january sails

8/7/2019 january sails

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From: David Jarman [[email protected]]

Sent: 26 January 2003 08:53

Subject: january sails

from even the most cursory glance at the newspaper front pages over thepast few weeks, it appears the world is ever more interrelated, with the buildup of troops and sleek weapons of mass destruction in the gulf as thephenomenon’s latest catalyst. the port of fremantle, just south of perth andwhere i spent christmas and new year, has played host to a number of american and australian naval vessels recently. technologically, the sleekaircraft carriers have a cold menace; at the human level, their 6,000 or sopersonnel were due to be heading home for a while, not any more. it seemsironic to me that while anti-war protest rallies and email petitions have beenheld and sent around the globe, i have never been so isolated as at timesduring the last month; my world was a hundred foot long or so, and as

independent as you could hope to find. with the end of my trip to this green, red, brown and pleasant land in sight, iran away to sea. though surrounded by very large ships designed to damageor move things in distant lands, in very large quantities, i was on board the‘windeward bound’ as it slipped into the indian ocean from the swan river. enroute to albany on australia’s southern coast, we had two weeks of variedconditions, diverse personalities and invigorating sailing ahead, on board atwo masted tall ship as it circumnavigates the continent. sheltered coves androlling seas, coastal towns and empty horizons, in a self contained mix of wood, canvas, rope and brass. * two hundred years ago, ambitious british explorer and chart maker matthewflinders used the ‘investigator’ to circumnavigate and name terra australis;australia. at a scientific level, his work is astonishingly accurate; egotisticallyspeaking he named what he saw after everyone but himself; politically, thefrench were fishing around at a time when planting enough flags was crucialto a nation’s self interest. in a similar sized ship, but with two dozen rather than 90-odd crew, the windeward bound (www.windbound.com) is following

flinders’s wake, accompanied all the way by ‘the australian’ newspaper’sjournalists (www.theaustralian.com.au), and part of the way by me. now, you might think that a trip like this would be all about finding desertedpockets of fine sand and emerald waters to swim in; of navigating through thenight by the position of the southern cross and other constellations; theremight even be dolphins playing in the bow wave and circling the boat in your vision, while wandering albatrosses and mutton birds skim the surface.maybe you can perceive times when you’d have a three metre following swellbreaking just over your shoulder, as you helm a 105 ton ship happily surfing atover seven knots. i guess i’d love to say it was all like that, but i would be

forgetting the shore leave, guinness and black sambucas in westernaustralia’s oldest pubs; the gourmet meals served from the galley; the wealth



of experiences and backgrounds brought onto the ship through its crew; andthe many small events which peppered the trip. the isolation was at timescomplete, it took 2 days for news to reach us that the nation’s capital was inflames while we were well over 100 miles off shore and 5,000 metres from theseabed. when we did arrive in port, we were the news, from onboard

receptions to the warm welcomes in shops, restaurants and, of course,hostelries. the daily routine of life at sea is governed by your watches, the one on your wrist and the group of people you change sails and scrub decks with. the shipitself never sleeps, and to look in the mirror sometimes you doubt it’s the onlyone – although i avoided any seasickness to compound the glazed look in myeyes. so, you’re woken with half an hour to spare, work out the boat’s coursefrom a) the angle and direction of your berth’s lean in its cosy cabin, and b)just how difficult it proves to get dressed in the gloom without waking anyoneelse and take a judicious trip to the head (toilet) before pulling on wet weather

gear. then four hours of taking a small group of people through white cappedwater as a crimson sunrise catches the few clouds one by one, picks off thetaught square sails on the foremast, and sets the sea on fire. the stars fade,and the black of night gives way to shimmering pale skies and seas of thedeepest blue that will soon offer up tuna for lunch, and small sharks for photographing and putting back. as the day wears on, courses are changed, people climb masts, and sails areset and dowsed accordingly. there came a point in the voyage where not onlywas i remembering which clew to release and which sheet to haul, but myblistered hands were repairing themselves quicker than i could damage them.courses could be set to compass directions, the small ship shrinking beforethe helm’s eyes to a small white disc of numbers and the letters n, e, s and w.alternatively, instructions were issued from the chartroom to keep as close tothe wind as possible without creeping too far and stalling. the disc in front of you expands to horizon, your references are the sails and the wind shifts; for half an hour early one morning, i found myself keeping up with a fresheningbreeze as it swung through 100 degrees or so. landmarks such as capeleeuwin, lighthouses or old whaling stations pass by the port bow, identified bythe latest technology and old fashioned lookouts. such moments of goodsailing, when the boat worked with the elements and rolled rather than

punched through the waves, made the trip. we covered 107 nautical miles inan 18 hour period at one point; i savoured part of the experience with an openair salt water hair wash and shave as a blood red sunset heralded the milkyway and a filling moon. * when it comes to painting the hull, the windeward bound is akin to the forthrail and sydney harbour bridges – finish at one end, start again at the other.through the course of three and half weeks, myself and peter heat-scraped,sanded, under coated and glossed our way along the port and starboard

sides, weaving amongst the rigging to get the most comfortable or photogenicpose, or trusting temporary stages. my finest achievement is the run of gun



ports painted along either side: they may look like just a series of blackrectangles on an ochre yellow background, but in reality they’re many manhours, and a steady hand’s work. i also seem to have inherited my gran’sbrass polishing skills, now finely honed through practise on ship’s wheel, belland compass; she’ll be proud of me.

while the maintenance and upkeep truly never ends, my time on board drewto a close in albany. my hair hasn’t been this blond, without artificialstimulants, in a decade and a half. unfortunately half my sun tan washedaway in the shower this morning though. i left the ship in a worse state than ijoined it, damage having been sustained when 70 mph gusts swept throughthe town’s wind farm and forced the boat onto its moorings; 30 degrees of heel isn’t comfortable at sea, let alone when tied up. the voyage continueshowever, across the bight to kangaroo island and adelaide, on to melbourne,tasmania and back, before journey’s end in sydney harbour – pop down if you’re in the area.

* who knows when next i’ll be within 10,000 miles of those places? i’m almosthomeward bound, a mere handful of trips to the beach ahead of me. david.x

january sails

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