this must be true for the captain and many o f the permanent
crew who have been with her for years. Nevertheless, I now
run into fewer cannons, winches and other obstructions as I
walk the deck on moonless nights, and I fall asleep quickly
whenever the opportunity arises.
On Saturday, and the end of the first week at sea, the
voyage crew is subjected to a test of our knowledge of the
lines. The test is conducted in the form o f a competition
called a line race wherein each watch is represented in heats by
a single member of the group who must run as fast as they can
to be the first among three to place a hand on the belaying
cleat or timberhead of a named line, such as the clew line for
the spritz topsail. If you can imagine a deck that has three
different elevations and a maze of obstacles and narrow
passages you might get an inkling of the chaos that ensues.
To top this off we also compete to see who can tie the neatest
gasket coil and accomplish the quickest single timberhead
belay. Once we have thus demonstrated a modicum of
competence the second week begins with a new twist. Each
watch selects four people to serve sequentially as captain o’
top for three day stints. I draw the third lot and although I’ve
got the lines well memorized the effect of being on center
stage in a command position is unnerving, to say the least.
The frenzy o f trying to hear, discern and relay the chain of
shouted commands coming down from the captain, first mate
and second mate can be intense if not disorienting. It’s a
heavy responsibility with the timing and sequence of the
commands that you pass on to your watch crew being critical
to the safety of the ship and all those on board. Laura and Jack
draw the first two lots and with the support and team spirit of
the entire watch we all manage to stumble through the
experience without too much embarrassment Since Jack’s
turn ends on Saturday night. Captain Blake issues us a “well
done” award in the form of a bottle of Port. This lasts about
as long as it takes us to make a few choice toast and to note
that the libation comes from Australia and bears the name
Blake's Port. Does the captain have a side business we didn’t
know about?
Richie, having been temporarily retired as our captain o’
top, is heavily involved in ship’s maintenance along with
other members of the permanent crew, but not to the total
demise of his passion for fishing. Early on he catches a
couple of blue fin tuna and later, as we get further southwest,
he lands a Mahi-mahi that shimmers bright yellow on the deck
until it quickly fades to a gray death. The prize catch of the
voyage is an Ahi measuring well over three feet in length. Jo
prepares a visually delightful platter of sashimi for our day of
rest Sunday Brunch. Sunday means we don't have to stow our
hammocks away, nor engage in any of the regular cleaning and
maintenance rountines. This is a most welcome break for all
concerned and a chance to read or just laze about on the sunny
decks that normally challenge us to find new limits to what we
think we are capable of doing
W e’re into the second week and the wind gods have taken
their act somewhere else According to the weather maps
received via satellite we escaped die Pacific Northwest just in
time to avoid a major storm that’s dumping high winds and
rain on Vancouver and the Seattle area Here, we have sunny
days ;uid starry nights, but no wind. So to lighten moods,
danqiened by the drone of diesel engines, we stage a show
night wherein each watch and the idlers (scurvy curs and other
permanent crew members) choose a costume theme and clash
in heated competition of college-bowl-like questions and
answers moderated by Dierdre and Dominique, both of whom
are dressed in slinky dresses of dubious origin My watch
became the Mighty Mizzen Molly Mop Heads to acknowledge
our reputation of excellence on cleaning detail. Early in the
third week (when things become truly desperate as Rob, Axel
and I spend days precariously perched on yardarms and the
bowsprit sanding, painting and oiling) an evening is devoted to
a “suds opera”. That’s Aussie for soap opera. Again each
watch and the idlers don scraps of costumes conjured from now
warped, but still fertile imaginations and proceed to make total
asses of ourselves. The Idlers manage a rather contrived
rendition (humor being a relative tiling) of Star Wars, while
we of the mizzen mast performed a medley of oldies but
goodies from the 50’s, 60’s and 70’s with brand new nautical
lyrics. Think about the tune to ‘Maria’ from ‘West Side
Story’ and plug in “Endeavour. . . Endeavour. .. I just met a
ship named Endeavour”. That’s the mild stuff. Much of the
rest of our dubbed lyrics are unprintable in tliis ‘family”
oriented journal. What may seem like hyper-silliness to land
bound folks becomes perfectly normal behavior after a certain
time at sea. No apologies made.
One positive tiling about motoring in the middle of the
Pacific is that you can shut the engines off on a whim and
stop. If you’re under sail it takes a lot of time and effort to
come to a halt. So when the captain tells Wally to cut the
engines and we drift to a stand still, everyone is a bit quizzical
until he give the command loud and clear over the speaker
system. . . 'THE POOL IS OPEN.” As everyone makes a
dash for their lockers to don swimsuits the captain adds an after
thought. . . “remember when you’re out there swimming that
the closest piece o f ground is three miles below you, so stay
close to the ship” For the next hour or so the world stands
still while we dive and splash and frolic in Neptune’s personal
playground.
During die second half of the voyage our course sticks close
to 210 degrees and tliis brings us right through the Alenuihaha
Channel off the northern tip of the “big island”, Hawaii,
adjacent to Maui. For the last three days we have a strong
favorable wind and the ship tops eleven knots as the mast and
bow sprit strain and we set a new speed record for the
Endeavour. Then rounding the northwest comer of the island
we lose the wind and end up motoring down to Kealakakua
Bay Here we anchor where die Coast Guard indicates we
should, but we are soon confronted by local marine wildlife
enforcement agents who threaten to cut our anchor line if we
don’t move away from the coral reefs. We oblige as quickly as
possible and then the captain announces once again that the
pool is open It seems strange being so close to land In the
morning I join a party o f five others in the zodiac to go ashore
widi wire brushes, paint brushes and buckets of paint to clean
and dress up the Captain James Cook Memonal which is
located a few yards from where the great explorer was killed in
1779. Meanwhile half the ship’s company is shuttled ashore
to attend a church service in die village, complete with hula
dancing and traditional chanting When the painting duty is
finished we return to the ship to find it transformed. Local
girls greet us with leis and the ship is crawling with
dignitaries and Hawaiian Chiefs who are being feted to a lavish
meal on board I get to speak with one of die council of Chief
members and his spiritual adviser. Their message is one of
reconciliation and a hope for recognition of their hereditary
rights to their lands and customs. I have mixed personal
feeling about being perceived, by my mere presence as crew on
the Endeavour Replica, as a representative of Cook’s arrival,
but this fades as Captain Blake and the Chiefs acknowledge
each other with simple heart felt dignity, embraces and the
touching together of foreheads. Once die hoopla is finished
and the assembled VIP’s and dignitaries have departed, the
captain’s voice rings out widi the now familiar refrain. .. ’’the
pool is open”, and he dives overboard in ltis full white dress
uniform. The rest of are close behind. Or so we can hope.
Enjoy the peaceful beauty
and natural surroundings o f
"Willapa B ay a n d the north
end o f the Cong Beach 'Peninsula.
F E A T U R IN G T H E C U IS IN E
DUANL JOHNSON
R IA L IS T A T I
of Rosio A riste
O P E N IN G FO R D IN N ER S
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