Life on Board Draken Harald Hårfagre

Every ship has a rhythm, or several, that shape the way we live on board. The basic beat of any ship, Draken included, is simple: eat, sleep, work, repeat. It drives the crew, marks the passing of time. Times of day are different for parts of the crew, as we’re divided into three watches to work round the clock, but the beat is the same. It weaves into other patterns of activity to shape the rhythm of life on board.

draken figure head 2As a member of port watch, I’m on duty from noon until 4pm, when we hand over to midship watch, and again from midnight until 4am, after relieving starboard watch. We take turns on the helm, pushing and pulling the tiller to keep the ship on course, and on the lookout. We’ll trim the sail; change the tack; add or take off the bonnet on the foot of the sail. And there’s always little jobs to be done: stitching, whipping, splicing, knotting.

There’s always a lot of activity as we leave port. Mooring lines are coiled, fenders deflated and stowed, stores and personal belongings arranged and rearranged. Preparations for setting sail.  Then the arduous, cooperative effort of raising the yard, kaiing the aft end under the shrouds, dropping the sail, bracing the yard, setting the tack, tightening the sheet. All reversed as we stow the sail. The longwave rhythm marking the ends of a voyage.

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Rocking and rolling in the North Atlantic swell. Photo: Draken Harald Hårfagre, drakenexpeditionamerica.com

The most important pattern on the ship comes out of the galley, the tiny space at the end of the sleeping tent. Here the cook and his assistant prepare three hot meals a day for the 33 members of the crew, plus fika (coffee and cake) in the morning and afternoon. And there’s always a night watch box filled with snacks. We eat well, although the calories are needed to keep warm on north Atlantic nights.

For some, myself included, there’s a different rhythm that marks time on board; the swells and rollers that rock the ship and the sea sickness they bring. I find the first waves of nausea start to roll in 3 or 4 hours after leaving port. The only way of escaping the feeling is to lie flat, preferably face down, with my eyes tightly closed. (But that’s never really an option; it usually coincides with the beginning of the noon to 4pm watch).

Seasickness seems to have different stages. Once the feeling takes root, it’s a battle to keep awake. My eyes are so heavy, I sleep where I am: curled on deck against a knee; propped against the windlass; standing upright in the galley one night, waiting for a kettle to boil. I can’t track the passing of time. Did I sleep for the last hour? Or was I absent for a minute or two?

Suddenly, the sleepiness passes. There’s only one place I have to be now; downwind. Pulling scarves and storm hoods away from my face, I gulp the fresh air, but its not enough. Afterwards, it feels like all the warmth is drained from my body. I shiver, despite layers of wool clothes, until its time to go to bed.

Iceberg1My favourite thing is to be lookout, standing up in the bow watching out over the ocean. I scribble myself notes sometimes: numbers of fulmars, shearwaters and skuas; shapes of clouds bubbling up on the horizon; colour changes in the water. Other times, sea spray and squalls sting your eyes, making it hard to see, or it’s so cold the only way for the watch to keep warm is to “shake it off” with Taylor Swift for fifteen minutes.

The times I love most are the dark, still nights, when I stand by myself at the bow. I forget about the rest of the crew behind me for a few moments and look out at the sea and stars; I am alone on a wide, wild ocean.

And the thoughts running through my head? If a large enough wave breaks into the ship, that’s it. If the lookout doesn’t spot a growler, or a submerged shipping container, we’re done for. That this is for real. And that is a thrilling way to live, on the very edge of danger. Any rational person dwelling on the “what ifs” for too long would pack their kit bag and get off in the next port. So you get on, and pack those thoughts down into the bilges of your mind. You calmly accept this state of affairs.

PelayoRather, we occupy ourselves with the little details. Mundane, inconsequential things: where we sleep in the tent (and which is the best place); the type of chocolate available at fika; planning best times to visit the heads, especially if we’re wearing survival suits. Habits are founded, some even becoming rituals of great significance. It would be impossible to think about starting a night watch without a freshly-frothed vegan-friendly latte, or to end at 4am it without sharing a tin or two of “plane crash” with the rest of Mackerel Club.

What’s hard to explain to people hoping for tales of derring-do on the high seas, is that this ship is our home (albeit with less of the usual home comforts) and the rest of the crew is as close as our family (with all the usual quirks and oddities of every other family). And that means that life at sea is just as grand and electrifying, as silly and strange, and as normal and boring, as life everywhere else.

Draken Harald Hårfagre: A Beginner’s Guide to the World’s Largest Viking Ship

I was a crew member on Draken Harald Hårfagre as the ship made a historic crossing of the North Atlantic ocean, from Norway to Canada, in the late spring and early summer of this year. This is the first in a series of several posts with my thoughts and observations from the voyage.

Draken leaving the Greenland coast for the Labrador Sea. Photo: Draken Harald Hårfagre, drakenexpeditionamerica.com

I’m going to start off by thinking about the end of that journey (or more specifically, the end of my part of the ship’s journey), and how the crew has gone through something of a transition over the last month. From being explorers in the more remote reaches of the North Atlantic, seeing only each other for days on end, we turned into storytellers and presenters, meeting hundreds, if not thousands, of people a day at events in various ports in Canada and the US.

If you do visit the ship, (or already have) I hope you’ll forgive us. It’s not an easy task to distill the experiences we had during the expedition into short soundbites that fit into a whistle-stop tour of the ship. Nor the years of construction work, project management and planning that led up to the voyage. At best all we can do is give you some of the most interesting facts and figures, and just the briefest hint of what life on board an open ship was like.

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Draken moored by Hvalsey Kirk, which dates from the Norse settlement of Greenland.

So, to start my expedition journal, here are a few things that you really need to know about Draken Harald Hårfagre, the world’s largest viking ship built in modern times

The Name.

I always try to introduce Draken by her full name, Draken Harald Hårfagre, with my best attempt at the Norwegian pronounciation. It’s that Scandinavian letter å, sounding a bit like –owh-, that doesn’t exist in English, that makes it a bit of a mouthful for many of the crew. Not Arild though, this is how it should sound.

The translation is much easier; Draken means dragon, referring to the dragon’s head mounted on the bow, showing the world that this ship that would have belonged to a powerful and important chieftain or king. Having looked at the figurehead mainly from the back for months, it’s crossed my mind that our dragon might look a little giraffe-like (it’s the ears, I think). I don’t think I’m the only one in the crew that’s had that thought.

And the second part of the name, Harald Hårfagre (who is referred to as Harald fair-hair or fine-hair in English, depending on the translation), is to honour of the first king of a united Norway, who hailed from the area around Haugesund – Draken’s home port.

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The dragon figurehead breathing smoke into the clouds.

Not a Replica.

Describing Draken is tricky. The ship has often been called a “replica” in the media, but this has a very precise meaning in maritime archaeology, referring to vessels built from scratch as an exact copy of another known vessel. Within that definition there are several different categories: true replicas, hull replicas, operational replicas; none of which really describe our ship. Calling it a “reconstruction” can also be a bit problematic; this term is used to describe historic ships that have been repaired or rebuilt with new material to return to a known earlier condition.

Draken was built in Haugesund between 2010 and 2012 from entirely new materials, drawing inspiration from a number of sources, to create a representation of what an ocean-going ship from around 1000CE may have looked like. Accounts from the Norse sagas, archaeological findings, and the living tradition of wooden boat building in Norway informed the design and construction process. Many of the lines reference the Gokstad ship, one of the best-preserved examples of Viking-age shipbuilding, on display in the Viking Ship Museum in Oslo. A best-fit way of describing Draken is as an “operational hypothesis”, but that loses a bit of the romance and sense of adventure around her.

Did you row?

Probably the most asked question when we meet people. And I’m sorry to spoil the perception, but the answer is very little. And then only for showing off whilst lots of people are watching. It’s really hard work to shift a ship weighing around 90 tonnes, y’know?

Draken was built to be rowed with 25 pairs of oars, with two oarsmen on each oar. That’s 100 people! We just haven’t got the space for them all while we sail, or for the 50 oars they would need. We’re only able to carry between 12 and 14 oars with all the changes that were needed for sailing, and have one oarsman on each, so it would be a much harder, slower job than it was before.  And it can be dangerous in anything more than flat water: “catching a crab” could pin you to the deck and cause an injury. 

Sailing is far faster and a more efficient way of travelling long distances, and well, I’m sure if you asked most of the crew, we’d say it was much more fun too. We’ve got a great big, beautiful, silk sail, and it’s a shame not to use it as much as we can.

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Catching the sunset in the silk sail.

The Crew.

A full crew on Draken is 33 people, give or take, although we were a smaller crew heading up the St. Lawrence, and will probably be again at the end of the summer. During the ocean crossing, 13 of us were women, and the proportions have evened out even more during the last few weeks in the Great Lakes. If you’ve been on board, you can probably imagine the amount of space each person has to themselves.

Not everyone in the crew is Norwegian, or even Scandinavian. I’m from Scotland, and there has been at least 14 different nationalities making up the crew at various points in the journey. Countries as different as Russia and the US, Spain and Sweden, and even Switzerland have been represented. Add to that a wide range of ages, from the youngest at 18 to somewhere in the mid-60s. We’re a bit of a mixed bunch really.

How do you sleep/ eat/ wash/ do other things on board?

The simple answer is that you just do it. The things that you need to do, you find a way to get on and do them. Or you decide that they can’t be done on the ship, and wait until you get ashore. There’s a lot of challenges when it comes to the business of living on an open ship: being so tired, but finding it difficult to sleep with the noise, stuffiness and movement; feeling terribly seasick but knowing that you need to eat and drink; looking after personal hygiene with no washing facilities; finding an escape from the rest of your watch for five minutes. There’s no quick way I can sum up all my thoughts about all that, so I’ll try to cover it in other posts.

What was the voyage like?

The hardest question of all. How do you sum up two months of an expedition into areas little travelled by others; challenging weather conditions and nerve-racking sea states; close encounters with icebergs, into a short conversation with someone you’ve just met? How do you explain to people that haven’t been part of a sailing crew about living in each other’s pockets; how day-to-day things happens in expedition conditions; silly in-jokes; about blowing off steam when you get into port? That now you’re back in civilisation, with a comfortable bed, good coffee, and a reliable internet connection, you really miss it all?

I usually say the words “cold” and “wet”, which at least are true. And now, as I’m able to make more sense of everything that happened, I can also add “one of the most amazing things I’ve ever done”.

Leaving the Faroe Islands at dusk. Photo: Draken Harald Hårfagre, drakenexpeditionamerica.com

The Vagabond Guide to the Edinburgh Festivals

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Photo Credit: -LucaM- Photography via creative commons

It’s early August, and in only a few days time you won’t be able to walk down Edinburgh’s Royal Mile for people breathing fire, pretending to be robots or juggling battle axes. Attempt to escape the crowds into a park, and you might stumble into an open air opera or a leading author reading from their latest work.

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Photo Credit: Yopizza via creative commons

August in Edinburgh is a perfect storm of Festivals, as events celebrating music, dance, literature, arts, and performance of all kinds spring up across the city. As well as the International Festival, Art Festival and Book Festival, you’ve got the world-famous Festival Fringe and the Military Tattoo. And at the end of the month Edinburgh Mela rounds everything off. It’s the best time to be there (having lived in Edinburgh for a couple of years, there’s a sense of excitement that spreads across the city like when you’re putting up the Christmas decorations at home), but it can also be the WORST time to visit. These are my tips for how to enjoy Edinburgh during the festivals (and save a bit of cash at the same time).

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Photo Credit: Canadian Pacific via creative commons
Book the big shows in advance.

If there’s something that you’re desperate to see, that would really spoil your holiday if you didn’t, don’t risk missing out. Big names and unique opportunities can sell out super quickly. However, you have the slim chance of picking up a last-minute ticket on the door, so don’t rule out your chances completely.

Don’t over commit to culture.

With more than 250 venues spread across the city and over 250,000 visitors (plus the odd local or two) making their way between them all, the festival can be EXHAUSTING. Be sure to leave plenty of time in your plans to get from A to B, check out some street performances, and perhaps to just sit back and enjoy the buzz for a bit.

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Photo Credit: Slainte74 via creative commons
Head to the Half-Price Hut.

The Virgin Money Half-Price Hut on the Mound Precinct (near the National Gallery) has a selection of tickets for events on-the-day or the following morning, with an appealing 50% discount on the usual price.

Festival freebies.

A real highlight (especially for a canny Scot like myself) was Fringe Sunday on the Meadows, a free showcase of Fringe performances. Unfortunately it hasn’t happened for few years due to a lack of sponsors, but there are still hundreds of free events to be found in the programme, including the Free Festival and many of the BBC events.

Work it, baby.

Possibly a bit late for this year’s events, but one way to experience the Edinburgh Festivals on the cheap is to get a job. There are plenty of adverts for unpaid street promotion work in return for tickets, and even the odd paid opportunity to be found on edinburghfestivaljobs.com.

Get some breathing space.

Don’t forget that there’s a whole glorious city to explore away from the Festival events. Take a break to climb Calton Hill, chill out among the flowers in the Botanic Gardens, stroll round the Shore in Leith, or visit the oldest pub in Scotland, the Sheep Heid Inn by Duddingston Loch.

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Photo Credit: raphael.chekroun via creative commons

These Boots are Made for Walking

RoutePlan12015 will see me take on what will certainly my biggest challenge yet, as I aim to complete the The Great Outdoors (TGO) Challenge in mid-May. The TGO Challenge is a self-supported trek through the Highlands of Scotland, crossing from the west coast to the east coast within 15 days. It will be a test of stamina and endurance, not to mention my ability to pack light and the qualities of “suck it up” and “get on with it”.

Unlike many other long-distance treks, the TGO Challenge doesn’t follow a way-marked trail on its route from west to east. Participants start from any one of 13 sign-out points in towns and villages on the west coast, and finish anywhere along the east coast of Aberdeenshire or Angus, between the towns of Fraserburgh in the north and Arbroath in the south. The route between those two points is entirely down the the participant, and can be as demanding* and long as you choose to make it.

The 2015 event will be the 36th TGO Challenge, with around 300 participants taking part. Many not for the first time either; I’ve found a couple of names on the list that will be attempting the challenge for the 23rd or even the 26th time! Participants are travelling from all over the world to take part, including Scandinavia, Germany, the Netherlands, the USA, and even New Zealand. We’ll be in good company.

Gourdon Harbour in a winter storm.  If I stand at this point long enough the tide will come in, and I won't have to end my trip scrambling over seaweed covered rocks to reach the water.
Gourdon gutty harbour in a winter storm. Stand here long enough and the tide comes in, so there’s no need to end the trip scrambling over seaweed covered rocks to reach the water.

Since receiving confirmation of my place in the Challenge in November, I’ve been poring over maps and guidebooks to work out the route I want to take. The choice of an end point was an easy one as my parents live on the Aberdeenshire coast, in a little fishing village called Gourdon, right in the middle of the finishing area. Not only does it have a good pub, the Harbour Bar, with a chippy, Hornblower’s, just next door, I’ll also have good access to a bed, hot shower, comfy sofa, and WiFi; exactly what I’ll need after two weeks of trekking and camping in the wilds of the Scotland. (If I’m really lucky, someone might also do my laundry, but I better not push it at this stage of the plan).

To balance out my familiarity with the end of the route, I thought I’d start in a place I’ve never been to before. There’s a few options on the list, mainly the more remote and rural, but as we’ve got to travel up from the south of England to start the challenge we need somewhere fairly easy to get to using public transport. We’ll take the overnight sleeper train to Glasgow to start our journey north, then take the route to Fort William.

MuddyBoots1From there, I’ve opted for a TGO Challenge start in the fishing port of Mallaig, at the far end of the scenic West Highland Line. It’s a place I’ve visited several times before, but one thing I’ve never yet managed to do is take the small ferry to the village of Inverie, on the remote Knoydart peninsula. Although part of the mainland of the UK, the village of Inverie is not connected to the national road network, and getting to and from the nearest towns involves either a ferry trip to Mallaig, or a 25km (16 mile) hike through the “rough bounds” to Kinloch Hourn.  It’s also home to the Old Forge, the most remote pub on the British mainland.

Now I just need to join the dots between the two points**. It’ll only be approximately 290km (180miles) from one to the other.

What am I doing?

 

*Bear in mind, even without side-tracks and summits along the way, participants undertake a demanding hike for several days on end in remote backcountry, and contend with the notoriously fickle Scottish weather.  And most likely, the ferocious Scottish midge. 

** Plus some training hikes to break in my new boots.  And practicing my navigation skills.  Oh, and sorting out all the kit I’ll take.  Then throwing half of that out my rucksack when I find its too heavy to lift.  And testing some dehydrated hiking rations.  I’m sure there’s something else, but I just can’t remember right now…

5 Books to Celebrate Burns Night

AmReading1I’m thinking about all things Scottish this week, after a Hogmanay promise to host a real Burns supper for friends on the 25th. Although the food forms the centrepiece of celebrations, a Burns Night isn’t complete without performances of some of the poet’s best-loved works, classic poems and songs. So, inspired by these great works of literature, this month I’m giving you a selection of some of my favourite works of modern Scottish fiction to influence your visit to Scotland. Sorry, not a single time-travelling kilted warrior included.

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My Goals for 2015

Kaikoura Dawn2I really love this time of year. Those few days between Christmas and New Year are always packed with activities, obligations and chores, then the celebrations themselves fill your time. But now, a few days into the new year, it really does feel like a fresh start.

It’s exciting and motivating, and naturally it feels like time to set goals for the year ahead and think about the things I want to achieve, while I’m galvanised to action. I do like the idea of New Year’s resolutions, but never manage to pin down my hopes and intentions into one fully-formed idea in the past, let alone strive to keep to a plan or smash a target by a certain time. And don’t New Year’s resolutions tend to end in failure anyway?

But, I think it’s essential to keep developing as a person, to learn new skills and improve or master others, to try new experiences and fulfil ambitions, in short to become a more rounded, insightful and appreciative person. So, I’m going to go with the crowd and set myself some goals for the year ahead, keeping them bite-sized and thus hopefully achievable.

Here’s what I’ll be working at in 2015…

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2014: A Vagabond Year in Review

2014ReviewTitleIt’s that time of year again: time to look back at what the last 12 months have brought, and start to think about the year ahead too. My 2014 travels have made for an interesting year, with loads of exciting opportunities, unusual adventures, and new destinations across Europe and the UK to explore. Add to that mix a few return trips to favourite places, the odd unexpected detour, and plenty of time the BEST COUNTRY in the WORLD!*

My first trip of the year was a short Hogmanay holiday in the Scottish Highlands, based near Aviemore. After Christmas on the Aberdeenshire coast with my family, my boyfriend (the Bear) and I headed for the hills in the hope of snow. Unfortunately, a mild spell meant that only the tops of the Cairngorms got a dusting of the white stuff, then hurricane-force winds closed the ski centre and funicular railway, forcing us off the hills.

Rothiemurchus Forest near Aviemore is remnant of the ancient Caledonian wildwood.
Rothiemurchus Forest near Aviemore is remnant of the ancient Caledonian wildwood.

I worked full-time during the first half of the year, so my travels were limited to long weekends and day-trips, including a visit to the Bear’s family in Yorkshire, a few day-trips to London and a couple of nights camping in Northumberland.

I squeezed in a two-week road trip and camping holiday to the far north of Scotland at the end of April, introducing my boyfriend to some of my favourite places in the world. My childhood holidays would usually start with a visit to my Grandparents in Thurso, on the north coast, followed by a few weeks in our caravan touring remote beaches and tiny villages.

On April 13th I ran the Virgin Money London Marathon, a 26mile long street party, and have an awesome medal to prove it.  I didn’t see Mo Farah.

Eilean Donan Castle, on the Road to the Isles
Eilean Donan Castle, on the Road to the Isles

At the end of June I said goodbye to my colleagues and boarded a flight to Norway. I headed to Haugesund, to meet up with the crew of the Viking longship Draken Harald Hårfagre for an eventful summer of sailing. Three days into our crossing of the North Sea, our mast broke, and we made straight for the safety of Lerwick, Shetland, to assess the condition of the ship. We were able to take advantage of the unexpected shore leave to explore a little of Shetland, whilst we waited to find out if our expedition could continue.

 

With a green light from the owner, we were thrilled to get back out to sea again, even though we were motoring rather than sailing. Our skipper took us down the Moray Firth and through the Caledonian Canal, to avoid the challenging conditions around Cape Wrath, on our route to the west coast.

Calling into the whisky-lover’s paradise of Islay, we bumped in to a fabulous band called The Blueswater, and invited them to stage what must surely be the greatest ever blues gig held on a Viking ship. If that wasn’t enough, the following evening on Rathlin Island we were invited to a ceilidh with traditional Irish music from members of the famous Black family.

Our next destination was Peel, on the Isle of Man, before we headed to Liverpool and the Wirral, where the ship underwent repairs.

With a fortnight’s shore leave, I took advantage of the opportunity to explore. Estonian shipmate Kessu and I took the overnight ferry to Belfast, and road-tripped our way along the Antrim coast, before heading south to Dublin to meet up with Marie, Draken’s French cook, to tour the city.

From our Merseyside base, I visited the sights of Liverpool and was joined by the Bear for a weekend. And after a few days of work, a few shipmates and I escaped for a couple of days hiking in Snowdonia, Wales, to celebrate crewmember Jemima’s birthday.

Back on Draken we returned to the Isle of Man, this time under sail. Heading north, we called into Oban, the Isle of Rum (where we visited quirky Kinloch Castle), and Stornoway on the Isle of Lewis, before rounding Cape Wrath to reach Stromness in Orkney. We raced north to beat stormy weather, ziping past Fair Isle to make port in Lerwick, where we spent a week waiting on the weather for our return crossing to Norway.

After signing-off from the ship, I set out to explore Oslo, but somehow got sidetracked into a road-trip adventure that ended in Marie and I gatecrashing a Viking-themed wedding on a mountain top at midnight. I never managed to see Kon Tiki.

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The UNESCO biosphere reserve of Beinn Eighe in the north-west highlands of Scotland.

There was only one place in the world to be in September, as Scotland faced a referendum on independence from the UK. The atmosphere was buzzing with excitement and trepidation, and people were determined to celebrate regardless of the outcome. Wha’s like us?

In October the Bear and I headed to Greece, spending several days exploring Rhodes, before taking the ferry to Santorini. Well-known as a luxury destination, I wanted to see if it was possible to have an awesome experience on a shoestring budget. Mission accomplished!

I spent several days in Athens, taking in the TBEX (Travel Bloggers Exchange) conference, my first experience of the travel blogging community. I met loads of awesome bloggers, made some good friends, and got the opportunity to take a day trip to Delphi.

After all that travel, it was time to return to the UK to work to pay off some of my adventures and build a bit of a fund for next year. It wasn’t all work and no play however, and I managed to squeeze in a couple of day trips to London and Oxford before Christmas.

 

It’s been a great year. What was your most memorable moment in 2014?

 

*That’s Scotland, by the way, if you didn’t get the subtle subtext through the post.

And now for the weather…

There’s no such thing as bad weather, just the wrong clothing. A quote that can be variously attributed to Sir Ranulph Finnes, Alfred Wainwright, Roald Amundsen*, and my Granny Mac. That the worst the elements can throw at you can be repelled with a good waterproof layer on the outside and some warm, cosy underlayers. And it’s true, mostly, except when the weather actually is bad.

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Weather forecast for 0900 Monday 11th August 2014. From bbc.co.uk

As we left Peel on the Isle of Man, skies were clear, the sun shining and the wind was just right to take us north. Meanwhile, out in the Atlantic Ocean a weather front was moving eastward towards the British Isles, strengthened what was left of Hurricane Bertha after the storm battered into the islands of the Caribbean. A wave of strong wind and heavy rain were forecast to sweep over the UK and Ireland, with several weather warnings issued across the country. Continue reading

The Adventure Continues…

What a difference a week can make. Two weeks ago, Draken Harald Hårfargre was tied up to the quayside in Lerwick, sail and sheets piled on the foredeck, the yard lashed along the starboard rail, after we lost our mast crossing the North Sea. The crew were camped out in tents on the edge of the high school playing field, just opposite the Coastguard station. And after initial relief at our safe arrival subsided, it was replaced with an empty uncertainty, as we waited to find out what would happen to the expedition. Continue reading

Nomads and Vikings

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The winners of the World Nomads Travel Scholarship competition were announced the other day; with three writers selected to take part in a writers workshop in Berlin, before each setting out on a 10-day roadtrip through part of Europe in August. Winning would have been an amazing opportunity, but I’m not too disappointed as I was one of 30 writers shortlisted from many that entered, and I’m rather proud of that achievement.

I’m looking forward to reading the other entries on the shortlist, especially the winners; Rachel Ecklund, Amanda Richardson and Jarryd Salem and keeping up with the winners journals over their trips. Hopefully I’ll glean some writing tips from them as they travel.

And the reason I’m not too disappointed about missing out on a European roadtrip is that I’ve made some plans for the summer too. I’m going to rejoin the crew of Draken Harald Hårfarge at the end of June, for a sailing voyage that will take us from Norway, across the North Sea to Shetland and Orkney, through the Hebrides and down the west coast of Scotland, to Northern Ireland, the Isle of Man and finally into Liverpool, before returning.  So here’s to blue seas, fair winds and beautiful sunsets.

Any seasickness remedies you can recommend are much appreciated!