Captain's Log

Why the change from the Atlantic to the South Pacific?

Captain Daniel D. Moreland

At the Picton Castle office and aboard the ship here in wintery Lunenburg everyone is pretty excited about the change from sailing to Europe to sailing to the South Pacific. Europe would have been great, but it takes more than me to think so. Europe is great in my view but how can you not get crazy excited about a square-rigger voyage to the best islands in the Caribbean, the Spanish Main, and on through legendary isles of the South Pacific Ocean? Who doesn’t want to sail to Galapagos, Pitcairn Island and Tahiti? And how else can this be done as a real before-the-mast sailor but in Picton Castle?

But why the change from the Atlantic Voyage? Well, there are a couple other reasons but the biggest reason, simply and honestly, is that we were not getting the level of interest in the Atlantic Voyage to give us necessary confidence that we would have enough of a gang to make the trip work. I for one think that this European/African/Caribbean voyage is wonderful, and we will see about setting one up again in the future. But for now, off to the South Pacific it is. As most of us know there is all but no other way to visit these exquisite islands or make these trade-wind passages in a blue-water square-rigger but to sail in Picton Castle.

Our gang, of course, is all excited about getting back to Pitcairn Island! Surf the longboats into Bounty Bay! But they are also really excited to make long trade-wind ocean passages across the warm blue South Pacific Ocean and put into and visit so many islands that we didn’t have time to visit on our earlier world voyages. The tall brooding Marquesas, the low coral atolls and lagoons of the Tuamotus group – shipwrecks and all, Tahiti and so many of the languid Society Islands of French Polynesia, and including some new islands like Raivavae and the famous and ever so iconic Easter Island. We have never been there before. Not many ships sail there. And on the way out and back we will be able to give enough time to amazing and culturally rich Panama and couple other stops in Latin America including a chance to check out the Yucatan. For something new and different, on the way home to Lunenburg it will be a fine thing for our gang to take part in a few Tall Ships port celebrations in the Gulf Mexico. And all beginning and ending in Lunenburg, Nova Scotia, Canada.

So, we are off to the South Pacific! Carpe Diem!

Just in came the news that the lock at Canso/ Port Hawkesbury is currently out of service due to a power cut as a result of hurricane Dorian. I am happy to say that I feel blessed to be faced with minor issues like fallen branches, trees, damaged motorcars and inoperable locks caused by power cuts. Spare a thought for the Bahamas that endured a sustained and relentless assault from Dorian that lasted more than 48 hours, extremely destructive. Lives are lost. Towns in ruins. No trees standing.

Late evening update has power restored to the area with the lock fully operational. Well done Nova Scotia Power. We are back to Plan “A”.

Cleared the lock on Tuesday morning 0900. This was lock number 32 for the summer, and our final one. Warm, sunny and still. What a gorgeous morning. Our pilot (yes, we need one for this stretch) is having fun and has taken the wheel himself, taking the ship down past Port Hawkesbury and to the head of Chedabucto Bay.

We disembark the pilot late in the forenoon in continuing calm conditions.

Now is the time to forge ahead and cover some distance. Another low-pressure system forming over Maine is forecast to bring strong SW winds to the Nova Scotia coast later the next day. SW’lies mean lumpy seas and headwinds.

Picton Castle raised Cross Island on the morning of Wednesday, 11 September. Seas are getting up, the SW wind is up to Force 5. In another few hours, this will be inhospitable and uncomfortable. A couple of hours later we pass The Ovens, out of the chop. Set up for coming alongside, prepare the semi dory for launching, slow down. Past Battery Point the last sail comes in, the boat is launched, standing by to assist docking if required.

And there is Lunenburg! Its unique waterfront with the bold and cheerful colours of its warehouses and weatherboard homes in stark contrast to the grey skies and dull water. Picton Castle’s dock ahead on the port bow.  Hug the red laterals, then a wide left turn to bring the wind fine on the port bow, ready to back into the berth. Let the wind do the job, take your time. As the ship backs down, light kicks ahead bring her head to wind, then through. Headline ashore so as not to lose the bow. Springs. Sternline. In position, head to the SSE. Finished with engines and the wheel. Boat alongside, gangway out. Double up fore-and-aft. We are home after three months and a voyage of 4407 miles.

Imagine coming home from a successful summer voyage: that warm feeling of accomplishment, the looking back, the winding down and, inevitably, the parting of ways. Then, deservedly, the sitting down and stretching one’s legs in a comfy armchair. Right?

Well, think again. Bosun School is here.

We took our leave from Clayton in the early morning of Sunday, downbound the upper Seaway towards Montreal. Seven more locks, somewhat faint in our memories but demanding respect nevertheless. What magnificent pieces of public infrastructure, connecting and forming an enormous highway of shipborne commerce and trade. And enabling a thriving recreational boaters’ community to move freely between the Atlantic coast and the inland ocean of the Great Lakes.

After a 32-hour passage, we dropped anchor at Vickers anchorage (Longueuil) in Montreal, in driving rain. Both anchors down in anticipation of strong SW winds forecast to pass a couple of days later. And they did. We were sitting snug in strong winds and more rain, having undone all our canal prep the previous day.

From here on, our onward passage would depend on the development and path of the tropical hurricane Dorian that had been hovering just slightly to the east of Grand Bahama Island. It was forecast to slowly advance westward, then re-curve and make its way up the east coast of North America. Storm hunters? You must be kidding me! Best heavy weather precaution is avoidance, simple as that. And with the advanced weather forecasting technologies that we do make use of in Picton Castle, avoidance can be planned and executed well. Not all is done shipboard, however. Plans and strategies are communicated between the ship and our office in Lunenburg. Here, extra sets of mariner’s eyes examine the same situation and thus a safe passage plan is informed. Add to that an ongoing discussion of the weather situation between the Captains of a number of the sailing ships (BLUENOSE 2, PRIDE OF BALTIMORE 2 and Picton Castle, in this instance), and one can be reasonably assured that all the relevant information has seen the light of day.

While at anchor, Picton Castle conducted a number of drills and workshops. Heavy weather preparation (rigging of nets, grab lines and additional hatch covers); Donning of immersion suits; Abandon Ship drill; Heavy weather precautions, procedures and protocols (what to do, what not to do, how to move about the ship, operation of watertight doors &c); Man overboard prevention and response; and, lastly, stowing for sea, on deck and below, including double gaskets on the t’gallants and royals. Heavy weather is a condition. But it is also a mindset. Master the mindset and the physical act of timely heavy weather prep (including avoidance), then the crew is ready. And consequently, the ship is, too. Part of the training in Picton Castle.

Thursday morning sees us downbound the St Lawrence River, after spending a good hour to clear our fouled anchors, on the still strong currents. Past Quebec City, we drop off our pilot at Les Escoumins. Salt water again. And tides. We sneak into Baie-Comeau (Baie des Anglais) to anchor and await the passage of Dorian over Nova Scotia and the Gulf of St Lawrence. Late Saturday night, the winds shift NW, a sure sign that the eye of the hurricane has passed and is now well to the east. Winds ease at the same time, so we heave up and go, bound for the Strait of Canso (and its lock), passing Cape Gaspé 24 hours later. Daybreak Monday morning sees the royals and upper stays’ls make an appearance. Sea state and wind have dropped considerably since their peak around Cape Gaspé. Skies are blue, and even the sun is radiating warmth. Smiles all round. The previous two days had been FREEZING cold (water temperature a mere 5 degrees C) after being so accustomed to the summer heat of the Great Lakes. All is looking bright. The forecast is steady with light winds along the Nova Scotia coast for our run from Cape Canso towards Lunenburg.

It is never over until it is over.

The ship’s cat. The same cat that had been with Picton Castle since she was a kitten, having come aboard in, well, the port of Suva in Fiji, just prior to the ship’s Westward Bound voyage in 2013. The cat that had been around the globe in Picton Castle one and a half times. The cat that had been to all manner of ports, islands, countries and continents. The street-smart cat that knew by instinct when to come back to the ship, when to finish shore leave and when to report back aboard ready for departure. And the same cat that had touched and delighted so many people during our summer campaign. Fiji failed to appear at morning muster on departure day from Erie. Nowhere to be found.

With a funny feeling in my stomach I took Picton Castle off the dock in Erie, one crew member short. What had happened?

Across the Lake, and back into the Welland Canal at Port Colborne. We made the downbound transit in nine hours, then went to anchor in the lee of the east pier at Port Weller in Lake Ontario. The following morning, our lake pilot boarded at 0700 and we traversed Lake Ontario, arriving in Clayton, NY, at a quarter to five the following morning. Two full days were spent in this picturesque town. Shore leave, ship’s work and training, plus chatting to the locals and tourists who came down to the town dock to see the ship. PRIDE OF BALTIMORE 2 joined us for half a day before proceeding on her passage.

So what of Fiji? Some frantic phone calls, search missions, and even a TV news bulletin later, Fiji remained elusive. A state-wide news flash. The internet went nuts. “Where is Fiji?” was the call taken up far and wide.

Fiji resurfaced in Erie, unharmed, after almost two days had passed since her disappearance. The Captain of Lettie G. Howard and the Erie festival co-chair, Sydnee Groenedaal, offered to chauffeur Fiji up to Clayton and, like a true rock star (minus the dark glasses) Fiji rejoined her ship in the wee hours of the morning on Friday, two-and-a-bit days after her disappearance. With scarce as much as a flick of the tail by way of acknowledging her Captain, Fiji turns around and, well, takes a stroll ashore in the still dark morning hours. Half an hour later, having appropriately surveyed Clayton’s waterfront, she comes back and puts in a nap. Phew. Back to normal, and Picton Castle with a complete ship’s crew. Thank you, Goldie and Sydnee.

Highlights of the summer were plentiful. The Great Lakes are a stunning stretch of water, very stunning in fact, and are lined by beautiful nature and coastal communities large and small. The area is rich in cultural heritage and history, stretching back millennia. What is not to like?

Roaring down Lake Huron under full sail. A serene anchorage at St James’s Harbour. Massive clouds and mighty thunderstorms. 1000 ft lakers doing their thing. These are lasting memories.

All of the host communities and festival organisers did a wonderful job welcoming us and presenting the ships to the public. Countless volunteers were only too ready to do anything to make our stay go as smoothly and as enjoyable as possible. Local knowledge and support make all the difference for a ship pulling into an unknown port for a few busy days while engaged in a lengthy campaign spanning three months.

And as the Tall Ships Erie festival drew to a close with a wonderful crew only twilight sail aboard the beautiful schooner Lettie G. Howard, the end of the Tall Ships Challenge Great Lakes 2019 series made itself known. Homeward bound.

We were back on Lake Erie, having come through Lakes Michigan, Huron and St Clair. Lake Ontario just beyond the horizon. And with it, you guessed it, the same Welland Canal. 8 more locks, this time downbound.

The Erie Maritime Museum and the Flagship NIAGARA League extended their welcome and allowed us to stay for a few extra days, giving us the opportunity to undertake the canal prep in a more leisurely fashion. Not that we needed the extra time. We had simply become good at it. Nevertheless, good to have a couple of days up one’s sleeve. More training (we had embarked yet another new lot of trainees, the seventh for the summer) and drills. More maintenance. More daily life aboard a working, living, breathing square-rigger of the old school. I never tire of it.

And then Fiji happened.

Next stop: Buffalo, NY. Well, not quite.

There was the slight issue of the Welland Canal. Exactly. As we did not intend to climb Niagara Falls, Picton Castle had to do it all over again: Transform from a sailing ship into a triced up vessel capable of negotiating another eight locks to lift us up another 95 metres or so to the level of Lake Erie. Well, we had done it before, and we were getting better at it. The festival in Toronto ended at 6pm on a Monday, and at 0330 the following morning, we had a pilot boarding. We got underway just after 4am, across Lake Ontario towards Port Weller. A short delay waiting for downbound traffic, and Picton Castle entered the first lock of the Welland Canal at 1230. The transit upbound took us 11 hours. Emerging from the Welland Canal at Port Colborne at 2300, we came to anchor in the open roadstead in Lake Erie just after midnight.  BLUENOSE 2 made the transit later on the same day and came to join us. A beautiful sight, and a memorable occasion having this majestic schooner grace our anchorage.

A day at anchor saw more training and light day work, followed by another night at anchor.

Next morning, heave up and a short passage towards the muster point for a parade of sail into Buffalo. The parade of sail commenced at 1500, taking us past crowds of spectators ashore and a fleet of small craft in the approaches to the port, all there to welcome us to Buffalo. By 1800, we were alongside. Yes, you guessed it: the same procedure as before. Customs and Immigration, plus a US Coast Guard safety inspection scheduled for the following morning.

Buffalo put it on for us (and we for them!) over the July 4 long weekend. Having well and truly mastered our festival routine left us time to interact with the visitors more. Marvellous. And surprising what questions the public throws at you. The sailing ships that had been an integral part of everyone’s lives up until the early 20^th century, still just within living memory, were now, only three generations later, a mystery to most.

Buffalo, as Toronto before (and most of the ports to follow), offered a mix of activities for visitors and some especially for the ships’ crews. Good fun. Self paced and self organised exploration of the host city was always an option, too. Niagara Falls was a popular destination for Picton Castle’s liberty watch.

Buffalo saw 3000 or so visitors across our decks daily, a number that remained our average all through the summer. That’s a lot of people. At 9,000 visitors per festival, multiplied by 9 festival ports gives us some 81,000 visitors across the deck, not counting those just walking up alongside for a little chat.

Buffalo was followed by Cleveland, OH. Another parade of sail. More Customs, Immigration and USCG inspections. You see a pattern emerging. This is not to suggest that all ports were blending into one blurry mess, kind of the same. Far from it. Every city or town, US American or Canadian, put their own individual spin and flavour on the festivals they organised. The summer never descended into monotonous boredom but maintained a fast paced and fascinating diversity of country culture. Good for us. And speaks volumes about the spirit and commitment of the host communities: Toronto, Ontario. Buffalo, NY. Cleveland, OH. Bay City, MI. Green Bay, WI. Kenosha, WI. Sarnia, Ontario. Kingsville, Ontario. Erie, PA.

Plus the ports we were lucky enough to visit besides the festival ports: Sturgeon Bay, WI. St James’s Harbour (Beaver Is), MI. Algonac, MI. and Clayton, NY. Great hosts all.

Do I have a favourite? You bet I do. And so has everyone else. And I bet it’s not the same.

We sailed from Lunenburg on June 15, a beautiful sunny day, in company of the magnificent schooners Bluenose II and Pride of Baltimore II in a spectacular departure under sail. And while all that was going on, we had our magnetic compass swung, a necessary thing to do after completing a 30,000 mile voyage spanning 360 degrees of longitude and a majority of time spent in the Southern Hemisphere.

During the run up the Nova Scotia coast, we continued preparations for the upcoming passage of the St Lawrence Seaway with its strong currents and numerous locks: wooden fenders were lashed to the ship’s side, boats stowed on the galley, boat davits and brace bumpkins were housed, the course yards cockbilled and all braced up sharp-sharp. The port bower was triced for’d out of the way. Nothing protruded over the ship’s side. We were ready, albeit looking not quite the ship we all knew. Things a sailor gets to do in Picton Castle!

Picton Castle went through the Canso lock without a hitch. It was but a glimpse of what was still in store for us this summer.

At Les Escoumins, halfway up the St Lawrence River, a Seaway pilot came aboard, and Picton Castle had a pilot aboard from then onwards at all time she was on the move, until her return to Les Escoumins almost 3 months later.  Those are the requirements for a foreign-flagged ship her size, no matter how often she may have done the passage without a pilot required in the past.

The St Lawrence River threw strong currents at us. Winter and Spring had been wet ones. Water levels in the Great Lakes were at record high levels, and the resulting outflow down the Seaway and river was enormous. A quick stop at anchor in Montreal for a Seaway inspection (which we passed with flying colours), and off we went to conquer the locks. Up and up, seven locks in all to bring us to a level close to Lake Ontario. The final lift at Iroquois, at under 6 feet, was only small compared to those prior, being somewhere in the region of 40 to 50 feet. Strong crosscurrents in the approaches to the locks made lock entries a bit like attempting to thread a needle with a gale across the deck, the thread flapping in the breeze.

Having docked at Clayton, NY, we could look back at an eventful 38-hour passage from Montreal. Quick, grab an ice cream, for we must off to Toronto, undoing all the lock preparations as we go.

It was a beautiful, warm and sunny day that saw us coming into Toronto under full sail. Picton Castle ghosted to her dock, taking in the final scrap of canvas as she slid alongside under a canopy of trees. Gangways out, clearing Customs and Immigration, a safety inspection from the Canadian regulator, and off we went, head first into our first tall ship festival for the summer: the Redpath Waterfront Festival held over the Canada Day weekend.

Perfect weather and a steady stream of visitors to the ship made it easy for us to get our festival routine fine-tuned and settled. By the end of the weekend, we had it well and truly sorted.

Next stop: Buffalo, NY. Well, not quite.

Imagine coming home from a long, successful voyage: that warm feeling of accomplishment, the looking back, the winding down and, inevitably, the parting of ways. Then, deservedly, the sitting down and stretching one’s legs in a comfy armchair. Right?

Well, think again. Sailing home from World Voyage 7 in Picton Castlewas all of the above, sure. Only slightly compressed. Condensed. Like a zipped-up file. For the ship, port stops are a transitional period. There is hardly a clear-cut line between the end of one voyage and the beginning of the next. True, crew pays off and a fresh lot signs on. But the ship remains in commission.

Planning for the summer campaign had, in fact, started many months earlier during WV7. Preparations were well advanced by the time Picton Castle made Lunenburg on June 1. The usual end-of-voyage routine of administrative tasks, cleaning and re-stowing went parallel with necessary modifications for the summer and our regime of planned maintenance. Seeing the ship and her crew idle? No chance.

The engineering department was burning the midnight oil. An additional 4 septic tanks were installed in the engineer’s hold, increasing our holding capacity from 530 gallons to a whopping 1600 gallons. The plumbing going with this had to be installed, re-routing every single sink, shower, floor drain or head to the tanks. Prep work for this had commenced at Cape Town, but the bulk of the work could only be undertaken once the tanks were installed. And the tanks were waiting for us in Lunenburg.

Long hours indeed, for engineers and deck crew alike. But the perks of being in port must not be forgotten: Getting some rostered time off; seeing families and friends; stretching one’s legs ashore; meals at a restaurant; long showers; no night watches; and the modern conveniences of shops and internet.

We had a fortnight for the turnaround. A fortnight to transform our barque from a long-passage maker into what is possibly the centrepiece of the Tall Ships Challenge Great Lakes 2019. Was the ship ready when she sailed from Lunenburg for the vast interior of North America on June 15? As ready as any ship could be.

New hands had signed on for the first leg towards Toronto. Training and ship familiarisation was conducted under the watchful eyes of the Mate. Drills in emergency preparedness and response. Sail drills. Ship’s routine. All the things we do to prepare for going to sea. Sailing PICTON CASTLE is so much more than knots, splices, and terminology.

Picton Castle went to anchor in Lunenburg harbour on the evening prior to departure. Good thing to do. No more distractions, and a pure focus on the ship and the passage ahead in the settled quiet of our anchorage.

As I sit at my desk in Picton Castle’s shore office overlooking the street and harbour in Lunenburg, Nova Scotia, Canada, I can hear the wind swinging the sign on the side of the building and whistling through the nearby trees.  It’s been raining on and off throughout the day and the sun hasn’t made an appearance at all.  Picton Castle is tied snugly to the wharf and even though the wind is coming pretty hard, near gale force, from the southeast, the only direction from which Lunenburg Harbour isn’t well protected, the mooring lines and winter anchor set out in the harbour are holding fast and Picton Castle is riding the swells just fine. 

One of the questions that is often raised by people considering a voyage in Picton Castle is about bad weather.  What do we do about it?  How do we handle it? 

Picton Castle herself is a very strong ship, having been designed and built to fish year-round in the North Sea and North Atlantic Ocean, and refitted with a powerful sailing rig with ocean voyaging in mind.  Watertight bulkheads (which means the area below decks is divided into small sections, each one watertight on its own) and excellent stability are part of what make her extremely seaworthy. And we have tools and procedures that we use in different weather conditions.  However, the number one goal is to avoid bad weather in the first place.  Captain Moreland often says that the single biggest technological advancement in the past hundred years that has benefited ships is in weather prediction.  Forecasting has come a long way and we check forecasts frequently then make plans accordingly.  Major bad weather systems can be avoided to a large extent.  But you cannot avoid every gale, every time. 

There are a few different options for avoiding bad weather and we’ve used them all over the years.  Sometimes we extend a stay in port so we can see how something that looks suspicious in the forecast will play out, or wait until it has passed before we get underway.  Sometimes we get underway from a port earlier than we planned so we can get out ahead of a system moving through and allow it to pass behind us.  If we’re in port, what we do will depend on the port – sometimes we set an extra anchor and ride it out, sometimes we move to a more secure berth, sometimes we get underway and get out of the way.  If we’re at sea, we often change course to avoid the system and stay out of its path, or sometimes slow down or heave-to (which means stopping the ship at sea) to allow it to pass ahead or make a clear indication of direction. 

Even though we avoid the worst of the weather, not every day is sunny and beautiful.  There are squalls, wind shifts, and days of overcast, rain, and big waves and swells.  How do we deal with these?  Again, preparation is key.  And not only do we prepare the ship physically, we prepare the crew with extensive training.  We practice sail handling so we can do it quickly, even in the dark.  We practice getting around the ship when the decks are moving.  We practice using safety equipment like handlines and jacklines that run the length of the decks, harnesses with tethers that can be attached to the handlines and jacklines, extra netting, and watertight doors and hatches.  The crew hone their skills in situational awareness so they can anticipate things before they happen. 

We simply can’t guarantee that every day aboard will be comfortable.  In fact, we guarantee that there will be some days that aren’t.  Sleeping, eating meals, even drinking coffee can all be more difficult with the ship moving beneath you.  You might at times feel soggy and tired.  But oddly, it’s often those moments that test us and cause us to rise to the occasion that bring the crew together and make the most vivid memories of the voyage.

A valuable and essential tool in advancing the learning of seamanship, and an integral part of Lunenburg’s Bosun School, is small boat work. Understanding and competently working small boats is essential in becoming a proper seaman and, eventually, a Bosun. And a Captain for that matter. All the decisions made by the small boat skipper are those that get made by the captain of a larger vessel with often more immediate consequences. So small boats it is.

Our fleet of small boats comprises a variety of craft from a dugout canoe to dories, skiffs, open sloops and a longboat for pulling and sailing, to a modern fibreglass sloop and a beautiful 26-foot wooden schooner.

Now “small boat work” does not solely denote jumping in one of these, messing around and becoming a proficient boat handler. Bosun School starts with inspecting and preparing the boats for launching, fixing whatever needs to be fixed, surface prep and painting, rigging them up as required, then launching them.

Learn to determine and assemble boat gear as necessary and then be instructed to use the boats while, well, using them. This is hands-on. Learn to row, scull or pull; sail in small open boats or larger sloops and schooners; practice in outboard powered skiffs… all the while hearing and understanding sound principles of small boat work: areas of operation, weather considerations, limitations and capabilities of boats, gear and crew. Instruction, followed by practice and more instruction followed by more practice. Several hours a day of we can.

While the boats are in the water, tend to them as they demand, and care for the gear. They may need their moorings overhauled, so check them frequently. The boats may need bailing due to rain or maybe even just old fashioned leaking. Pump them out. If heavy weather is on the way – its October isn’t it? – deal with them. And at the end of the season, recover them all, label and stow the gear, clean and winterise the boats in sheds or on hard stands in the yard at the Dory Shop. The whole seasonal cycle condensed into eight or so weeks. If you were awake during all of this, you are well underway to becoming a cox’n.

Last week, we rigged and launched BLUE BOAT, a modern 24-foot fibreglass sloop. She needed little work, just a couple of fibreglass patches and a lick of paint. To step her mast, sheer legs were stepped on the ground either side of the mast step, next to the cradle, and crossed. The mast, laying fore and aft along the deck of the sloop, with all its rigging attached, was hoisted horizontally by a tackle from the sheer legs, then canted vertical and lowered into position and secured by shrouds and stays.

With the sheer legs knocked down, a system of runner and tackle was rigged between two fixed points and the boat cradle. With all hands clapping onto the tackle, we dragged the cradle over wooden bearers towards the water over the soft slope of the Dory Shop’s black beach. Once in the water, the cradle dug into the soft shale, so with a system of levers and a tackle upon the tackle, the cradle slid slowly into deeper water, floating off the sloop. It may be how they set up Stonehenge but we did it with our own hands, not a travel lift in sight.

Yesterday, we took BLUE BOAT sailing for the first time. Her rig was fine-tuned and secured, sail bent and the boat kitted out. We sailed her off the mooring and alongside a floating dock, changed the small jib for the racing jib, loaded a couple more hands and sailed into Lunenburg Bay in 10 to 15 knots of Easterly breeze in glorious afternoon sunshine. After a couple of boards between the Lunenburg docks and Battery Point, we spotted MR. BONES’s unmistakable green and orange sails. MR BONES had just been finished that afternoon and launched for its first sail from the beach at the Dory Shop. Our silver-bali skiff was also out as a chase boat. What a way to spend the afternoon!