Whitehaven (Part 1 of 2)

 

Whitehaven was the kind of town where I'd expect the ship to do well. Medium-size and a little bit isolated, so we were a big story when we arrived and honestly there wasn't all that much else to do in a close radius. The town had a strong maritime history; it had once been the third-largest shipping port in the UK, with trade links all over the world, until ships grew so big that they'd no longer fit in its harbour, and went to Liverpool or Glasgow. It mined and exported coal, and imported tobacco and cane sugar and rum, and was involved in the triangle slave trade, until those things declined too. Here's a huge annotated photo dump from our time there.

The town crier welcomed us to Whitehaven. (Actually we had arrived in the dark of night; he, the town dignitaries, and the lord of a nearby castle, were part of our opening ceremony the next morning.

The text of his proclamation. He was also a great local tourguide and had many suggestions for us for spending our days off.

At the opening ceremony, one of several "gifts" the ship received was a bottle of rum, along with more traditional gifts representing the city, and a plaque for our collection.

I found it charming that they invited the police to join the photo of all the dignitaries at the opening ceremony.

Here's a rather somber story. Remember I said this town, Whitehaven, was important for coal mining. It fueled the Industrial Revolution. Here on the grounds of the old church is a monument to all the children who lost their lives in the mines. The youngest I saw was 8 years old! Most date from the mid-1800s. There are names on all 4 sides of the monument.

Some more images from the church grounds. 

overview of church and gardens

Poppies, and memorial to world war soldiers

graves at the church where George Washington’s grandmother is buried — in some traditions you’re **supposed** to step on these gravestones by custom, something about shortening their time in purgatory, but I just can’t help it feeling disrespectful. While Dan was serving in Korea he attended a funeral where they literally danced on the grave, called the "happy mound." It tamped the grave and celebrated that the newly deceased was in a happier place. In the case of this church the stones had been falling over and crumbling so they were laid flat for preservation rather than superstition. 

Her actual gravestone isn't found in the church site, but there is a marker.

Some other pictures and stories from around town:

One particularly nice day we hiked to the headland behind the ship. This is the preserved entrance to one of the coal mines in the area, the site of one of the worst disasters in the area when a mine explosion cost many lives, sadly accepted as a necessary evil for their way of making a living back in those days.

There's a local museum, one of two that offered free visits to our crew, that told the story of rum and its linkage to the town.

The rum story museum acknowledged the role that slavery played in the town's historic prosperity. I was slightly startled at the boldness and humility of the admission -- and then reflected that the fact that I was startled by it said more about how appallingly bad the US is about reconciling that chapter in our own history.

Mosaics in the pavement depict images of town history.

In modern times there’s also iron mining nearby and a flooded drainage tunnel has brought dramatically stained water to the marina.

Some images of the ship at the dock in town by local photographers, our town crier (first photo; sorry I'm missing the name atm), Andreea Dragos (second and third photos) and Tom Kay (fourth and fifth photos).

There was an "international food festival" over the weekend. Tents offered Spanish, Greek, Portuguese, Middle Eastern food. We ended up going back twice for Gambian food.

The proprietors of our favourite food stall.

Many cultures have some version of hot meat or vegetables wrapped in bread. I don't remember the name of this Gambian vegetarian delight, and probably couldn't pronounce it if I did, but we really appreciated the slight spiciness.

The Foundation that owns the ship is reluctant to use it for most filming, both for financial reasons and because we really don't want to be a fantasy pirate ship; our mission is education. They make exceptions for historical documentaries, and we've been in several over the years. While we were in Whitehaven we were the backdrop for a thoughtful piece, based on the true story of an English king (I never got straight which "Charles") by disguising himself as a poor man and fleeing on a ship. A lot of exploration of who you are when you've lost your external identity. I can't wait to see the final version of this.

The cast getting some blocking directions before filming.

I really wanted to get a photo of the "nobility" from the movie, in our Zona Noble, but there wasn't time.

A secret Catholic Mass held in the cargo hold

The "commoners" posing in front of the ship. Note the very long shadows; filming started at 06:30 each morning.

More rum, and more adventures around town:

Rum of a different brewery also gifted to the ship. Captain wasn't available for this one so the first officer accepted the gift. 

On a rainy afternoon on one of our days off we found this used bookstore. I love this kind of place, a labyrinth with surprises everywhere. I found the sequel to a charming book I'd had since I was young; I hadn't known a sequel existed. More books to carry home! 

The bookstore had copies of random funny typos pasted up on the shelves. I don't know what to make of this one, "Please keep your longings with you at all times." Obviously they mean "belongings" but you can make quite a philosophical case for the accidental message. Does it mean, if you're infatuated with your coworker keep it to yourself? Or maybe, don't give up your dreams, hold them close? Something else?  

As soon as they heard my accent, visitors to the ship joked about the time John Paul Jones came to town 23 April 1778; the only unfriendly American intrusion onto British soil. He and his men spiked the harbour's defensive cannons, rendering them useless, as this monument depicts. Townies also told us that he sent the men into town to get (something), but instead they got drunk and were unable to complete the mission.

One day off, we walked all over town. Tired and ready to head back to the ship, Dan realized he'd lost his favourite hat somewhere along the way. We retraced all of our (many) steps and finally found it here, at almost the very last place on our circuit. Someone had kindly picked it up from the ground where it had fallen and hung it on the stanchion of this restaurant -- I'm not sure that would have happened at home. We would have gone in for a celebratory drink but they were closed.

And yet another bottle of rum gifted to the ship -- did everyone have the same idea? I really liked this particular pub and we would have come more often, but the local drunk seemed to have gotten fixated with us. The first time we met her, she complained about being stupid and how bad her life was, well, okay, sometimes that's what drunks do. But after that, she decided she was our "friend." Every place she saw us in town after that she'd plonk down to join us and complain about her effing life. It was ... weird. Meanwhile, Sean, the bar owner who gave us the bottle, asked us for pictures of it in our next few ports. I delightedly complied, and emailed him pictures from the next 3 or 4 places until finally emailing a picture of the captain holding it.