Ipswich--Or Somewhere Near There

On  September 10, we weighed anchor and made a quick journey up the River Orwell, where Rob would catch a train from Ipswich to go home after two weeks with us. I had understood that we were going to Ipswich, but Peter had booked the dock, so I found myself not on the waterfront in Ipswich but in a boat yard and marina somewhere outside of the city. I did not hesitate to express my lack of enthusiasm for his choice. I suspect he intentionally did not reveal to me where we were going. Peter absolutely loves being in boatyards and I categorically do not. Invariably, they are located in the middle of nowhere.

Nonetheless, here we are, five days in. Rob had just left to get an Uber to the train station (which, obviously, is not close by), having bid us goodbye under the hull of a large sailing vessel on the hard (You can't imagine how picturesque it is!), when we encountered Gus Wilson, a fellow sailor who, with his wife Helen, are full-time live aboards with a home port at St. Katherine Docks, London. This is where we got to know them. They are here for a couple weeks living on their boat on the hard while work is being done by them and the experts in the boatyard. We joined them for lunch at the restaurant, Outlook, overlooking the boats in the marina. 

Afterwards, I did four loads of laundry. The two sets of bed linens actually were 98% dry well before sunset. (That's about as good as it gets.) The towels had to be unpegged and brought in to the pilot house to be re-hung the next day. Peter and I spent some time planning our upcoming trip (by air) to Kenya and Tanzania and did chores around the boat. I researched things to do in Ipswich and ways to get there. Gus and Helen had informed us that Heritage Days was going on in Ipswich, offering tours and openings of buildings usually closed to public. They dropped by for a chat in the evening, which was pleasant. Helen has hearing problems and really couldn't participate in the conversation over lunch at the restaurant, so it was nice that she could join in the quiet on our boat.

The next morning, leaving Peter to the joys of tinkering on the boat and having access to a very good chandlery on site, I left to visit Ipswich. Google Maps indicated that it would take 45 minutes by bus or I could walk there in 43. I chose the latter, thinking I would get a chance to see more by walking. Indeed, I saw a lot, most of which was visually unappealing. After leaving the boatyard, I walked across an old arched brick bridge, now used only by pedestrians, and walked along Wherstead Road in a town I think is called Maidenhall, which is maybe part of Stoke. The two-lane road had constant and noisy traffic both ways. Obviously, it was pick-up day for garbage and recyclables because the sidewalk was lined on both sides with bins just on the outside of the brick walls or wooden fences in front of an endless row of particularly unattractive duplexes and terrace housing. I understand that England has experienced a long, dry summer, but that does not, in my opinion, excuse the utter lack of plant life within the narrow little front yards between the walls and the front of the buildings. There were no lawns, either drought brown or British green, and no flowering plants to be seen. Less than a dozen small trees grew along the mile long busy street. Although people surely lived there, it seemed desolate. 

Finally, I arrived at the bridge across the River Orwell into Ipswich and passed into a historical and visually interesting area. This port town and borough is the largest city in Suffolk. First recorded in the medieval period as Gippeswic, the town has been continuously inhabited since the Anglo-Saxon period in the 7th and 8th centuries. (It claims to be the oldest continuously occupied town developed by the English in England.) It became the main port of trade of the Kingdom of East Anglia under King Rædwald from 616 to 624. (The nearby Sutton Hoo site is probably the burial site for him, his ship and his treasure.) 

Ipswich prospered as an independent trade city but fell under Viking rule in 869. Eventually, the English took control again. The town was granted its first charter in 1200 by King John. Over the next four centuries, Ipswich was a very wealthy city with numerous priories, churches, hospitals, mansions and public buildings.

During the 14th to 17th centuries, Ipswich was a designated trading port, or kontor, of the Hanseatic League, a network of merchant guilds and market towns in central and northern Europe comprised of almost 200 settlements. The league dominated maritime trade in the North and Baltic Seas. Hanseatic merchants operated private companies and had greater access to commodities, privileges and protection abroad. The league protected its ships from pirates, built lighthouses and negotiated low custom duties and special tax exemptions for its members. Its economic power even enabled it to create blockades and engage in war.

Trade is not Ipswich's only claim to fame. The city's most well-known son is Thomas Wolsey, who was born in Ipswich in 1473 and was educated with the help of wealthy relations. Cardinal Wolsey was one of King Henry VIII's closest political allies and his Lord Chancellor, until he wasn't. He failed to obtain the annulment of Henry and Catherine of Aragon's 22-year marriage, and Henry stripped him of his government office and property and accused him of treason. On route to London for trial, he became seriously ill and died at Leicester Abbey in 1530. He was buried in a simple pine coffin, dressed in his episcopal robes with his cross, mitre and ring. After the dissolution of the monasteries between 1536 and 1541, the abbey was was razed and the site of Wolsey's burial was lost.

However, there is a outsized statue of him on St. Peter's Street; currently the eyes are accented in blue, no doubt a fashion statement. The statue includes a cat by his seat because Wolsey was known to be a feline lover who often brought them to formal events, state dinners and church services.

Cardinal Thomas Wolsey and a cat

Before passing by this sculpture, I detoured into a medieval courtyard surrounded by Tudor buildings with walls of brickwork and plaster sandwiched among large timbers as well as leaded glass windows. I learned that one design feature of the medieval structures is the slight overhang of the upper story. Apparently, the buildings have tilted over time or the construction workers had not yet learned to use a plumb line.

Medieval courtyards

At the corner of St. Nicholas and Silent Streets, is an early Tudor building called Curson Lodge. Inside the ground level of the corner part of the three building former lodge is a new age shop where it is possible to see the earlier interior structural elements. Like most old buildings, additions were made over time, and the joints reveal where these occurred.

Curson Lodge

A newer carved beam joined with an older, darker one

The streets and alleys are lined with medieval, Tudor, Georgian, Victorian and other styled architecture. The most striking building is Ancient House, also known as Sparrowe's House after one of the former owners. The original part of the house dates back to the late 14th or early 15th century, when it was owned by Sir Richard of Martlesham. In the 16th century, a series of local merchants occupied and added to the house, including George Copping, a draper and fishmonger who acquired the property in 1567 and the Sparrowe family, who bought it in 1603 and owned it for 300 years. The elaborately carved structural wood posts and lintels are topped by the milk-white first story, which was added by Robert Sparrowe between 1660 and 1670 and bears the arms of King Charles II and the motto of the Order of the Garter. It features detailed pargeting, a decorative relief technique in plaster. In addition to the garlands and other motifs, it features four panels representing the Tudor idea of the world--the continents of Africa, America, Asia and Europe. (Australia was yet to be discovered.) The four bays have beautiful oriel windows.

Ancient House

Ancient House pargeting detail

Of course, I stopped at every church I passed. St. Peter's by the Waterfront was not open that day, but I admired it and St. Lawrence from the outside. Ipswich still has twelve churches from medieval times, over half of which are still functioning as places of worship of the Church of England (although they were all built as Catholic churches). Architectural features of the exterior of these churches are the walls constructed of flint stones and the square bell towers. St. Lawrence has the oldest ring of five bells in a Christian church, all dating from the 15th century; they are rung only at lunchtime on Wednesdays and the first Sunday of every month. The former sanctuary is now a cafe. The Victorians added to the facade on the top portion of the church tower so that, while quite attractive, it no longer reflects the original building style. 

St. Lawrence's church and tower

Victorian facade above the original flint and limestone walls

Flint and limestone details at the bottom of the exterior walls of the church

In Christchurch Park on the north side of the main town, I admired the Wolsey Garden by the Christchurch Mansion and Wolsey Art Museum. The buildings are closed on Fridays, so I continued with my perambulation and found St. Margaret's Church. 

TO BE CONTINUED!

Lowestoft and on to the River Orwell

We arrived and docked at the Royal Norfolk and Suffolk Yacht Club at Lowestoft at 10:30 p.m. Monday, September 7, after nearly 28 hours of sailing and motoring across the North Sea from Helgoland, Germany. Exhausted, we went to bed for a full night of sleep.

On Tuesday morning, September 8, we awoke to rain and cloudy skies which lasted until dinner time. I woke up, ready to go, at 7 a.m., but no one else was out of bed, so I returned to the warmth of the covers and Peter's back and continued sleep until 10 a.m. We had an early lunch and then went to visit two old ships on Heritage Quay which Rob had discovered on his morning ramblings.

The first was the bright-green painted steel vessel Lydia Eva YH89, the last surviving steam drifter of the herring fishing fleet in East Anglia, built in 1930. She was larger than most other drifters of the time, fast and carrying half as many nets as other craft. Her size (29 meters or 95 feet in length) allowed a trawl winch to fitted forward of the wheelhouse so that she could be changed from a drifter to a trawler in less than 48 hours. She operated as a profitable fishing vessel until 1942, when she was requisitioned for military use during WWII. Until 1960, she remained attached to the Air Ministry, renamed the Watchmoor. after which she was scheduled twice for scrapping. Finally, in 1972, she was acquired by the Maritime Trust for preservation and then was purchased for a pound by the Lydia Eva and Mincarlo Trust, which has, through government financial support a much fund-raising, has restored her. 

The Lydia Eva

We were greeted by a friendly and knowledgeable volunteer, a local whose mother had been a net mender for the trawlers in Lowestoft. He spent well over half an hour with us showing us around and provided us with the ship's history and details about various items above and below deck. We visited the deck, the crew's sleeping quarters, the galley, the skipper's cabin, the fish hold, and the anchor chamber as well as the engine and boiler room. Peter and Rob particularly enjoyed the explanation of the steam triple expansion engine and the Scotch boiler, designed so that hot flue gases pass through tubes within a tank of water. The one on Lydia Eva has 190 tubes, providing a working pressure of 200 psi.

Rob, a volunteer and Peter in the engine room

The foredeck

All of us were fascinated by the human history connected with the operation of the Lydia Eva as a fishing vessel. Each autumn, she began her drifting operations off the coast of Scotland. Scotswomen of all ages followed the ship via land and were involved in cleaning and packing the catch. On average, they could gut 50 herrings per minute. A film made in the 1930s showed them at work doing their various tasks and also provided footage of the ship and her crew working at sea. 

After the volunteer showed us around, we continued to explore on our own to learn about the history of the ship and the nets, buoys, tools and other apparatus for the catch and the work on deck in getting the fish into the hold. There were cran baskets of various dimensions on display; a cran was an official government volume equal of 37.5 imperial gallons. Because a full cran basket was too heavy to lift when full, so fractional versions--half, quarter and eighth crans--were also used. These beautiful, strong baskets were made locally with osier, hazel and cane.

We next visited the Mincarlo on the other side of the finger pier, a trawler built in 1961 with a single-screw motor made in the town. She is the last surviving sidewinder fishing trawler of the 50 to 60 strong Lowestoft fishing fleet. Her catches consisted of cod, haddock, plaice, skate and sole. She operated as a trawler. until 1975. In 1977 she was converted to a stand-by vessel for the offshore gas and oil industry.

The deck of the Mincarlo

It was possible to visit all the cabins below deck as well as the engine room.  The forecastle is now a museum, with many photographs as well as fishing gear, including trawling nets, the 40 ft. long ground ropes that held the net on the seabed, and the heavy otter boards which held the net open as it scraped the bottom. Not unsurprisingly, the signs lamented the damage to the nets which this caused, sometimes requiring two days to repair, but there was no mention of the environmental damage. The best part of the museum was a film made in the 1960s by Esso which went into great detail about the intense and long training men received to become qualified to work on the trawlers, become mates and, for some, captains.

After our edifying visits to these two historic ships, we returned to our own ship to collect the massive amount of laundry we had as well as towels and toiletry kits before going to the large and well-appointed yacht clubhouse with the usual display of racing cups and trophies. We exchanged pounds for tokens to use in the large capacity washer and dryer, which allowed me to do all the laundry in two loads. The washing machine was efficient and took only 45 minutes to operate. The dryer, however, only ran for 30 minutes on a token, which the staff seemed to think would be sufficient. Needless to say, the clothes were not nearly dry, so I purchased two more dryer tokens, one for each load. Even an hour was not enough, so I went back to the staff to gently complain. The manager provided me with two extra tokens for free, and most of the clothes dried completely except for a pair of jeans and some of Peter's and Rob's sport shirts with collars.

I continued to go back and forth from the laundry room for four hours, including during dinner at the clubhouse, which was quite good. Surprisingly, even though the rain had finally stopped, we were the only customers that evening.

Even though we were in a harbor, the swell crept into the docks and Mantra gently rolled continuously all day and night. The movement rocked us to sleep. 

This morning, Rob and Peter woke up earlier than me and set off at 7:30 a.m. to take advantage of favorable currents. Only six hours later, sailing almost the whole time and cruising at a speed of over 10 knots, close-hauled (translation: uncomfortable heeling), we dropped anchor at 1:30 p.m. on the River Orwell just past the Port of Felixstowe, where enormous container ships were being loaded, including the Ever Given, the 400-meter ship that gained attention for blocking the Suez Canal for six day in March 2021. 

Peter at the helm on the way to the River Orwell

The notorious Ever Given off the bow

Two ships being loaded with cargo

After lunch, Peter and Rob launched the dinghy and went to Suffolk Yacht Harbour so that Rob could look at a sailboat he is considering buying. He has been perpetually looking at yachts for many years while his wife Susan has been steadfast in her lack of enthusiasm for becoming the proud owner of a boat.

While they have been gone, I have taken stock of provisions, planned dinner, successfully cleaned a fender that was covered with aluminum oxide from rubbing on the bumpers on the dock in Helgoland, and hung the still damp clean clothes. The wind is under 10 knots and the sun shines about five minutes of every hour, so whether they will dry is unknown. I have learned not to be optimistic.

Off the East Coast of England

The lights of the towns along the East Anglia coast are off our starboard side as we motor south toward the town of Lowestoft, where we hope to dock tonight after traveling since 6:40 a.m. yesterday (Sunday, September 6). The North Sea, particularly after the days of strong wind blowing across it before our departure has been uncomfortably lumpy most of the way, but we have had no problems and have maintained a good speed as we traveled beside or across major shipping lanes. Unfortunately, light winds and contrary currents prohibited us from sailing for the first twelve hours; just before 7:00 p.m., we were able to turn the engine off and sail through the night. I took the first watch from 9-12; Peter had the second watch and Rob took the last watch before sunrise. Luckily, the weather was rather warm. The skies were clear and the stars were bright. We maintained a speed of 10 knots for much of the night and through most of the morning before we again had to resort to the reliable engine for the rest of our voyage.

Far away, a huge floating oil and gas rig in the Troll field of the North Sea

We passed wind farms off the coast of the Netherlands, oil or gas rigs in the middle of the North Sea, giant cargo ships, fishing vessels and various marks for the shipping channels, occasionally having to make contact with the other vessels to confirm passing protocol. We spent the sometimes seemingly endless hours reading, eating, checking the wind and currents on phone apps and playing games--Farkle, Pass the Pigs and gin. 

Because we were able to maintain good speed, we crossed from Germany to England more quickly than anticipated, which is wonderful because I, for one, do not need to endure another night on watch. We will be docking at the Royal Norfolk & Suffolk Yacht Club in Lowestoft very shortly, so I am needed now as navigator.

Kiel Canal and Helgoland, Germany

We are trapped at Helgoland, Germany! Of and on, the rain pours down--plunk and splatter--on the deck. In the last six hours, 1 inch has fallen. We stayed down below this morning, and I am still here. When the the volume of precipitation decreased recently, Peter and Rob left the boat separately, Rob to explore and Peter to find a hardware store. A bit of rain is predicted tomorrow, but it is not rain that keeps us from sailing on, with only 4 days, including today, left on our visas. The wind is 20 knots from the west right now, our direction of travel. By 6:00 p.m. the sustained wind is predicted for 30, with gusts to 45 knots, continuing for the 24 hour period the next day. In the early hours of Sunday, September 6, it will begin to decrease steadily and be blowing from the northwest, finally allowing us to continue our journey toward England. By then, the wind will be lighter and backing throughout the day from NW to south. We probably need to make a run for it then, as the trip across the North Sea is more than two days (Yes, I am dreading it!) and the wind is expected to increase again after Tuesday. Fortunately, the wind seems to be more benign the closer we get to the east coast of England during this time frame, so perhaps our anxiety about the weather will prove to be unwarranted. 

Our transit through the Kiel Canal on Wednesday, September 2, was uneventful. We cast off the dock in Holtenau at 7 a.m. and were through the lock, along with several other sail boats and one container ship, by 7:30. Eight and a half hours later, at 4 p.m., we rafted up by a Dutch sail boat in the holding area for the Brunsbüttel Lock. We were in the lock at 5:20 with other sailboats and one tug. The water level rose 1.6 meters, the seaward gate opened and we were in the large mouth of the Elbe River. 

The 61-mile trip through the Kiel Canal was uneventful. Since autopilot is not allowed, someone had to be at the wheel at all times, so we took one and a half hour shifts. Passing through the flat Schleswig-Holstein region of northern Germany at close to 6 knots, we swept pass wooded areas, silos, various industrial sites and a few villages and cities with port facilities. Occasionally, we saw bevies of a dozen our more mute swans. An average of 90 cargo ships per day use the Kiel Canal. Several passed on in either direction, towering over us. The smallest load I counted was 250 containers. 

Our boat by the container ship in the Holtenau lock of the Kiel Canal

A bevy of mute swans

Container ship in the canal

It was calm in the canal, of course, but the waves and wind picked up as we motored down the Elbe and into the North Sea. We knew that adverse weather was coming and had to make a decision for a port to hole up for three days. Peter did not want to deal with currents when we start our next leg, so we chose the island of Helgoland, which the two of us visited in June. We recalled that after a two day stay, we had agreed that we had seen all there was to see there, so this destination did not really offer new areas of exploration for us.

In high wind, rain and rough seas, we sailed across the Bight of Germany to the island, avoiding shoals and navigating in the dark to the harbor, which was tricky to enter. I stayed below until we reached the outer harbor. The repeated ka-thump of the bow dropping back into the water after every wave raised her up did not facilitate sleep nor even rest, but I least I was warm and dry down below during the crossing. (We are so lucky to have Rob on board!) On this dark and stormy night, with 20 knots of wind from the southwest, we managed to find a spot at the head of the long dock on the southeast side of Helgoland. Rob and Peter had a cup of tea with biscuits, but I went directly to bed.

We all slept in the next morning and then found ways to amuse ourselves, including a game of Take 5. When the rain stopped in mid-afternoon, we left Mantra to walk around the island. In the heart of Untedland, we briefly visited a quite small natural history museum packed with specimens of sea birds and their eggs as well as marine life. All the information was is German, so we had to draw our own conclusions. (There is no signage and no menus in any language other than German anywhere on the island since, as far as we can tell, only Germans come here on holiday.) Then we stopped at a bagel shop just before 4 p.m. (closing time) and enjoyed sandwiches on fresh bagels. Then we set off for Uberland and the cliffs on the west side of the island. The town of 1,200 year-round residents is divided by a near-vertical 50 meter (164 foot) cliff between the area at sea level and the plateau of the higher ground. The plateau is reached either by elevator (at a small price) or flights of steps. We chose to walk as it is not a great difference in elevation and the stairways zig-zag up the slope. When we reached Uberland, we came across a small male singing group performing in front of a couple dozen people seated in front of a duty-free shop where they were enjoying the music and flights of whisky for 40 euros each.

Musical entertainment for whisky loving tourists

As soon as we arrived on the open cliff tops, we were literally almost blown away by the strong wind which sometime pushed us backwards or sideways. However, despite the breeze, it was warm. Admiring the steep red sandstone cliffs at the base of which are sea walls all along the coast, we made it to the northwest part of the small island where seabirds nest, the 2.7 acre nature reserve Lummenfelsen. Over 400 bird species have been recorded on this isolated island. Peter and I had been here on these cliffs three months ago, on June 5, and observed the guillemots and northern gannets (the largest sea birds in the North Atlantic) clinging to the sides of the cliffs and nesting on the exposed tops. By early June, the guillemots, which arrive in mid-April and nest on the cliff faces, have produced their young and by the middle of the month all of the hatchlings, not yet able to fly, leap off the cliffs into the sea, where their parents wait for them. Now, the guillemots are gone. However, to our elation, the adult northern gannets are till present--along with their young.

The gannets have a longer breeding season, and the young are practically the size of the adults before they can soar and fly. When we were here in June, the parents--over 700 breeding pairs--were sitting on the closely placed mound nests, having started the nesting process in late March or April using seaweed, plants, earth and debris from the sea, largely collected by the males. Only one egg per pair is laid, although a replacement egg may be produced if one is lost. Now, the eggs have hatched, having been incubated for 42 to 46 days. 

The adults are stunning in form and color. They have white plumage with black to dark-brown wingtips. The head and neck are tinged buff-yellow, a hue which becomes more pronounced in breeding season. Fine black lines separate the parts of the head, including the mandible, forehead and throat. The beaks are a very light shade of blue. The fascinating eyes are surrounded by black bare skin and have a cobalt outer ring and a light gray-blue iris. The four toes of the feet are joined by a dark gray to dark brown. Distinct lines that are greenish-yellow in males and blue in females run along the tops of the toes. The wings of the northern gannet are long and narrow and are positioned towards the front of the body, allowing efficient use of air currents. 

Adult caring for its baby who is still losing its down

Details of a northern gannet's head

Throat view

Male adult with is baby

Soaring northern gannets

Closely spaced nests

In contrast to the sleek whiteness of the adults, the plumage of the young is dark-brown to slate-gray with fluffy tufts of down; their beaks are black and their feet are a muddy brown color. Born featherless, they grow a thick, wooly layer of white down within the first two weeks. This is gradually replaced by darker plumage flecked with triangular-shaped spots, one at the end of each feather. When we saw them yesterday, the juveniles were in various stages of losing their fluffy feathers. The adults feed the young until they are ready to launch into flight and go to the sea, 84 to 97 days after hatching. 

It was a thrill to watch the adults hanging almost motionless close to the cliff, almost effortlessly, it seemed, holding their place in the high winds. As in June, it was with reluctance that I left the cliffs to continue on our walk. We passed over to the lee side of the island and walked down a long stairway to North Beach, where the sand is dotted with red rocks and bricks and seaweed lines the shoreline where sandpipers hunt for food until disturbed by our presence, taking to the air in undulating flight low over the water. We walked along the east side of the island to return to the dock. Along the way, our sense of smell was entranced by the sweet fragrance of wildflowers, including common tansy and rock samphire.

Guillemot at North Beach

North Beach on Helgoland

Common tansy by the waterfront

Rock samphire 

Yesterday evening, we had dinner at a restaurant called Pizza or Pasta Brun, which was quite good. Peter and Rob enjoyed large bottles of German beer. On the way back to our boat, we made a slight detour in the harbor area to see His Danish Majesty's Yacht, the Dannebrog. We had seen her anchored in Copenhagen. Talking to a couple crew members on watch, we learned that she was on her way to Belgium when a detour was necessitated by the funeral of King Harald of Norway in Oslo, scheduled to take place on September 9. She is a gorgeous vessel, painted cream white and golden-yellow with a clipper bow and an elliptical stern. She was commissioned in 1932 by Queen Alexandrine.

The Dannebrog

A few hours have passed since I began this post. Rob and Peter returned and we had a healthy lunch of salad. Now the wind is howling at 30 mph from the west with gusts to 37, and the rain continues. The boat is swaying with the choppy waves in the harbor and the force of the wind, the fenders creaking against the dock.

The Mad Race to Get out of the Schengen area

Note:  This was yesterday's post that somehow did not get published.

This morning it was another early start, at 7:25. Since I was not keeping the log book today, and other people do not bother to record it, our speed unknown by me. We did sail more than we motored with westerly winds from 10-14 knots. Whether we were on a port or starboard tack or on what point of sail would also be unknown except the heeling of the boat clearly indicated we were sailing close-hauled, the most uncomfortable point of sail even on smooth water. But we were sailing into waves, so it was worse. Seasickness is not the issue. However, standing up generally requires pulling oneself with handholds out of a seated position, and walking is unbalanced. Sitting on the lee side of the boat, the upper body is pressed against the seat or window. On the high side, small muscles not generally used have to keep the torso from falling forward. Lying down is more comfortable than sitting, so I take breaks to do that. 

The gimbaled stove and a pull for the galley sump pump showing the angle

View from the lee side in the saloon

For the last three days, I have been up in the pilot house when the sun is out and it is warmer. Most of my time is spent down below. I manage to prepare meals and to read, but there is not much else to occupy the time. Twelve hours of sailing is a long time, particularly at a 12-15 degree tilt. We have made it to the entrance to the Kiel Canal and, unlike the previous two nights, we are on a dock in a nice area with mansions on the waterfront in Holtenau. We walked to the point and had scrumptious sandwiches at a cafe and the guys had local beers.

Rob and Peter at the Schiffercafe

Tomorrow we get up early again to transit through the 61-mile (98-kilometer) Kiel Canal, the world's busiest manmade seagoing waterway, which can only be used by pleasure craft during daylight hours. It is generally done in two days, but we are not stopping to enjoy anything on shore. We have passed by forests and islands and villages for the last three days, and even the impressively large Kronborg Slot in Helsingør, but we have had to satisfy ourselves with passing views.

Kronborg Slot, Helsingør

Tomorrow we will be exiting the Baltic Sea, having seen so little of it, and coming out at the end of the day in the North Sea. The Kiel Canal, formerly the Kaiser Wilhelm Kanal, was constructed between 1887 and 1895 by 9,000 workers and widened between 1907 and 1914. The motivation was military; Emperor Wilhelm I and Chancellor Otto von Bismarck called for its construction so that the imperial navy could move quickly between the North Sea and the Baltic Sea without entering foreign of Danish waters. 

So, now it's off to bed to get a good night's sleep before an early awakening.

Copenhagen with Friends and Onward around Denmark

On the evening Rob arrived (Friday, August 28), shortly after coming on board, the skies began to dump rain, as they had from time to time throughout the day. After 15 minutes, the downpour stopped, and we went ashore and had a great dinner at a restaurant right by our mooring.

The next morning, the three of us left the boat and walked to the Royal Danish Library, nicknamed the Black Diamond due to its architecture, arriving before 9 a.m. as the first swimmers in the TrygFonden Copenhagen Swim were getting ready to start. Having skipped breakfast, we went into the library's cafe when it opened and had a quick morning meal. Then we went back to the pier to look for John and Phoebe Hartz and see them start their 2,000 meter race. While they were getting ready to plunge into the water, we joined up with Catherine (John's wife), William (one of their sons), his girlfriend Feerla, Phoebe's boyfriend Jesse and John's sister Lilly to cheer them on. We got our exercise, quickly walking and sometimes running to see both of them. John surged ahead, but in the end Phoebe was not far behind him, even though she posed with her flashing smile for photos at the bridges. John and Phoebe swam hard and had a good time, and we were delighted to watch them compete.

Phoebe standing on the pontoon talking to John in the water

John (center) off to a strong start

Phoebe pausing to acknowledge her supporters on one of the bridges

Phoebe exhibiting good form

John nearing the finish

Phoebe and Jesse

Catherine congratulating John while avoiding getting wet

Phoebe and John on the podium

After their swim, we all hung around the finish line for a while. John and Phoebe (with Jesse) went to take showers and the rest of us walked through the streets of Copenhagen to the old meatpacking district, where the Festivalpladsen in Kødbyen was taking place. Along the walk we passed a large sculptural piece entitled "Dante in Dialogue with the 21st Century or  Fuck Q-Park's parking basement. It's a provocative protest art installation located at Dantes Plads in central Copenhagen. Danish sculptor Jens Galschiøt created the installation to mark the 700th anniversary of Dante Alighieri’s death. Local residents, businesses, and associations commissioned or supported the piece to fight plans by Q-Park and the City of Copenhagen to build an underground parking garage beneath the green square. Locals argued the project would destroy old trees, damage historic buildings, ruin a playground, and increase traffic pollution. It features four red/copper shouting busts of Dante on a central pillar, surrounded by four “pig-men” statues (representing “the inner beast/basest urges like hate and intolerance”).  A prominent forearm rises from the center giving a giant middle finger directly toward the proposed parking development area. 

Dante in Dialogue with the 21st Century

The open-air food festival featured amazingly delicious food, and the venders were able to make the dishes for me without the base of rye bread. It's a staple here--but I hate it. We enjoyed a lot of great conversation and were joined by friends of the Hartz's, some of whom also competed.

Peter, William, Anna, Phoebe on left and Jesse, Lilly, John and Rob on right

Catherine, William, Phoebe and Jesse came to visit Mantra and stayed on board for an hour so. Peter was thrilled to show William and Jesse the electronics, navigation systems and the engine room while the rest of us relaxed in the saloon.

Shortly after they left, as arranged, Alan Christopherson arrived. He is a friend of the Brown boys whom they last saw around 1970 on the farms where they lived as children on Mt. Kilimanjaro. Not knowing what each other had been doing for the last 55 years, Peter, Rob and Alan quickly updated each other about their lives since their adolescent years. We were pleased to learn the Alan, a son of a sometime irascible Danish father and a mother with a Greek background, who had moved in his late teens to Denmark on his own, not speaking the language, and through a series of apprenticeships and hard work and ambition, had achieved great success and set up his own business. He also married a delightful Danish woman, Rita Juul, who creates astounding works of art. We saw these when we went to their town home a few miles away, where many are displayed. They live in a half-timbered house from the mid-1800's which has been updated but kept its architectural charm. The five of us had a delightful evening together.

Peter, Alan and Rob on the quay

The next morning, Rob, Peter and I walked a few blocks to a small supermarket where we bought provisions for the next part of our journey. Just before 11 a.m., we cast off and went under the Trangravsbroen, a three-way butterfly bridge that opens on the hour. The last two days we have been sailing when we can and motoring when we can't, en route to the Kiel Canal. The weather alternates many times a day, sunny then cloudy then rainy and repeat. Last night we anchored in a bay near the town of Rørvig near the entrance to Isefjord, having traveled more than nine and half hours for 60 miles. Today, weighing anchor at 7:15, we traveled for 70 miles in 12 hours, and are now anchored by a little sandy island called Musholm. Tomorrow we plan to make it to the western entrance of the Kiel Canal.

Copenhagen

After I prepared another of dishes to put in the refrigerator for later, took a shower and wrote an earlier post today, I left the boat to explore Copenhagen. Peter had left after lunch to find a chandlery and get some parts and supplies.

I crossed the bridge from the island of Amager to the island of Zealand, which is the main island where Copenhagen is situated. From the bridge, I could observe some of the swimmers participating in the two-day TrygFonden Copenhagen Swim (also know as the Christiansborg Rundt since the course circles around the the islet of Slotsholmen where the enormous Christianborg Palace is. This weekend there will be over 5,800 participants. This afternoon and evening includes a 4 x 500 meter relay and a 10,000 ultra distance swim and later a 2,000 meter night swim with glowing buoys. Tomorrow throughout the day there are 1,000 and 2,000 meter races. Our British friend John and his daughter Phoebe are participating in one of these.

Swimmers in the event

Christiansborg Palace

More swimmers

As I walked through the palace grounds and to the other side of Slotshomen, I stopped again to watch the swimmers while admiring the architecture and ambiance of downtown Copenhagen. I walked passed Tivoli Gardens to get to the tourist information center where I picked up a helpful map and some hints of things to see in a short time.

Strolling along pedestrian streets, I peeked into shops and looked at architectural details high up on buildings. I stopped into the Lutheran Church of Sankt Petri for a Baroque concert featuring viola de gamba, violin, cembalo and organ. The acoustics and the music itself were amazing. Inside and out it is a simple building, with the nave dating back to 1450, making it the oldest church still functioning as a church in central Copenhagen. The church was enlarged in 1557. In 1585, Frederick II presented the church to his German-speaking subjects, and it has been the parish church for the German-speaking Lutheran community in Copenhagen since then.

Buildings along Nybrogade

Copenhagen City Hall

Church of Sankt Petri

The concert in Church of Sankt Petri

Walking back to the boat, I passed more brick facades with traditional gables, enjoyed the ambiance in Højbro Plads and watched the beginning of one of the relay races by Nybrogade.

Jorcks Passage

Amagertory Square

Statue of Bishop Absalon on Højbro Plads in Copenhagen
with the green copper spire of St. Nikolaj Church in the background

I returned to Mantra by way of interesting streets in Christianshavn, passing many enticing restaurants. Peter's brother Rob is arriving soon to join us for our trip to and through the Kiel Canal and perhaps for the North Sea crossing. Whether we go out to eat or dine on board depends on the rainfall.

Building facade in Christianshavn