Day Sail
On July 31, 2006, Brenda was granted passage aboard the U.S. Brig Niagara, an 1812 warship replica. She won the day sail trip by writing a 250 word essay on why she should be chosen to go. The contest was sponsored by Baylake Bank in conjunction with the "Tall Ship" Festival in Green Bay.
Below are photos of her voyage and an article describing her excellent adventure. To see enlargements of the pictures, just click on the photo. To return to this page after viewing the enlarged photo, just click your "back" button. Since it does take a few minutes for the pictures to load, why not scroll down to the article and read it while you're waiting? Enjoy mateys!
Brenda's Sailing Adventure Article
Special Feature Article: For immediate release.
(Digital pictures available)
Contact: Brenda Hansen at: 715-752-3532
E-mail:
brendahansen@frontiernet.net
Don't Give Up The Ship
by bjhansen
What possesses a person to leave safe harbor, soft beds, hot showers, and other creature comforts to scramble around, instead, upon a gargantuan spider's web of spars, ropes and rigging rising over 100 feet above swelling seas? In the words of one 20-year veteran crewmember of the U.S. Brig Niagara, "Passion, my friend. Pure passion!"
And what possessed this landlubber of fifty-some-odd years to tag along for the ride? Some would say, insanity. But I, like a good number of the other 35 essayists who won passage aboard an 1813 warship replica this past July, would say it's because we recognized it was one of those once-in-a-lifetime experiences. The kind you just can't afford to pass up without regretting for the rest of your life.
My journey began July 4, as I sat in my comfortable recliner lounger sipping a soda and reading a week old edition of the local paper. There, buried deep within the pages was a four paragraph announcement of a Baylake Bank essay contest to win a Day Sail from Green Bay to Sturgeon Bay onboard the U.S. Brig Niagara.
Now, I had heard about the Tall Ship Festival coming to Green Bay the last weekend in July and had wanted very much to go, having never even seen a real sailing vessel before. And even more, I had wanted very badly to actually sail on one, but knew the $55 ticket was more than this struggling freelance writer could afford. So this contest seemed like a perfect opportunity.
But then I looked at the deadline for entering. It was the next day, July 5. Undaunted, I rushed to my computer to check out the website where the article said I could download an application form. What I found there gave me pause.
"This is not a luxury sight-seeing cruise." the application emphasized. "Niagara" is not a passenger ship, neither in mission nor in construction. ... The SSV (Sailing School Vessel) classification requires all onboard to be participants in a program of instruction, at least to the extent of obeying the orders of the crew and being able to shift about the deck as required to facilitate maneuvers. As a re-creation of an 1813 vessel with an educational mission, Niagara has very steep ladders, low overheads below deck, numerous tripping hazards about the deck, few opportunities to sit down (and only on hardwood at that), and is subject to abrupt motion."
"Hmmmm" I thought. "How badly do I really want to do this?"
The hesitation was only momentary, though, and the next thing I knew, I had the application form in front of me and was struggling to come up with a few clever words that would convince the Captain and Baylake Bank to let me onboard.
Here's what I finally came up with:
Why I Should be on the Brig Niagara Day Sail:
The wind in my hair, spray in my face and the rhythmic rise and fall of a sailing vessel beneath my feet has been a fantasy of mine from my youth when I would watch the crew of the Calypso navigate around the world investigating the wonders of the sea. There is just something about crashing waves and the breath of open water that fascinates and exhilarates me and I've been looking for a way to experience such an adventure for a long time.
I almost had my chance 20 years ago in Florida, when a catamaran was to set sail for a morning seashell hunt. I had tried gaining passage three times, but either the boat was booked or weather conditions did not permit sailing. I finally got to go, but the seas were too rough to raise the sails so we used the motor instead. While it was a delightful time, it just wasn't the same as letting the wind take charge while just hanging on for the ride.
Since then, I've ridden in a lot of motorboats, but have never even seen a tall ship up close and personal. I would consider this to be one of the greatest birthday presents ever - ranking right up there with my first airplane ride - and I know it would give me loads of ideas to further my career as a feature writer and novelist. Thanks for considering me.
Sincerely,
Brenda J. Hansen
Okay, so it wasn't Herman Melville. But, please keep in mind that I only had a few hours and less than 250 words to make my case.
Of course, the minute I submitted it, I had all kinds of second thoughts. I was turning 51 at the end of the week. I've never considered myself athletic, even though I do exercise regularly by biking and walking a few miles a day. Although I'd never had much trouble with motion sickness in a car or plane, I had no idea how I'd react to a long stretch on the water and the application form was talking anywhere from 6 to 9 hours out on open seas. I also needed to be at the dock by 8:00 a.m. the day of departure which meant getting up at 5:00. Since I'm not a morning person, this was a particularly difficult adjustment for me to make.
But then I kept thinking, "Will I ever be in better shape than I am right now? Will I ever get another opportunity?" With a resounding "No!" ringing in my head, I signed the application form and handed it to my husband to drop off at the bank when he went to work the next day. I consoled myself with the thought that it was in God's hands now. If He thought I was up to it, I'd get a spot on the boat. If not, at least I knew I'd tried.
A week passed. Then two. And since the article had said winners would be notified soon after the deadline, I figured that was that - and turned my focus back onto more mundane concerns. However, the Tuesday before the Day Sail, a message was waiting for me on my answering machine from Baylake Bank. I had been accepted. Did I still want to go?
I must confess, I didn't call back right away. There was a slight moment of panic as I realized that this was the real thing and if I made the commitment, there would be no going back.
The weather forecasters were all predicting record high temperatures on sail day - maybe hitting 100 plus degrees inland. Friends and family with whom I'd shared the possibility of going were concerned about me getting seasick or suffering from heatstroke. More than a few warned me to get a prescription of dramamine if I was serious about going. And I was also concerned about getting to and from the ports on time and all those other little details involved in putting together an adventure like this.
In the end, though, it was my husband, Dan, who convinced me to go for it. And so, on Monday, July 31, he got me up as dawn was breaking, helped me get outfitted in my sailing gear, slathered me up in sunscreen and drove me from our farm in rural Clintonville to the dock in Green Bay dropping me off at the gate just before 8:00 a.m.
I got registered, took some pictures of our vessel and a number of other "Tall Ships" that were docked close by, and then took the opportunity to use the port-a-potty one last time, as I wasn't too thrilled about the prospect of using the "marine" toilet (or ship's head as it's called in nautical terms) once we launched.
Before we got onboard, the Captain conducted an orientation session, talking about the ship and the excursion in general, and conducted another one on safety once we were all on deck. We finally got underway around 9:30 a.m. and motored out of port, firing off our cannon on the way out and hearing several others return the salute. It was LOUD!
By this time, I had already managed to connect with a number of other "students" trying to feel them out about why they were there and what they expected from this trip. The answers were as varied as the people who gave them. The male / female ratio was about 50/50 with most of the men admitting that it was their wives who had done the essay writing. The first person I encountered was a fourth-grade teacher trying to record the adventure on video for her class. She would be only one of several educators in our group.
There was a carpenter who was extremely interested in how this wooden vessel was put together, a number of reporters/writers/photographers like me wanting to get material for publication, an electrician and his wife, a retired U.S. Navy veteran, a nurse, and a woman dressed in period costume interested in the historical aspects of the ship and the cruise.
There were also a number of senior citizens looking for a little adventure, a business executive who raced sailboats in his spare time and a college student who was planning on spending the spring semester of 2007 training on a tall ship similar to this one out on the East Coast who wanted to "get her feet wet" (pun intended) -- among others.
Oh, and I can't forget the two female highschool students who seemed to be more interested in getting tanned and listening to their iPodsĒ then they were in what the crew was doing. (Okay so maybe I'm a little envious of their hourglass figures, manicured nails and body-hugging tank tops.) At any rate, it's obvious we were a pretty diverse group.
It didn't take long after we launched for all my fears about getting seasick or heatstroke to be quelled. Neither happened. In fact we had very smooth sailing and while the temperatures were not particularly comfortable, they were tolerable. Most of the time, we were dealing with mid to high-80's with a stiff breeze that, while not cool, still managed to keep our body temps down.
Around 11:00 a.m. we were finally far enough along the Fox River to put up the sails. It was about this time that we all started getting our first real feel of sailing as the Captain and first mate were shouting orders back and forth using words and nautical terms that were all but a foreign language to me.
It was absolutely amazing to watch the crew go aloft in the rigging to release the canvas. They all wore safety harnesses, still I would never have been able to do it - even in my younger years - especially after watching the ones who were tending to the topsails that were some 100 feet up in the air. We were in relatively calm water (1 to 3 foot waves), but I can't imagine what it would have been like back in the 1800's trying to work with the rigging in 6 to 8 foot swells.
The crew unfurled and tied off the two sets of topsails. Then, once the mainsails were just about ready to be unfurled, the Captain finally reduced our two diesel engines to an idle and had all of us "students" line up to help the crew hoist the mainsails. Between the crew and us there were about 85 people onboard,. Each of us had a piece of the rope in our hand which we simply held onto tightly as we walked up one side of the boat, releasing it as we made the turn and picking up another rope as we walked down the other side. That got the two "power" sails up. Then it was our job to pull hand over hand to tighten the sails as the crew tied them off. At one point, we were the only things holding them down. It was awesome!
After that came the most profound part for me. As the motors were shut down completely, there was this wonderful - almost mystical - moment of silence and anticipation as we could actually feel the sails catch the wind and start to tug us out. It was almost as if the vessel was a living creature taking its first breath - or a corpse experiencing a resurrection of sorts. I was reminded of Ezekiel's vision of dry bones in the valley coming together and God breathing life back into them.
The ship lunged forward, swooshing and shushing as she carved a path through the waters. The captain announced that we were under sail. A cheer went up. And from that point on we were being driven solely by wind and muscle power.
Shortly after getting under sail, we ate a hearty lunch of chicken soup and biscuits. Then the captain held a couple of "musters" to tell us a little history about the vessel and the battle for which it became famous.
The first thing we learned is that the Niagara cannot technically be called a tall "ship". Only vessels with three or more masts are suppose to be referred to as ships. The Niagara is the third replica of a two-masted square-rigged brig originally designed and built in 1813 to be used in the battle for the Great Lakes and Canada during the War of 1812. This particular replica was built in 1988 using some of the timbers from the original vessel. It is 198 feet long and over 118 feet high when fully rigged. Its water displacement is 297 long tons (2,240 pounds) and is generally crewed with 40 officers and sailors (20 professional and 20 volunteer trainees).
The Niagara was originally armed with eighteen 32-pound cannonades and two 12-pound long guns. It carried a complement of 155 officers and men. On the berthing deck were sleeping quarters for the officers and crew, storerooms, a sail bin and a wood stove. There was only about a six foot clearance on this deck, so very few sailors could walk fully upright there.
Magazines for shot and gunpowder were stored in the hold below deck so there was less chance of accidentally igniting the whole thing or being hit by cannon fire during combat and blowing the whole ship to bits. As loud as the one cannon was that we fired as we left Green Bay at only half the charge needed to fire a cannonball, I can only imagine what it must have been like with all 20 guns firing at one time. It is assumed that most navy seamen ended up deaf or nearly so by the end of their careers. No wonder each command is repeated a half dozen times around the ship during maneuvers. It's the only way to make sure everyone is actually hearing the orders.
After the War of 1812, Niagara was scuttled in Misery Bay within Erie Harbor. In 1913, the wreck of Niagara was brought up, and a ship was reconstructed upon her keel and a few other salvageable timbers.
Between 1933 and 1943, another complete reconstruction took place with the ship being placed on a permanent cradle out of the water. Masts and rigging were installed in 1963. By the mid 1980's, time had again taken its toll on the brig. The Niagara was closed to the public due to severe deterioration. In 1988, ship builder Melbourne Smith built a fourth Niagara. The present ship incorporates some original timber in nonstructural areas. The rest of the reconstruction is primarily treated pine framing and Douglas fir planking with the sails being made of "Durodon" synthetic fiber resembling canvas and the rigging constructed of steel wire, manila, dacron and polyester.
All of this information and more is on the ship's website at
www.brigniagara.org
Since I had already gotten most of this info from the website, I took the opportunity during one of these "musters" to head for a spot where I could look out and just watch the shoreline go by, instead.
Since this was a warship, the sides (or bulwarks) were quite high with a number of portholes spaced every so often where the cannons would have been located. For us "students" to see anything required that we either find a space by a porthole, sit on the steps leading up to the gang planks, or balance precariously on whatever we could find along the bulwarks and peer out over the top. I managed to find a free gangplank stairway and settled in to watch pelicans and seagulls go by and check out the curiosity seekers in their big yachts and speedboats as they checked us out. One wonders what went through some of their heads when they saw us coming.
Every once in a while, the crew would alter course slightly by shifting the steering sail located at the bow and moving the rudder - a long plank located across the aft of the vessel. (We had no "wheel" as one is accustomed to seeing on ships in the movies.) I loved to feel the brig accept the adjustments and watch her slice through the waters as she made the course changes. And the rest of the time there was this absolutely rhythmic rocking to her that had a very calming and quieting effect on my soul.
After about 20 minutes of this, the students and crew were released for a little free time. Some of the hands set up hoses on deck to shower down in the climbing temperatures. Another group got busy with K.P. duty, washing the dishes and utensils from our recent lunch. The rest of us did a little exploring. I went below deck to see the galley and the "berthing" area.
As we had been forewarned, the headroom clearance was sparse. I'm only 5'5" and found myself ducking most of the time I was down below. The galley is tiny with only a wooden stove for the cook to heat the food. Storage space is at a premium with only a small gas powered refrigerator and a few coolers, so the cook purchases only enough provisions at each port of call to make it to the next one. Dishes are done on the top deck in large metal wash bins by the crew.
Each crew member has only one duffle bag in which they keep all their personal belongings. They sleep right on the berthing deck in sleeping bags - even when in port. Although this might not sound very comfortable, the fresh air and hard labor apparently make sleeping pretty easy as evidenced by the crew while in the Port of Green Bay. The day before we set sail, a storm had passed through during the night blowing tents and debris around the Festival Grounds and causing a number of the 16 "Tall Ships" to list and a few to even take on water. We were told that many of the crews headed for shore to wait out the storm in nearby storage buildings, but upon returning to their ship, the crew of the Niagara discovered at least one tuckered-out sailor still sound asleep. Again, it struck me what a different lifestyle this profession is and how it had been even more so back in the days when this ship had been used in battle.
For those of you not familiar with the War of 1812, the most important person to remember in regards to the history of the U.S. Brig Niagara is her relief commander during the Battle of Lake Erie, Commodore Oliver Hazard Perry.
Perry was born on August 23, 1785. At the age of 13, Perry entered the Navy as a midshipman, where his first assignment was in the Caribbean under the command of his father. Perry's subsequent voyages took him to Europe and Africa during the Barbary Wars.
In 1805, at the age of 20, Perry became a lieutenant and was given the command of a small schooner. Next, he was called to oversee the construction of a number of gunboats ordered by President Thomas Jefferson. When this job was successfully completed, Perry was given the command of the 14-gun vessel Revenge and cruised the northern- and mid-Atlantic waters of the Eastern United States. In January 1811, Perry was ordered to survey a number of Rhode Island harbors. Unfortunately, through faulty piloting and bad weather, Revenge wrecked on a reef.
In May 1812, Perry returned to active duty and received a promotion to master-commandant. One month later the United States declared war on Great Britain, citing British policies that infringed on the American trade and freedom of the seas.
Perry was given command of 12 gunboats at Newport and New London, but lost interest in the relative inactivity of this post, and, in September 1812, requested duty on the high seas or the Great Lakes.
In February 1813, he was ordered to Commodore Isaac Chauncey's command at Sacket's Harbor, Lake Ontario, and then sent to Erie, Pennsylvania, where a fleet was being constructed to wrest control of Lake Erie from the British who already had a small squadron there. Perry was sent to command the project. Although facing many adverse conditions, including lack of men and materials, Perry and his men successfully completed six vessels by July 1813.
The Battle of Lake Erie began with Perry aboard his flagship Lawrence . In the early stages of the battle, however, Lawrence and her crew took most of the enemy's fire. Lawrence was severely damaged and over 80 percent of Perry's crew were killed or wounded by concentrated British gunfire. David Bunnell, a seaman aboard Lawrence, described the scene before battle as "A time to try the stoutest heart. My pulse beat quick - all nature seemed wrapped in awful suspense - the dart of death hung as if it were trembling by a single hair, and no one knew on whose head it would fall."
There were reports that the cannon fire could be heard from Erie--one report said Dunkirk, NY--nearly 200 miles away and it was said that the crew spread sand over the decks to keep the men from slipping and falling on the blood and gore in the heat of the battle. By 1:30 p.m., the sand had absorbed all it could; and the blood seeped through the seams of the deck and onto the faces of the wounded men below.
Ironically, in an attempt to change defeat to victory, Perry, carrying his battle flag emblazoned with Captain Lawrence's dying words, "Don't Give Up The Ship." did exactly that, and transferred from Lawrence to the lightly damaged Niagara in a small boat. He took command of Niagara and sailed her into the British battle line.
The British had also taken heavy casualties from the Lawrence's fire. Broadsides from the fresh Niagara compelled their surrender within 15 minutes of Perry's transfer. Immediately following his victory at the Battle of Lake Erie, Perry penned the famous words,"We have met the enemy and they are ours..." in his report to General William Henry Harrison.
Perry was the first in history to defeat an entire British squadron and successfully bring back every ship to his base as a prize of war. Perry, at the age of 28, was hailed by the public as a national hero for his victory on Lake Erie.
After his victory in the War of 1812, Perry was promoted to the rank of Captain and given command of the new frigate Java. Then in 1819, as commander of John Adams, Perry was sent to Venezuela on a diplomatic mission. After completing his mission he contracted yellow fever and died at sea near Trinidad on August 23, 1819, his 34th birthday. He was buried at Port of Spain, Trinidad, with full military honors. In 1826, his remains were moved from Trinidad to Newport, Rhode Island, where a monument in his honor was erected by the state.
It was quite remarkable listening to our Captain retell the tales of those long ago battles, knowing that we stood on some of the very timbers that were witness to such awful and awe-inspiring events. But I am ever so grateful that I did not personally live through them.
It was exciting enough for me to just watch the crew tend to their "normal" duties on this very "peaceful" cruise. And especially so as we neared Sturgeon Bay.
About 3:30 p.m., the Captain mustered the students to explain to us about how he intended to turn the boat around using just the sails so that we could finish our journey down into the Port of Sturgeon Bay. It was to be quite a complicated maneuver and our main job was to stay out of the way!
Up until this time about the only thing the crew had been adjusting was the steering sail. Now they were going to move the yards (the cross pieces on the masts that held the sails in place) and loosen some of the sails, so we were told there was going to be a lot of noise and commotion for a few minutes while the event was actually happening.
For the next half hour, the crew set everything up. Then suddenly, the Captain called for the drastic course change and in less than five minutes both sets of yards were swung back and forth across the vessel. The slap crack of sails reverberated about the deck. Crewmen were everywhere hauling and hoisting rope, running from starboard to port and aft to bow and back again. The rudder cut sharply to the right lifting the port side up out of the water. All we could see out the starboard portholes was gray-green water as the ship leaned hard into the wind. Then, just as quickly, the activity came to a stop. The Captain called for cleanup of the deck. And those of us watching realized that we had done a complete 180 and almost started backing up before everything was in its proper place again - only this time we were sailing into the wind instead of having it behind our back like we had experienced all day long.
As we entered into Sturgeon Bay, the crew began taking down (furling or reefing) the sails - so back up into the rigging they went. Right after that, the Captain called for a fire drill where our main job was to distribute life jackets and gather by the life rafts for a head count.
After that we motored into port uneventfully except for having to avoid the crowd of onlookers who came out to see this "tall ship" enter the bay. We arrived at the dock right around 5:30 p.m., our marvelous adventure over.
I was hot, sweaty, gritty, windswept and desperately in need of a bathroom by the time we got in. I had notified a friend of mine by cell phone while still onboard to pick me up at the docks. She brought me back to Green Bay and Dan delivered me safe and sound from there. I was too tired to do anything but wash up and hit the hay that night, but sure enjoyed a long luxurious soak in the whirlpool tub the next morning.
While it was a glorious trip, I don't know that I would do it again--at least not like that.
You see, one of the drawbacks of actually sailing on a tall ship is that you only get to see the full sails up and running from below. While breathtaking, it's not quite as wondrous as seeing a fully rigged ship from a distance. So, the next time I go, I want to ride along side of her so I can see her in all her majesty--because the lure of the sea really does work its way deep down into a person's soul and compels you to do whatever is necessary to go back again. It's no wonder the crew of the U.S. Brig Niagara stills sails under the banner, "Don't give up the ship!" If she were mine, I wouldn't give her up either.
