Sea Time

We were scheduled to spend the entire month of July in Canada, celebrating the 150th anniversary of their existence. We'd visit 5 cities, the first 3 weekends in smallish towns with a subset of the 51-ship tall ship fleet; then the last two all together again in Quebec City and Halifax. First up, Pictou, Nova Scotia -- a tiny town that I had never heard of. Not that surprising, as it housed less than 5,000 people.

Leaving Provincetown for Pictou was the first long-ish passage of the tour, and I quickly fell into my meditative at-sea rhythm. My notebook is full of random jottings as my mind quieted from the quick zigzags that I'm used to when on land and in internet range, to thinking more slowly and deeply: notes on the weather, our latitude-longitude, odd Spanish phrases or idioms, and my musings on advancing age and whether we could/should do the Atlantic crossing. Being indoors, with climate control and artificial light, we're insulated from the daily cycles of the natural world. But now, without the distractions of the internet, and surrounded by air and water and light (and little else!), the cycles of light and darkness, clear days or cloudy, wind or calm, were impossible to miss or ignore.

Sunset at sea. And since we were on watch 8 PM to midnight, we were always on deck to see it.

When the seas were sparklingly clear and calm, anyone who wasn't needed for navigation spent their watch doing ship maintenance of the kind that we couldn't do when we were open for visitors

Captain Pablo was willing to get his hands dirty too!

I love contrast and juxtaposition -- the con trails of modern jets almost seem to echo the rigging of our older form of transportation

When the Captain told us we had crossed the international boundary, Dan and Ryan changed out the U.S. courtesy flag for the Canadian one

Over the next month, we got used to seeing it high in the rigging

Perhaps in the old days this would have been a common sight -- one tall ship meets another, just a smudge of white sails on the horizon

Gorgeous when they got up close; one of our fellow ships on the tour, Europa

At the helm -- my favourite job! Here, early in the summer, we're in the middle of the ocean, nothing to hit. Later on as I gained confidence, the captain had me steering in ever-more challenging conditions.

Fog so thick you can't tell where the sky ends and the ocean begins.  Not all days are vacation-brochure sunshine! 

Safety training: fire drill.

After 3-1/2 rejuvenating days at sea the scent of land is always overwhelming. It's as though spending time surrounded by that clean sweet air resets -- and re-sensitizes -- your sense of smell. After our last long passage, the ordinary smell of farmland seemed terribly strong to me, like a feedlot. This time coming in to Canada smelled the magical delicious scent of true pine.

We're docked across from a ship of the Ecuadorian Navy. Since we couldn't leave the dock until we were cleared in by Canadian Customs and Immigration, a quick game of "football" (American soccer) was organized. It helped that there was no language barrier. 

A proper Pictou welcome, with bagpipes.

Canada Day -- military uniforms from two different periods in their history

Lots of crowds on Canada Day. We had almost 3,000 visitors per day -- a very impressive turnout for a town whose population was only 5,000.

Not quite sure what the deal was with the inflatable pirates but they were everywhere in town. Here with me, Jemima, Bosco, and Fernando. 

Random bit of the street, Pictou