Voyage on the Sir Winston Churchill ~ part 6

March 1997

Thursday, 27^th March

We arrived in Swanage after travelling across an angry sea, with high winds whipping foam off the waves. As in Fowey we were at anchor rather than moored in a dock, but this time shore leave was impossible as it was far too rough for the small tender to go ashore. Instead, everyone stayed aboard and worked on their acts for the Sods Opera to be held that evening.

After lunch all hands assembled aft for the next part of the inter-watch competition: the quiz. The Mate asked the questions while the Doctor ensured fair play. Each member of a Watch was pitted against their opposite numbers from the other Watches, and were asked questions that involved locating something technical on the ship, or tying a particular knot correctly. Our number 8 Charlotte scored first for us, but the point was disallowed. I was next to score, and this time the point stayed. Throughout the quiz we made an amazing recovery in the rankings. We had been about 8 points down against the other Watches at the start, but by the end we were second to the leaders Main Watch by only one point.

At 2000hrs all were watches were abandoned again, and all hands were called to the afterdeck for the evening’s entertainment. I had been in the galley again, this time on mess duty, so was very glad to be called out. The Watch Officers distributed bottles of Becks to their Watches, and charismatic trainee, Ben, was called upon to be Master of Ceremonies.

The running order for the night was:

Mizzen Watch: ‘Sailing on Churchill’ (I wrote our song to the tune of ‘Waltzing Matilda’. The writing of it compensation for the fact I am so dreadful a singer!)

Ben: reciting a poem he had written

Main Watch: ‘Main Watch People’ (Their song to the tune of Pulp’s ‘Common People’)

Fore Watch: ‘Sailing Over the Sea’ (Their song to the tune of ‘The Animals Went in Two by Two’)

                                      

The permanent crew members then sang a selection of shanties and comical songs. Requests were taken, and a good time was had by all, laughing, joking, drinking and singing in true sailor fashion.

Friday, 28^th March

We upped anchor and left Swanage Bay for our final day of sailing back to Poole. There was an air of sadness as we entered harbour, knowing that the voyage was over and this was to be our final night together aboard the ship. We were to wake up and bang our heads on the ceiling or bunk above us for the last time.

We had our usual tidy up once the springs and mooring lines had been secured. We also had to put up a small marquee on the aft deck as there was to be a cocktail party for the Sail Training Association trustees that night while we all went out in the town.

Once all aboard was ship shape everyone sat down in the marquee for the wash-up, the Captain’s debrief of the voyage. He covered all of the gruesome details, even shaming those seasick individuals who had puked into the wind and “got their own back”! The Doctor had organised a sweepstake for how many nautical miles we would cover during the voyage, and the winner who guessed nearest to the actual total of 623 nautical miles claimed a huge £5 prize. The inter-watch competition results were also revealed: first was Main Watch, followed by Fore Watch, and last but by no means least was my Mizzen Watch. A crate of Becks was awarded to the winners, and silly leaving gifts were also given to the Watch Leaders. More Becks was distributed to the rest of the crew, and everyone hung around taking group photographs and swapping postal addresses.

                                                     

Once everything was finished we all went out, trying to find a pub that would let us all in as we were quite a large group (the Cook’s Assistant was supposed to have booked somewhere, but hadn’t). We were finally allowed in the Poole Arms, so while I settled down to a coke as I couldn’t get served again, although one of the older trainees did smuggle a drink over for me, giving me my first ever taste of a G&T, and two of our Watch went off to buy our Watch Leader’s leaving present of a bottle of rum.

Things got going full-swing, and the night was certainly cheered up when trainees Ben and Gordon arrived in skirts and make up! Soon everyone was drinking and singing, and the 0000hrs end of shore leave quickly came around. Our Watch had clubbed together for a sneaky bottle of rum and some coke though, and our Watch Leader managed to sneak us off ship for a few more hours during the changing of the watch. The revelry continued, and the last of us managed to stagger back aboard at about 0300hrs.

Saturday, 29^th March

We woke up at 0500hrs and just about managed to roll out of bed. We packed all of our things eventually, no mean feat as my bag seemed to have mysteriously shrunk during the voyage, though looking around I wasn’t alone as several others were also jumping on their bags to get them closed.

We had an extra long, extra thorough happy hour, took down the marquee and loaded on fresh stores before signing off and collecting our valuables back from the Purser. Everyone had ordered lithographs of the ship, and we all signed each other’s as a memento of the great time together.

Skippy, who came aboard in St Malo having cycled from Greece to France

Before our Watch signed off we presented Amanda with her token bottle of rum. We then had to hand back our smocks, harnesses and pillowcases to Rupert, the Boatswain’s Assistant, which seemed to prove it really was all over. There were big hugs all round on the quayside as people began to leave to return to their lives on land. My family arrived too to bring me home again, a slightly more worldly teenager than the one dropped at that same quayside just two weeks before.

                                                        

                                                   

Voyage on the Sir Winston Churchill ~ part 5

March 1997

Monday, 24^th March

I was woken at 0600hrs for duty as Boatswain’s Day Worker, during which we were under the command of Rupert, the Boatswain’s Mate. Our Watch hadn’t contributed to Boatswain’s Day Worker up until now as we had been too low on numbers, but with Steve’s arrival we joined the rota. The Boatswain had a scary reputation, so I was relieved that I had missed most of the shift as it had begun prior to our joining the rota. I only had to join in with scrubbing the coach house roof before finishing at 1000hrs, and once this was over I rejoined my Watch on duty.

We were on second dog watch again, but on this occasion cloud spoiled the views of the sunset and the comet. We spent another night out of harbour at sea, heading toward the southern English coast.

Tuesday, 25^th March

         

                          

We arrived in Fowey, Cornwall, around midday, and were given shore leave. We were not in a dock this time but anchored in the middle of the small channel, so the lifeboat and rubber dubby were run as tender, providing a taxi service between ship and shore.

Whilst ashore I wrote more postcards and bought some souvenirs and ice cream before catching the 1600hrs tender back to ship at the end of shore leave.

                                          

                             

We were allowed off again in the evening to once again ‘splice the mainbrace’, and we even had a ship’s party organised. A group of us somehow managed to find the most boring pub in all Cornwall in which to wait for the party to begin at the Galleon Yacht Club, so a few of us moved on to somewhere more lively. We had a few drinks before getting to the party, where I unfortunately had time for only a couple of dances and a quick drink before catching the tender back again for my 2200-0000hrs three-man anchor watch. Once everybody was back again after the party we all sat up a while talking before bed.

Wednesday, 26^th March

More shore leave was allowed in the morning, so we decided to head off for a Watch Cornish cream tea, finding the Victoria Tea Rooms which fit the bill perfectly. Great minds think alike, and within minutes it seemed that half of the ship’s trainees had all found the same place – much to the consternation of the ladies working there, as 20-something of us settled down to delicious tea and scones.

                                            

Our Watch then went for a walk around the small lanes and pathways weaving their way between the houses of Fowey, before returning to the ship. 

                                                  

We had to queue on the beach for a while waiting for space on the tender, and once everyone was back on board we raised the anchors. It was the job of the Boatswain’s Day Workers to work down in the chain lockers as the anchors were raised, and they came up so covered in mud from the anchor chains that they literally had to be hosed down on the deck.

                                             

Before heading back out to sea we first travelled further up the channel to take on more water. The ship carries 35 tonnes of water, but this is soon used up when you have a ‘Happy Hour’ each day (“a clean ship is a happy ship!”) and 55 people need to use the showers and the heads.

Unfortunately we couldn’t leave Fowey in quite the same style as we had arrived as it was too rough to man the yards, but once out of shelter four of us went aloft to set the square sail and the course. I even managed to get a photo of the view from the crow’s nest, the wonkiness of the picture testimony to the roll of the ship in the choppy water.

                                                 

We spent yet another bumpy night at sea, this time headed along the coast for Swanage Bay.

Voyage on the Sir Winston Churchill ~ part 4

March 1997
 

Saturday, 22^nd March

We passed through the Alderney Race during the night, and our Watch had just missed this event when our wake-up call came at 0330hrs for our watch to begin at 0400hrs. We were amply compensated however, as the sunrise we witnessed on this morning was just as stunning as the previous evening’s sunset. The comet and stars gently faded into the light, and the rising sun lit more and more of the foreign coastline ahead.

      

           

The sea was as flat as a mill pond as we continued towards the Bretons coast, so it was decided to practise a man overboard drill. A dummy, affectionately known as the Accountant, was jettisoned and when the man overboard alarm – 7 short then 1 continuous blast on the ship’s whistle – was sounded, all hands rushed to their muster stations. As the dinghy is stowed aft it was our responsibility as Mizzen Watch to launch it, and the Boatswain and Cook went off while the Doctor readied his medical kit. Once the Accountant had been rescued and was safely back on board, our Watch had to hoist the dinghy back aboard and stow it away again.

Our arrival to the walled port city of St Malo in Brittany, northern France, was as spectacular as ever. I got to take part this time as we manned the yards, and we all sang sea shanties that the Mate had taught us during the 0900hrs briefing. And when we ran out of shanties? We just sang any song we could think of! We were up on the yards for about an hour altogether, waiting for the lock gates to open, then close again, the lock to fill, and the gates on the other side open to allow us into the dock.

As we climbed down from the yards a mad/drunk/both Frenchman in a pseudo military uniform provided entertainment by shouting French obscenities and suggesting we did strange things with various parts of our bodies, until the Doctor told him “Je suis bien, merci!” and he walked off, still shouting to himself.

We conducted the usual harbour duties: mooring the ship, putting up the gang plank and doing ‘spaghetti runs’, which involve going around the whole ship and tidying all of the lose ropes into neat coils. We then had the next installment in the inter-watch competition: rowing the lifeboat across the dock and back against the clock. This we also lost, and I must admit that I was a bit disappointed not to be part of our rowing team.

                

Shore leave was allowed until 1500hrs, and a few of us went to visit the old town within the city walls, and changed our money into francs with which to buy postcards and stamps.

Later in the evening we were allowed more shore leave, to return by 2330hrs ship time, so we all went out to the local pubs to ‘splice the mainbrace’. Brittany is one of the Celtic nations, and there were a great many Celtic bars and Irish bars. The two of us crew who were Welsh were made very welcome as fellow Celts, so it was hard to get back for the end of shore leave. On return to the ship I tried to get a little sleep before my next watch.

Sunday, March 23^rd (and our Watch Officer’s birthday)

I was on harbour watch at 0100hrs, then back to bed at 0200hrs. We were woken for breakfast, then given a packed lunch and more shore leave to enjoy the small city before we left harbour to once again head back to sea.

Our number 8, Charlotte, and I took a walk through the town. We stopped in a patisserie along the way for delicious freshly baked snacks, before continuing to the Musee Internationale Du Long-Cours Cap-Hornier in the Tour Solidor. This 14^th century building housed a collection tracing the history of voyages around Cape Horn, including models, nautical instruments and objects made by the sailors during their crossings or brought back from foreign ports. The museum, invoking thoughts of travel aboard extraordinary tall ships at the end of the 19^th and the beginning of the 20^th century, seemed a very appropriate excursion for us.

               

After the museum we made for the small beach, where we sat sunning ourselves while we ate our lunch and wrote our postcards, before heading back to the old town to search for postboxes.

                              

On returning to the ship we discovered that we had acquired a new number 13 for our Watch. Steve had been travelling around the world from his home in New South Wales, Australia. He had bought a bicycle in Greece, and from there he had eventually cycled all the way to St Malo, ready for a ferry to England and the next stage of his journey. Steve had worked as a crew member on chartered tall ships in Canada, and had come over to admire our ship. He had got chatting to the Captain, and as we were short of crew, the Captain had offered him and his bike passage to England which he gladly accepted. A much more fitting end to a cycle journey across Europe!

We left St Malo as spectacularly as we had arrived, with people singing up the yards. Then we set course north again, headed for the Cornish coast.

The weather was turning rougher again, up to force 6 on the Beaufort Scale which means that long waves begin to form, white foam crests are very frequent and some airborne spray is present. The increasing waves meant that there was some more seasickness, although by now most had found their sea legs, and yet again we spent a bumpy night at sea.

Voyage on the Sir Winston Churchill ~ part 3

March 1997

Thursday, 20^th March

It was all hands on deck after breakfast to prepare the ship for leaving port. John and I from our Watch were under the Boatswain’s (Pronounced ‘bosun’) charge to let go the mooring lines from the quayside. The Boatswain is a senior member of the ship’s crew who is responsible for the rigging, anchors, cables, sails, and other items that keep a ship running smoothly. They are like a foreman of the ship's crew, as they issue orders to the deck crew.

As we were left ashore from letting go the moorings, we had to return to ship in the dinghy and climb up the ladder aboard, just like something out of a good pirate film.

Mizzen Watch were duty Watch again, and I was starboard lookout and had to keep watch with binoculars for ships and buoys that were on our course. Technically motor ships should give way to sail, but larger ships such as tankers have such large turning circles that it may not be physically possible for them to change course to avoid us. My job was very important as we were heading into some of the busiest shipping lanes in the world, as we headed away from Weymouth and south, towards the French coast.

The rest of the day was plain sailing as the wind had dropped considerably from the strength of the previous night – so much so that we even had to motor-sail part of the way. We spent our second night at sea, this one much calmer than the first.

Friday, 21^st March

The following day brought another day of plain sailing. The weather was glorious, no-one was sick, and despite being only early Spring most people even got sunburned. As the weather was so fine, the sun so bright, and all but one sail was set we launched the rubber dubby (the ship’s dinghy) and a small party of designated photographers went out with all of the crew’s cameras to take pictures of the ship in her near-full glory.

We did our watches as usual, Mizzen had the second dog watch, from 1800hrs to 2000hrs. Most watches are four hours long, and you would spend one watch period on standby, ready to be called or woken in the event of an emergency, then start duty on the next watch, then have your rest. With three Watches of crew rotating through six work watches in 24 hours, obviously everyone would always be stuck on the same timings each day. Therefore one four-hour period is split into the two dog watches, meaning there are 7 watches in total and the crew rotates onto different timings each day.

We had been up in the rigging setting the square topsail before darkness arrived, and as we were descending the ratlines we were treated to the most beautiful sunset. In the middle of the channel, with no light pollution, the darkness also brought us not only a brilliant array of stars, but also spectacular views of the twin tailed Hale-Bopp’s comet which, although I didn’t know it at the time, was then very nearly at its closest point to the Earth.

We absorbed this spectacular view and enjoyed the calmness for a while, but we didn’t linger too long as by this point we had learned to sleep whenever the opportunity presented itself, so we were all early to bed after watch.

Voyage on the Sir Winston Churchill ~ part 2

March 1997

Tuesday, 18^th March

There were various duties aboard ship that one person from each watch would be detailed to perform on a rota basis, and as number 11 I was woken at 0700hrs on the first morning to work in the galley. The galley rat duties are not much fun – serving food, peeling veg and washing up – so it was good to get this over and done with early on.

We left Poole harbour at 1000hrs in spectacular style, with crew members manning the yards and singing shanties, although us galley rats weren’t able to see from below decks. With the weather conditions as they were we were heading west with the aim of voyaging to Ireland, although where along the coast we would make land was entirely dependent on how the winds held. To begin with the weather was windy but not too rough, however it got choppier as the winds rose and many people were struck with seasickness. I was reminded of my father telling me that there are three stages to seasickness: you think you are going to die, you know you are going to die, you wish you could hurry up and die!

The galley rats had one break before the evening meal so we got fresh air and took some photos of the white cliffs we were leaving behind, however this left us feeling ill on return to the galley. I could only pick at supper after seasickness overcame me, and it was bed at about 2000hrs for me and the other sick galley rat.

Leaving behind the white cliffs of southern England

 

Wednesday, 19^th March

I was woken accidentally at about 0300hrs as Mizzen Watch was urgently needed up on deck, however as a galley rat I wasn’t on Watch duties yet, and so I wasn’t required. When I was woken at 0730hrs for my galley duties (after my disturbed sleep I was late!) I found out that during the night the winds had risen considerably. The Captain had judged that the strong, gale force winds were too much for us, and in the process of wearing ship (turning) in order to return to shelter under the cliffs the sail at the rear, the mizzen sail, had ripped. This was the emergency Mizzen Watch had been called for, as the ripped sail had to be taken down to avoid causing any damage to the ship. We had been forced to return under motor to Swanage Bay on the south coast, where we had anchored in the shelter overnight. 

Later in the morning we continued on under our remaining sails, with the assistance of some motor power, along the coast to Weymouth so we could offload our damaged sail and collect a new one. This was essential as the mizzen is the most important sail for providing power to the ship.

At 1000hrs that morning my galley rat duties came to an end, and it was bye to Ben and Becca my fellow 11s from the other Watches, and hello to my own Watch. I’d missed out getting to know my fellow Watch members and learning about the ship during that first day under sail, but I was still glad to get my galley duties over and done with early on.

On entering Weymouth our Watch was the duty watch, and the two off duty watches got to man the yards as we entered harbour. Our duty was soon over, and the next duty watch had the job of folding the torn sail to carry it off the ship, before loading on the new one.

Folding the new mizzen sail...

... and carrying it aboard

After this we had the first of the inter-watch competitions that were to take place throughout the voyage, beginning with a heaving line contest (which we won) and a tug o’ war (which we lost). In the evening shore leave in Weymouth was allowed from 2000 to 2300hrs, but Weymouth was very strict about age limits in the pubs so unfortunately the only place I could get in, let alone get served in, was a McDonalds!

Inter-Watch tug o' war - our team

A two-man harbour watch was kept up throughout the night with each person on duty for one hour. I headed back to the ship for my hour at 2200hrs, then afterwards sat up in the half deck awhile, getting to know my fellow crew members before bed.

The voyage had not had the most auspicious start, but the winds had changed and it was exciting to sleep listening to the water lapping at the hull of the boat, wondering where the new winds would take us.

Voyage on the Sir Winston Churchill ~ part 1

March 1997

Monday, 17^th March

We met the ship at Poole town quay on Monday 17^th March, and had boarded by 2pm, or 1400hrs as we had to call it, as work on the ship would be a 24 hour affair. We were greeted by members of the permanent crew and the volunteers who we were to be living with on board for the voyage. Upon boarding the ship we were told our watch and watch number, and shown our bunk and locker.

STS Sir Winston Churchill

There were three Watches with 13 trainees, a Watch Leader and a Watch Officer in each. The Watches were named for the ships 3 masts, with their muster stations next to their mast: Fore Watch, Main Watch and Mizzen Watch. I was Mizzen 11 (Z11) and my bunk was next to the female toilets, or heads – yuk! I was in the top bunk, with Z12 and Z13 bunks below me, and opposite were the three Watch Leaders.

My bunk was the top one, lockers were below the bottom bunk and the ceiling was just a few inches above my bunk!

Some of the trainees were late to arrive, so the Captain’s briefing was postponed and instead each Watch did some preliminary training. We learned some ropes, knots, parts of the ship, and went ‘up and over’ – climbed up one side of the ratlines, into the crow’s nest and down the ratlines the other side. When the late trainees finally arrived everybody signed on in order, F1 to Z12 (we were short of crew members and there was no Z3 or Z13) and handed in passports and any valuables to the Purser. We were also given our uniform smocks and each had a badge denoting our Watch and number. While waiting, as our watch was last, we sat at our muster station and all got to know each other a bit.

The Captain’s briefing followed the signing on, and we were formally introduced to the permanent crew and volunteer helpers. We had an evening meal, and continued the training with learning how to ‘make up’ and ‘let go’ the running back stays (runners) which we need to do when tacking or wearing – turning – the ship. We also learned about the ships routine: the watches, or shifts of working, the daily ‘happy hour’ where everyone has to muck in to give the ship a thorough cleaning (“A clean ship is a happy ship!”), and the additional duties working in the galley, mess, or with the Boatswain.

Once training was complete we were allowed shore leave in Poole to celebrate St Patrick’s Day. We found a nice Irish Pub, but everyone had to go easy on the Guinness.  Shore leave ended at 2300hrs, with lights out at 0100hrs, but sleep did not come easy as excitement brewed about the voyage beginning in the morning.

My First Travelogue

When I was younger I had an unprecedented spot of luck: Pembrokeshire, where I grew up, was home to a number of oil companies and their refineries, and unbeknown to me at the time one of the oil companies (I cannot remember which I’m afraid) used to offer sponsorship to members of youth groups. Now I have no idea how this came about, literally the first I heard about it was when I was selected, but through my membership of the Scouts my name was chosen for sponsorship on a tall ship voyage with the Sail Training Association. I couldn’t believe it! It was all very short notice and all very exciting, and, having the kind of mum who believes that travel and adventure are an important part of life, I was allowed to go. It was amazing. I was 17 years old and was about to embark upon a 2 week sailing voyage in a genuine tall ship!

Dar Mlodziezy by Bruno Girin at flickr, via Wikimedia Commons.

Tall ships had really captured my imagination ever since 1991 when the Cutty Sark Tall Ships Race began in my home town. The local dock, which previously had been home to trawlers and fish markets, was revamped into a ‘marina’ (oooOOOooo!) and the adjacent part of town was given a huge makeover. Grotty potholed roads were replaced with smart block paving, and new ironwork bins, benches and lamp posts were installed all around. Tall Ships Race fever came to town planning, local schools, basically everywhere in the town. Lessons in my primary school were given around tall ship recognition – do you know your sloop from your ketch? Your barque from your brig? Tall ships became the subjects of school art competitions and school visits were organised to the new marina and to look around the ships that had congregated in advance of the start of the race.

Thanks to the fact that my dad’s work was based with the refineries, as a family, we were even allowed to visit on board the largest ship entered into the race, the Dar Młodzieży. This ship is the first Polish-built, ocean-going sailing vessel to circumnavigate the globe, and at nearly 360ft in length, it couldn’t fit into the docks. Instead a berth had been arranged at a jetty of one of the oil refineries, where the oil tankers would berth to offload their cargo of crude oil for refining. In case you’re wondering how to pronounce Dar Młodzieży, my best tranliteration is: ‘Darmladjetsy’. I remember that a crew-member taught my mum how to pronounce it, and she taught me by likening it to “darn m’jersey”, which has just stuck with me!

I was also a reasonably accomplished dinghy sailor by the age of 17. During summer holidays from school, rather than getting a child minder to take care of us, my mum (who worked long hours) would often enroll my brother and I in some form of activity to keep us occupied. One summer this had involved learning to sail in tiny Optimist dinghies on the lake below a local castle. We both took to this like ducks (or dinghies!) to water, and the following year became founder members of a new sailing club. I took part in race seasons locally and my brother even went on to be part of the Welsh Sailing Team in the Topper class.

So you see how the stage was set for my excitement at winning this trip!

Conscientious as I was back then, I wanted to make sure that I showed my gratitude to both the Scouts and my sponsor, so I supplemented my photos with a diary-style travelogue that I wrote during the voyage, and afterwards I made the lot into a presentation. Some time ago, in the process of moving house, I once again stumbled over this diary. I had found the photos before (they really are bad – the camera I had back then was one of those film 35mm cameras you used to get that was so basic it didn’t even take batteries. No zoom, no features, just point, shoot and hope. But excellent memories none-the-less) but I had completely forgotten that I had even made a diary of the trip. My first ever foray into travel writing, in fact. It was fascinating to read it again and be reminded of bits of the voyage that had completely escaped my memory.

So I thought I would edit my little travelogue slightly and put it here in installments. My very own account of my two weeks at sea in the STS Sir Winston Churchill, by 17 year old me :)