0950 - 46.58.2'N x 90.30.2'W - The Apostle Islands, Lake Superior - By Matthew Maples

I come up from below to a sun-lit deck and a brisk early morning breeze. It was the kind of morning where you expect to sit down to sip tea and watch the red-rock shores where invisible birds among pine sing. The stuff you see people doing in commercials for Michigan tourism.

Not today though.a plan far more ambitious than an early morning slack is afoot. My first clue is the safety harnesses leaving the rack and the cacophony of "click", "rattle" and "thump" as metal harness clips are adjusted and put on. Our sails above are furled, with line wrapped around them to stow them away from the stormy weather of yesterday. Up an up our crew and trainees go aloft to unfurl - this rare morning wind is not to be squandered!

We are to sail off the hook - basically, to bring up our anchor and use the wind to sail away without any help from our "iron sails" (the engines). The wind begins at our head, up forward where our anchor leads out. As we nearly finish heaving anchor, Captain Vos calls for the headsails to be set; all three jibs go aloft at once dramatically as a ready gang at the halyards hauls them home. Once set, they put force on our bow, slowly pushing us onto a port tack. Then we wait at the foot of our fore and main masts, ready to set the lower topsails (2nd highest square-sails) for power.finally, we get the word; clews and buntlines are cast away and sheets are hauled tight, bringing the corners of the sail to the waiting yardarms below. We don't stop there - more canvas! Up the mast each successive square is set and speed is gained as more sails are set aloft - with that power we make our way out of the bay. Someone then asks Captain Vos if he wants staysails set - belay that! He wants the royals (5th highest squares) set - more power!

By 0950 we are sailing in between Stockton Island (where we began) and Outer Island. Looking at the chart in the wheelhouse, I see that we are going to be tacking our way through a cluster of small islands, working our way to the north with the help of this north-westerly wind. I say to Captain Vos that this reminds me of sailing in the Virgin Islands."Yeah" he says, "but this is better, this is quiet!"

He is right. I see only one other sail boat out here with us. No "touristy" mess with us being mobbed by small boats darting about. Nothing else is here but islands, teal water and an open sky. A complete 180 from yesterday's oppressive gray cover, rain, lighting and headwinds. Our crew make the most of it, and by 1020 they are enjoying a coffee break in between tacks with abundant laughter and jokes to match the sun and the pine-tinted fresh air as we hug the coastline of Cat Island. We skirt it closely enough to spook our pilot! It is a good sail in the Apostle Islands to start the day.

We have continued our stop-and-go pattern to Duluth, sailing by day and putting into bay or harbor for the night. We made a short stop on the 26th in small Copper Harbor - a once mining town-turned-tourist resort of sorts. No doubt we helped the tourism trade that day.

The night before saw us in "Big Bay" - a remote anchorage with a nearby river, by which some of our crew and trainees entered with our small boat, "sloopie." To enter the river, they had to push the boat over a sandbar.

Gary Kirkpatrick, trainee, said that it made him feel like he was one of the first explorers of the Americas.

A special mention must be made for our newest trainee, Dan Vogt. He came onboard on a complete whim when we were in Marquette on the 24th. He met many of us on shore in town and he kept coming back to ask us questions.

The next morning he thought he was coming just to see us leave.but he saw our signs advertising for trainees. He decided, in a spontaneous moment, that he had to go with us, that he "had to do this." A mere few hours later, he was heading into Lake Superior, under sail and in style. I already know for a fact that this experience has changed his life, because he said so during a lunch - though he was, at the time, making a reference to the galley's Oxtail soup.

Another adventurous trainee of ours is Joan Young. I can now use her for an example when people in port ask if there is an "age limit" to our sail training. Though she may be seventy-six years old, she is on deck, hauling on lines, coiling and going ashore in the small boat. Joan even went aloft to see eye-to-eye with the main course yard. She says that it sure beats being at home in front of a television. I often cite the example of a volunteer on Niagara, John. He had his 75th birthday on board in 2008, and he is still there as a volunteer. He goes aloft to furl topsails and he rolls out of his hammock every morning to do fifty push-ups. With him and Joan as examples, it can be said that in reference to sail training, age is simply a number.

Tomorrow we enter Duluth and we end our sail across Lake Superior. Until then we hope to have a good sail for the other half of our day.

11:00 - Munising, Michigan By Matthew Maples

Imagine this: The Europa, with nearly all plain sail aloft, heeling over with the press of a close-hauled wind, gracing the coastline of Upper Peninsula Michigan. A starboard sunset sets the pine-crowned sandstone cliffs on our port afire and our once-white sails become as amber. A wizened, pearlescent moon of unusual size looms over the tree line accompanied by Venus, making her appearance with the stage exit of the ever-overbearing sun. A beautiful scene on its own, but I can only imagine what we looked like set against it.

Often the off-going watch goes below for relaxation soon after being relieved, but yesterday evening was different. Nearly the entire ships company was perched on the windward side, as if in a theatre, watching this twilight spectacle of water, wind and light on these "painted cliffs." Our evening showing of Irving Johnson's "Around Cape Horn" was understandably cancelled, because this was one of those particularly awesome sails - and we all knew it.

Twilight ended and so did our sail. The canvas came in and our docklines went out. We pulled into a dock in Munising, Michigan - a small town, but a friendly one in the midst of a fire-fighters "convention and games" of sorts. They gave us a great and immediate welcome and we returned the favor this morning with an open ship and some tours.

Since we left Sault St. Marie and its locks on the 21st, we have been making our way to Duluth in a leisurely fashion, sailing for the day and putting into an anchorage or dock for the night. The evening of the 22nd saw us drop our anchor at a secluded place; Little Lake Harbor - a pebble strewn driftwood beach with northern woods behind. So what do sailors do as soon as they get off their small boat and onto land? Apparently, they skip rocks and pluck wild blueberries to nibble on.

Here in the lakes, even when offshore, land never seems that far away. Ludwine, our ships doctor, says that she can smell the trees. Colin, a deckhand, mentioned with surprise that he could hear the drone of frogs from the woods while he was aloft - even though the shore was several miles away! Small insects are always a buzzing presence and a ridiculous amount of spiders have found our rigging and open portholes to be a perfectly inviting abode to dwell.

We left early next morning, and our afternoon was occupied by a close-hauled sail and a tack, into the lake and back again to the south shore - a nice sail with decidedly indecisive winds. Our trainees set all our sail for that day, as well as taking it in. A successful, slow tack was the climax of the afternoon's action. The time in-between saw a class on navigation, given by our pilot, as well as another on rigging - our trainees are getting a quality square-rig sailing experience. I can tell by their grins and their excited banter with the locals in our port calls that they think so too.

While the trainees were getting schooled, I was able to take a turn at the helm; A sunny day with a light breeze - nearly my favourite. I was reminded from my perch back aft, with its expansive view of sails and lake, of why I like helming. It is there you get to be at the crux of where our ship and the elements combine, where you can literally feel in your hands how wind and wave affect our ship, and how the fluid (or not so fluid) balance between them both is made with sail and rudder. Standing at such a crossroads you become at once more immersed in the scene, more aware of the elements. Yet, with such a view back aft, and your hands off the lines, you are simultaneously aloof and away with almost an external view of the action on deck.  A strange combination, but one that you need to feel yourself to understand.

As I write this I can see the layered cliffs with their sage-colored crowns pass by through the library porthole. Many of us were looking forward to Lake Superior for its scenery and I believe many of our expectations have been exceeded. What shall the days ahead bring?

July 20, 2010, 2345 - 45.32.7'N x 83.36.6'W

The second Tall Ships Challenge race, from Gravely Shoal to Drummond Island has become as much a race against time, as against our fellow tall ships. The finish line now lies a mere twenty-two miles ahead of us, yet we have but four hours to cross that distance. The entrance of the St. Mary's River is ahead and we need to be there by 0400 to enter with the current. We may be making five knots now, but if we turn on our engine for speed then we forfeit this race altogether!

This race is relatively short; only about 120 miles in its totality, but light and fickle winds have forced us to fight for ground; all plain sail is set aloft and our studding sails have been exercised vigorously. It would be unfortunate to drop out of the race this late in the game, especially since our competitor in our class, the Roald Amundsen, has become a small smudge on the horizon beyond our stern.

This was not always so. The beginning of the race, on the afternoon of the 19th, saw the Europa and Roald Amundsen throwing canvas aloft to snatch the barely-present winds, both grasping for ground to push ahead and cut off the wind of the other. Captain Vos tells me that in light winds, our two square riggers are fairly evenly matched - I believe it! At one point it looked to me like the Amundsen was gaining ground on us…then they tacked, putting themselves windward of us, perhaps in an attempt to block our wind. It was futile however, as our crew was hastily put up our studding sails, maximizing canvas aloft. With studding sails being set, the Amundsen found her speed dragging behind us at half a knot, while the Europa slowly accelerated beyond Amundsen's reach. Without studding sails herself, the Germans could do nothing but watch us nearly disappear over the horizon in front of them.

Our studding sails are a solid advantage for Europa over most of the other ships in these races. With all six of them set we can about double the canvas area of a mast - allowing us to put up an impressive amount of sail to fill with light winds. If set on both sides of our foremast as we run downwind, they make our ship look as if she has sprouted great wings of white. Positively majestic! With the help of our studding sails, I was able to wake up this morning and have trouble spotting the Amundsen far astern. She now trails us by 8.2 miles.

A highlighted aspect of the ASTA Tall Ships Challenge races it to push ship crews and trainees to compete against one another in order to build up their own teamwork skills. I think our studding sail setting should be the "poster child" of this goal. The amount of coordinated effort that is involved in setting them (especially when you see another ship gaining on your stern) is considerable! Hands are aloft, shipping out booms, sending down halyards and rigging sheets.  Line leads are improvised as we run out of pins to make fast our lines while eager hands unfurl them from their bags. When ready the studding sails are hauled aloft on one or more halyards, sheets are tensioned to keep the lower boom (an extra wooden spar to provide "framework" for the sail) and sail going aloft steady - like a kite they are hung aloft and held at a trimmed angle by two sheets. It is difficult to describe, but today I took a video of them being set from aloft - I will see if I can get it on this blog to illustrate my point.

The teamwork involved in setting them, is only heightened when they all need to be taken in quickly because of an impending storm - such a situation happened this afternoon, as our once-sunny horizon turned gray and dark. An excellent watch leader, Daniel Baxter, gave good direction as eager, helping hands among our crew and trainees ease halyards and sheets and haul on clews to bring the corners up, then lines are dis-attached and hands aloft bring in the naked booms left sticking out. All done quickly! We have sent our studding sails up and down several times in the past two days and I can already see our crew getting better with all this "practice".

Rain has drenched our deck this afternoon and lightning can be seen on the nearby shore. Yet it seems we have avoided most of that trouble. Now… if only we could be graced with just enough wind to finish the race and hopefully receive some recognition for the hard work of this crew!

By Matthew Maples