11 ways to experience the maritime tradition on a trip to the Netherlands, part 1

By the time I debarked from my two-month tall ship journey, not only did I know how to belay, sew sails, and polish brass, I had a healthy curiosity about the Dutch–this strange, tall seafaring race that taught me how to do all of that stuff. It was weird that I’d spent two months learning about this culture, but had never actually visited the country.

Last month, I remedied that. Word somehow got around that I was in the country, and my trip was soon full with reunions with shipmates-turned-friends-for-life, beer and gossip flowing, and (just like on the ship) plenty of tears (long story, but what can I say? The sea, even the memory of the sea, makes me emotional). Oh Captain, My Captain was on hand to squire me around, introduce me to virtually everyone in the country ever associated with ships, and show me a few spots I never would have found on my own.

That aside, if you’re just there to take in the sights (probably a safer option), you don’t have to go far–from the canals to the museum art, the sea is never far.

1. THE NATIONAL MARITIME MUSEUM, Amsterdam

Exterior of the National Maritime Museum (Het Scheepvartmuseum).

Exterior of the National Maritime Museum (Het Scheepvartmuseum), with the ship Amsterdam visible.

Of the two maritime museums I visited in the Netherlands, this was my favorite. Het Scheepvartmuseum, as it’s known, is located in a formal naval storehouse constructed in 1636, and you can tour the replica of the 18th-century East Indiaman Amsterdam. The audio tours are free!

It also has a first edition of Maximilian Transylvanus’ work, De Moluccis Insulis, which described Ferdinand Magellan’s voyage around the world.

My favorite was the starlit navigation room, which had old-fashioned astrolabes and compasses, and reminded me of long, cloudless nights at sea, searching for constellations like Scorpio and the Southern Cross.

2. MUSEUMHAVEN, Amsterdam

One of the Museumhaven's grand dames.

One of the Museumhaven’s grand dames.

If you’re traveling with a kid, you might be on your way to the science museum Nemo, a truly astonishing feat of engineering sticking out from the Oosterdok area. But on the way, you can check out the Museumhaven, a little piece of (free!) ship geek heaven. Long gone are the days when sailing ships transported freight along the inland waterways, and if you travel the canals, you can see what happened to a lot of them. But the ships here still have their masts attached and give you a glimpse of the way things used to be, as they wait to be restored to their former glory. You can stop and read the placards about all of them.

3. THE FERRY, Amsterdam

DSCN1830

The view of Amsterdam across the river IJ, with cruise ship.

Another awesome free way to get a sailor’s-eye view of Amsterdam. The ferries are free and leave frequently just north of Central Station, are often packed with pedestrians, cyclists and motorbikes. There’s not a whole lot to see in Noord, separated as it is from the rest of Amsterdam by the river IJ. But what more do you need than to sit on the bench, admire the Amsterdam skyline, and watch the ships go by? When I was there, a gigantic passenger ship was blocking part of the view–just a sign that Amsterdam is regaining its place as a cruise destination. There’s a conveniently placed bar there, too–you’re never too far from a place to drink a beer in Amsterdam.

4. MARITIME MUSEUM, Rotterdam

The view from the museum harbor.

The view from the museum harbor.

The whole city is like a living maritime museum exhibit, given that it was the world’s largest port for hundreds of years. Unfortunately, you won’t see the working port if you stay within the city center. However, you can experience the historical part of it by visiting the Maritime Museum (just don’t go when there’s a birthday party going on, yikes!), which is located just a few blocks from Central Station. The focal point is the museum harbor outside, where you can tour a grain elevator and any other ship that happens to be open at the time–which isn’t always easy to tell.

Grain elevator you can go onboard and tour.

Grain elevator you can go onboard and tour.

5. Offices of Rederij Bark Europa and Oosterschelde, Rotterdam

Of course, this won’t mean as much to someone who, like me, didn’t spend two months on one of these ships, but since I did, it was like visiting an old friend. The ships themselves weren’t there–the Oosterschelde was spending the summer cruising in Norway. But I did get to see sister ship the Helena–which met the Oosterschelde when it returned to Rotterdam from its circumnavigation. Plus, their office is on a boat, and it’s right in the museum harbor, so you don’t have to make another trip.

Knock knock! Anyone home?

Knock knock! Anyone home?

Warning: Don’t bother with buying a water taxi ticket in the museum. I waited in line for 30 minutes only to have my spot taken by a bunch of rowdy schoolkids and their teacher (getting on the boat with hem would have been fairly close to my personal definition of hell, so I didn’t even try). Instead, wait for the other water taxi (below). It won’t take long, promise!

Anchors aweigh.

Anchors aweigh.

6. Water Taxi and Hotel New York, Rotterdam

The view from the Rotterdam water taxi.

The view from the Rotterdam water taxi.

The water taxi delivers you to the very Art Deco Hotel New York. It’s a short ride and the cool breeze of the harbor feels incredible, especially if you happen to be there, like I was, during the biggest heat wave to hit Europe in a long time. No ticket required–you can pay cash to the taxi “driver,” and one leaves just about every few minutes. “You come back, there’s a boat,” as the guy put it .

Enjoying the summer heat wave in front of the hotel.

Enjoying the summer heat wave in front of the hotel.

Plus you get to see the Hotel New York, former HQ of the Holland America Line, which is only accessible this way. Supposedly there’s a great view from the top, but I couldn’t find the way up. I was on my way to Brussels so I had to keep to my schedule, but I would have loved to linger here longer and have a drink. Plenty of others were!

Hotel New York

Hotel New York

To be continued…

It happened to me (oh boy, did it!)

Mermaid returns to sea.

My adventure to the Netherlands (with stopovers in Iceland and Belgium) is in the record books, and I’m preparing a longer blog post about what I found in The Hague, Rotterdam, Amsterdam and beyond. Word gets around remarkably fast in a tiny country, so I met up with no less than 5 former shipmates (3 more than I expected)! At last, I could drink too much, surround myself with people who “get it,” and shamelessly try to recapture the time in my life when I was most happy, and most at peace, while simultaneously feeling like my world might fall apart any moment.

I know, it doesn’t make any sense to me, either.

Anyway, upon my arrival home, I found that the article I wrote for XOJane’s It Happened to Me section, based on some incidents from my book, is now live, so I invite you to check it out. Consider it a sexy little taste of the sexiest parts of my book–eet smakelijk, as they say in Holland.

I’m never leaving home again! The perils of the cautious adventurer

cropped pic free people

Home sweet home.

Just kidding. I think anybody who’s had an exhausting/depleting/demoralizing/expensive/unforeseen/confusing time while traveling, has had this thought. When I made it home from my sailing trip, I had missed two flights, gotten stranded in the Azores, been rerouted to Lisbon (this was a good thing in “Casablanca,” but it wasn’t for me) and exchanged what I thought would be a cozy hotel room in Boston for a hard airport floor in Toronto.

I think I slept for a week when I finally made it home, 2 days later than I was originally supposed to.

But the thing about pirates is that they go where the wind–and the treasure–takes them.

So that’s why today I’m head to the Netherlands, to reunite with some of the kindest, most generous, and most entertaining people I’ve ever known–my fellow sailors, and to see the place that gave birth to the ship I spent two months on, and maybe see what that Dutch maritime tradition is all about. I’ll be staying with Oh Captain, My Captain up north in Groningen for a few days, then going down to Amsterdam to stay with another former shipmate (one of the Estrogen Triad), to check out Anne Frank’s hideout; the Rijksmuseum; and hopefully some other things I’ve read about but never experienced (there’s a lot of those, but someday, I’ll check them all off my list).

And believe it or not, I love adventure. But I’m also an ENTJ, which means every one of “spontaneous adventures” have to be planned out two years in advance.

But that’s the thing about travel–the more you do, the more you want to do, and the more people invite you to do.

And I’m going to do it all–or attempt to do it–while working. That’s the good thing about NOT being on a ship, is that I won’t have to cut all earthly ties with the world for two months, and I won’t have to start from Square One when I get back. Of course, there’s a chance I could miss out on opportunities, or my computer could break down and I’ll go out of touch unexpectedly and make my editors mad.

I’m terrified, of course. I was born afraid, and I probably always will be.

And I don’t have a return ticket yet, and my parents don’t want me to go, and my dog will miss me.

Naturally, I’ve been drinking since 11:30.

I’m never leaving home again.

The effortless grace and precision…of advertising

Recently, I saw press release from Star Clippers, a company I follow with some interest, given that its owner, Mikael Krafft, has managed to commodify tall ships and turn them into a viable tourist business. They already have a fleet of three, one of which, the Royal Clipper, already holds the distinction of being the largest five-masted ship in the world. Now they’re building one that’s even bigger, complete with 300 staterooms, a watersports complex and a tropical bar for “evening entertainment” that we can assume goes beyond some drunk dude strumming “Sloop John B” on the guitar.

New Building No. 4, as it’s currently being termed.

One thing, though, really gets me about Star Clippers. One of their selling points in the advertising literature to potential passengers is that they can watch the “perfectly harmonious” crew working together in the “effortless grace and precision” that you can only witness in the “timeless art” of tall ship sailing.

[Pardon me for a second.]

BWAHAHAHAH.

The most recent tall ship I sailed on dates back from the early part of the century, when it was a working cargo ship. From the outside, it’s pretty much a hunk of junk. The much-nicer interior has been completely redone, but in an old style. Someone owns it, of course; I think a couple of Dutch businessmen. But it’s more a floating museum than anything; a traveling token of history. People do pay to sail on it, but whatever cash they fork over could never, ever equal the experience they’re getting. Most importantly, onboard, no one’s a passenger. There’s guest crew and professional crew, but we’re all crew. You steer, you haul, you climb. You sail. There’s no science or art about it. Nothing exact, anyway. There are people getting hit in the head by wooden blocks, sails ripping apart, engines malfunctioning, toilets backing up and overflowing, paint cans blowing over and dripping all over the deck. Tacking (sailing into the wind) is such a labored ordeal you have to try it three times to get it right. Believe me, for lack of a better term, you see how the sausage is made.

In fact, if you tried to describe to a professional sailor that anything about what he or she does is “graceful” or “precise,” they’d just laugh in your face. An actual sailor I knew well, when I was frustrated with everybody on board telling me what do, assured me “Most of the guys on this ship don’t know shit about sailing. And neither do we.” (Meaning the professional crew, of course). I felt better after that. Because the fact is, you can sail for decades, but you’re always learning, and there’s always more to learn. That’s the sea.

It makes me kind of sad that the passengers on Star Clippers may debark at their destination and without ever really understanding that.

Meanwhile, some guy in Florida is also building the world’s largest superyacht, one that includes space for two helicopters and your own private submarine (which you have to provide yourself). He’s says $750 million is a “good negotiating point.” (LOL.) There’s room for 50 passengers and 100 crew–huh?

Artist’s rendering, apparently.

When we were in the Azores, walking back to our ship from the pub (you can guess what that means), “the boys,” i.e. the permanent crew, and I were pointing and laughing at the “yachties” who had anchored in nearby slips. One of them stole someone’s expensive sneakers sitting on deck and hurled them over the seawall.

It was almost graceful.

Into the blue

All right, you guys, this is it. On Saturday I leave to cross the Atlantic Ocean not 1, not 2, but THREE TIMES in two months. Needless to say, internet access is nonexistent at sea, but the Oosterschelde blog, via satellite, will help fill the gap left by my absence. The crew takes turns writing posts. If you’re at all interested in this pirate insanity, I urge you to follow along!

Now, deep breath. Here’s the sked. As a quirk of the flight I booked, I fly to Madrid first.

Followed by a couple days couchsurfing and tangoing in sunny Buenos Aires.

Not me (yet).

Before I jet again to the End of the World, where I’ll just have enough time to visit Tierra del Fuego. No, Dad, it’s not just a punchline.

There’s a bar here, too.

Before meeting my shipmates (I’ve already “met” one, hi Lotte!) and setting sail on the Oosterschelde.

The seas won’t always be this calm.

From there, it’s all water for a long, long time–up through the tradewinds, the horse latitudes, then the tropics, then the whole thing over again in reverse. This takes roughly 60 days.

See?

On the itinerary, I’m hoping, is a tiny little rock in the Atlantic called Ascension Island. I guess it’s controlled by the British, but I’m pretty sure they’ve forgotten it exists by now, along with its sister St. Helena, the “cursed rock” where Napoleon was marooned and eventually died. This is the kind of place you can tell people you’ve visited, and they go, “huh?” (I like that kind of thing).

No, this is not a joke. There’s really land out there.

Until we reach Horta, Faial, Azores, a port that transatlantic sailors have used for centuries, leaving murals on the sea wall. Dolphins and whales, too!

Every one of these represents a different ship!

Conveniently, I can’t catch a flight back to the states until April 18, which gives me enough time to island hop through to Pico.

and the largest island (another flight), Sao Miguel.

Before catching my ridiculously convoluted flight back to Boston, then Minneapolis via Seattle (no that’s not a typo).

Hell, yes, I’m scared. I’ve traveled a lot, but no matter what, jetting off alone (and for me, it’s almost always alone) in the great unknown never gets easier. But I won’t stop doing it.

I’m crazy like that. I’d pretty much have to be.

Buy this book (no, not mine)!

Even at sea, there’s no escape from cops behaving badly, I guess.

Packed with photos from the Oosterschelde’s 18-month voyage from the Netherlands to New Zealand and back again, this book in cooperation with Elastik.Concepts will be published in June 2014. (And yes, I promise to try to photobomb as much as possible, so maybe I’ll be in it!)

Order now and pay € 17,50 (excluding shipping costs) instead of € 22,50. Send an e-mail with subject ‘pre-order book’ to info@oosterschelde.nl with your name, address and telephone number.

Sending out an S.O.S.

Are you following the Oosterschelde blog? I am, and you should, if only to figure out how a crew of 28 diverse people manage to amuse themselves for over a month with no land in sight! As they move closer and closer to Cape Horn, the latest of which has proved the classic Message in a Bottle:

The text of the message.

Stay tuned to see who finds it (granted, it may take a while)!

Those are some seriously high seas for that little bottle to take on.

Through the tradewinds

The Horse Latitudes? The Roaring Forties? Ushu…usha…what? In case you were wondering exactly just where I’ll be sailing come February, here’s a helpful map from my friends at the Oosterschelde to get you started:

My route (Oosterschelde) is in purple. My leg is from Ushuaia, Argentina at the tip of South America, up through the South Atlantic and over the Equator, and debarking in Horta, Azores in the middle of the North Atlantic. (How am I getting home from there? Don’t ask).

My ports of call will span the major weather systems and the most storied trade routes, traveled from everyone from pirates and the King’s Navy. Over the next few months, my posts will take more in-depth look at some of the stops! Hop aboard!