just some of the sails aboard Royal Clipper |
Looking forward at the bowsprit at sunset |
from the Biscay low came from the north/northeast catching the Royal Clipper from the starboard stern causing us to pick up the rollicking motion that had tagged along since leaving Lisbon. Fortunately, most of the passengers seemed to have overcome their initial battle with ‘La Mal de Mer’ (seasickness) and were better able to accommodate the whims of the sea. Mind you, you still had to watch your step and balance when walking the decks but that was part of the allure of being on a sailing ship.
As we made our way farther south the weather began to warm up nicely to the point of bordering on hot. A rhythm developed aboard ship as passengers fell into some amount of routine that made the hours at sea pass. Given that the ship is only 442 feet in length they pack a fair amount of activities between stem and stern. Early riser? Continental breakfast starts at 0630. Want some morning exercise?
Exercise classes, for those so inclined, help melt the calories from all the sumptuous culinary offerings |
Stretching is at 0830 followed by dance aerobics in the Tropical Bar. Meanwhile, regular ‘full’ breakfast is being served in the dining room. After sampling the delicious culinary offerings most passengers head topsides to snag a deck chair and relax for a while (until lunch!) reading and dozing while gazing up at the masts making lazy circles among the puffy white clouds overhead. Lunch offers more delicious fare but perhaps its best to not go overboard as Zumba is at 1530 before classes in navigation and knot-tying. For those seeking refreshment of the liquid kind the Tropical Bar on the aft deck lives up to its name complete with umbrella drinks and live music. Snacks of course are also provided and lest you spoil your appetite for dinner there’s the requisite stroll to the bridge and bow to view the stunning sunsets that can only be seen at sea from the deck of a pitching ship.
dinner is served... |
Dinner aboard the Royal Clipper is a four or five-course affair and the desserts are to-die-for if you’re not too worried about gaining some inches. Most of the Clipper crowd did not seem to have calorie counting as one of their primary pastimes. Not to worry though, as after-dinner dancing is yet ahead and the gym and massage rooms are open until late in the evening. A nightly movie, stargazing on the upper deck, and midnight snacks finish off what can be as busy or as relaxing a day as one wishes.
One other activity that folks have been waiting for, but has thus far been cancelled due to the motion of the ship, is the chance to climb the rat lines up the main mast to the first (lower) crows nest located approximately 90 feet above the deck. My better half is anxious to give it a go (or maybe just anxious) so we’re hoping the sea will calm down in the next day or so so she can get her chance. Gazing up at the swaying masts (there are five - fore-mast, main mast, middle mast, mizzenmast mast, and last but not least - though shorter than all the
view from the bowsprit net back at the Royal Clipper |
others- the jigger mast) I’m only glad we won’t be climbing up to the dizzying heights at their tops though the crew does get that privilege to set and repair sails when needed. There’s also a bowsprit up front to which are attached the jib sails that also supports rope netting that passengers can climb into and gaze down at the azure blue sea passing beneath them.
“Ladies and Gentlemen, Madames et Monsieurs, good morning aboard the Royal Clipper. It’s a beautiful day full of shipboard activities. The Captain and crew wish you to have a pleasant day.” That’s how every morning began, with an announcement from the bridge. On the schedule for today:
0634 Sunrise (and yes, lots of folks got up to see it)
0800 Morning Gymnastics with Borja
0900 Walk a Mile
0930 Mast Climbing
1030 Celestial Navigation without GPS
1115 Power Walk with Abdel
1130 Card Playing in the Library
1200 Position and Weather Announcement from the Bridge
1330 Play Chess with Benjo
ONE pastry chef turned out all the desserts, cakes, and pastries. Yum is an understatement |
1430 Story Time with Captain Sergey
1500 Deck Golf with the Sports Team
1530 Zumba with Abdel
1630 Engine Room Tour
1700 Afternoon Melodies in the Tropical Bar
1715 Daily Quiz Time
1800 Traditional Salve Regina
1900 Piano Melodies
2130 After Dinner Dancing
2200 Karaoke Night and Disco Dancing
2300 Star Gazing with 2nd Officer Maya
Some of these offerings change every day, but this gives a good idea of a typical day at sea.
And lest we forget, meal times as follows:
0630 Continental Breakfast
0800 Breakfast Buffet
1200 Luncheon Buffet/Pasta & Salad Bar
1700 Afternoon Snack
1752 Sunset
1930 Dinner is Served
2345 Midnight Snack
That’s a lot to cram into 24 hours, or rather 23 as we turned the clock back about every other day as we crossed time zones heading West. Of course, a fair number of passengers simply awoke, had breakfast, then headed for the deck chairs by the pool to enjoy quiet time until the next meal. My better half opted for busier options with the only rest coming as we gratefully fell into bed to be rocked to sleep by the rhythm of the waves.
NEXT DAY...
With sails hoisted, its time to climb the mast |
About 0930 this morning they were able to raise the sails as we had finally picked up the trade winds blowing from the stern. So it was off with the engines and all hands on deck (or at least all passengers) to witness the flutter and pop of the massive sails straining against the wind pulling us through the cobalt waters of the Atlantic. Today was also the day we reached the halfway point between Portugal and Barbados. The only sign of this waypoint were the flying fish skipping off the waves as if to congratulate us on making it this far.
With the sails out in their full glory and the seas calm enough with the swell coming from behind, it was time to climb the main mast to the lookout perched just above the mainsail at about 80 feet off the deck. A hardy bunch of passengers, including yours truly, lined up for the honor of hoisting ourselves up the rope rungs of the rat lines through the little opening in the lookout from where we could gaze down at our less-brave (though probably wiser) fellow passengers who were distinctly beginning to look like ants scurrying around on the decks below. Don’t know if it was coincidence, but at the same time I reached the lookout I could gaze down on the foredeck where the crew was having an Abandon Ship drill complete with fully inflated life raft. Hmmm, I’m going up and they’re preparing to go down. Apparently I didn’t get that message in a bottle.
the crew made mast climbing look easy... "Look Ma, no hands!" |
Still, it was pretty cool to climb out from the ship railing over the surging waves rolling by along the hull of the Royal Clipper and hoist one’s self up what suddenly was starting to look like a very, very tall mast. Fortunately, we were only allowed to the first lookout level. Looking upwards from there one could only imagine what it must be like to climb to the very top of the mast past another 4 large sails billowing and snapping in the breeze (two topsails and two topgallants). Going up was not so bad as you were
up, or down? we go... |
very focused on the next rung (strand of precariously tied rope) above you. Going the other direction however brought to mind what my beloved wife reminds me every time we hike a mountain: it’s often tougher going down than going up. I quickly learned that was equally true in the fine art of mast climbing, or at least mast descending, as going down you were looking straight down trying to make sure your foot didn’t miss the next strand of rope that was stopping you from taking the quick way back to the deck. Looking down gave you the opportunity to contemplate the faces of all those ant-like creatures staring up at you from far, far below. Fun stuff.
and this was the easy part... next came the math |
Safely back on the closest thing to terra firma for a thousand miles, it was then time to find out a little more about Celestial Navigation which involves taking sun and star sights using a sextant and remembering why you hated trigonometry so much in High School. The chances of me determining with any accuracy (give or take a thousand miles) where in the middle of this ocean the Royal Clipper actually was resembled the odds of me winning the Colorado Lottery when I don’t even buy a ticket. I mean, I'm still finding my way around the ship, let alone this giant puddle called the Atlantic. Thank God (and Garmin) for GPS otherwise I’d be sailing round and round in circles until next hurricane season. Modern electronics now make navigating a sailing vessel like the one we were on almost as easy as telling Google “take me to Walmart!” And out here I don’t even have to wait in line wondering why the twenty other lanes are all closed. Still, in the hands of an expert the sextant is remarkably accurate and apparently some of the crew continue to routinely practice this almost-lost art in case those fancy modern electronics go on the fritz (there's no calling on Geek Squad for a mid-Atlantic house, or in this case - ship, call).
another day at sea comes to a close |
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