From the Tres Hombres logbook

Bram Hoestra went along as a passenger on the Tres Hombres. A few voyages later, he is a boatswain. And he thoroughly enjoys life at sea every day.

Out of the fog she emerged. An eerie and grey evening, her outline slowly sharpened as she approached us with little wind and her sails were set one by one before she dropped anchor. Douarnenez, two years ago, when I first saw Tres Hombres. Since then, I have spent about as much time on board as on land.

Initially, I had booked one trip, which turned into two months of sailing. The following year, to my mild surprise, I was allowed to return to work as a sailor, sailing along the coast of Europe. Two months later – to my surprise – I took her to the Caribbean and back again.

And now, also not quite expected, I am back on board, as boatswain this time. For the third consecutive time, Tres Hombres sailed from Getaria to Copenhagen with a cargo hold full of natural wine – and me.
In Getaria, I was again introduced to the chaotic life ashore that seems to follow reaching port with the Tres. A few days of chaos; parties, friends, delicious meals and drinks in beautiful locations, and I began to long for the wide, open sea again. “Are we leaving tomorrow?”, I asked the captain. “Yes, time to go, isn’t it?” There was a twinkle in his eyes.

The Bay of Biscay has so far failed to live up to its infamous reputation. Although we are not sailing fast, we are moving steadily in the right direction. Ahead of us lies the complicated manoeuvre through the English Channel, but out here we encounter only occasional seabirds, jumping tuna and a friendly cloud in the sky. The occasional breeze blows. And when the wind picks up, we sail smoothly and powerfully across a flat sea. At a speed of five knots on a westerly course, we sailed straight towards the setting sun. There was not a cloud in the sky and I sent my watch’s trainees to the bowsprit and woke the others in anticipation of the spectacle. The sun was sinking below the horizon. It was as if a bell rang in the distance as its last rays lit up green. […]

After preparing the bread, I stepped out of the galley and found myself in a dome of constellations. With a new moon, the stars shone brilliantly overhead. Currently, the sun is in Cancer, but from the tail of Leo to the mischievous peak above the horizon in Gemini, we could find all the other constellations. With binoculars, we could see Uranus and the Andromeda Nebula and count the stars of the Pleiades. When the others came for the dogwatch, I went all out and led them on a tour of the northern hemisphere. Of course there was a meteor… it was one of those nights. A fireball as big as I had never seen before shot straight above us, from the stern to the bow, and showed us the way.
Orion rose, accompanied by another series of pastel rainbow colours. As the wind turned and we followed, the sun rose over the starboard bow. I was lucky that one of the trainees tapped me on the shoulder during breakfast as the sun rose. The bread had also risen. It was perfect.

The seas of western Europe have not changed much. Choppy, compared to the ocean. A few more wind farms, oil rigs and lots of traffic you try to avoid. The ship with all its dynamics and crew changes is a familiar and safe place for me. Our captain put it beautifully today: aboard this ship, people find patience and trust. That is what she does. As always, in the first few weeks after boarding, I become less agitated, more balanced and ironically more grounded.

But a lot has changed from two years ago. What I loved about becoming a deckhand was that if I saw something I thought I should do; reeling up a rope or taking the initiative to clean something, I could just decide to do it because, after all, that’s what I was hired to do. I didn’t have to ask anyone first. I drew the roof of the navy room full of diagrams in chalk to teach about navigation signals and apparent wind, and I kept morale high on chilly nights by reading to my watch from the fantastic “The 13 1/2 lives of Captain Bluebeard”.

Now it is like being in a huge playground with too many structures to choose from. Every little part on board needs attention and care. Ropes, spars, sails, rigging, planks, metalwork, water, the dinghy…. They all need treatment and all the work is interesting (except tarring endless sizes of manila). It was a bit overwhelming and yet I feel that this new role is the natural next step in my development as a sailor on Tres Hombres.
I’d say there’s a good chance I’ll be sailing from Getaria to Copenhagen again. Who knows in what role – there are still a few to try. As I step forward, I have found that so far there is no less, only more to discover. And soon it will be time for my third farewell party!

Bram Hoestra.
Image: Fairtransport

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