Ship Ahoy Festival

Festival Location: Aarhus, Denmark

Festival Type(s): Maritime Festivals , Historical Festivals , Re-enactment Festivals | Re-enactment Events

Russian Around Aarhus

by © Stayton Bonner 2008

Bellowing out his command loudly in Russian from right behind my ear, the captain sharply snaps me from my momentary lull in the baking Baltic sun. Immediately, a young blonde girl in jeans and a frayed tee-shirt on the deck in front of me lights up the cigarette that has been dangling absent mindedly from her lips. She takes a drag, gives the ship across the water a quick glance, and then touches the end of her lit cig to the short fuse stubbily protruding from the three pounder cannon sitting at her feet. The explosion cracks sharply over the waves like a wooden chair leg snapping, while thick grey smoke and bits of shredded newspaper envelop the STS Shtandart's deck. As the sulphuric smog clears, Captain Vladimir Martous looks over at the ship he has just fired upon a couple hundred yards away and laughs while they shake their fists back at him. "That would have made a great photo," he says smiling and looking around. "Has anyone seen my camera?"

Instead of trading gunfire and taking prisoners, the crew members of the Russian STS Shtandart and Australian HMB Endeavour had been more interested in trading stories and taking pictures during the 2003 "Ship Ahoy" festival in Aarhus, Denmark. Although coming from opposite sides of the globe, the two ships share common histories. Both vessels are working replicas: the HMB Endeavour, built in Fremantle, Australia, is a model of the ship Captain James Cook used to chart Australia in; while the STS Shtandart, built in St. Petersburg, is copied after Peter the Great's naval flagship. At sea, the two vessels educate aspiring sailors on traditional seaman methods, while in port they act as museums to the general public about 18th century life. Blanketed in sail and interlaced with miles of rope, our ships are exciting methods for educating people about 18th century sailing life.

Berthed next to each other for the tall ships event, our crews got a chance to learn a bit about each other during the week. While the Shtandart members came aboard the Endeavour one morning to furl sail when dangling seventy feet above deck, we in turn received lessons on Russian shipbuilding techniques. Working together on each other's ships, we quickly became friends.

On the last morning of the festival, their Russian and our mostly Australian crew members met on the dock to exchange gifts. While chocolate bars and tee-shirts traded between tar-stained hands, we laughed with each other about the week's experiences. The young Russian kid who had been nervous about climbing out on the mast yard stood joking with the guy from Tasmania who had turned a new shade of green from his first experience with unpronounceable Slavic libations, while the captains Chris Blake and Vladimir Martous made plans for meeting up again in future ports. Although we usually couldn't understand a word of each other, both our ship's crew members had learned we had more in common than not during the week. We were all strangers in a strange land, and there's something naturally bonding about being mutual outsiders, no matter your other differences.

From the Shtandart's deck, I watch the Russian lifeboat slam towards us through the Baltic waves like a red torpedo to take the last group of Endeavour crew back to our own ship. We'd exchanged crews for our departure sail out of the Aarhus harbour, giving our ships one last chance to learn about each other. It's been fun, but now it's time to say goodbye. I shake hands with captain Martous and tell him I hope to see him again soon.
"Why not sail with us to St. Petersburg?" he asks.
"Yeah, sure," I reply laughing. The captain then nods his head gravely and looks out over the bow.
"Good," he says after a moment. "You may have some problems with a visa, but we will worry about that later." He turns to me and smiles, "After all, if problems arise, we can drop you off in Helsinki."
Suddenly realizing that he is serious, a mixture of excitement and nervousness spreads over me.
What'd I do when I get to St. Petersburg?
What does he mean exactly about "problems arising"?
And where the hell is Helsinki?

But as I climb down the ship's side to head back to the Endeavour and think about the offer, I decide to go for it. Tall ships were originally built so people could explore and broaden their knowledge about the world, and the modern versions are still doing the same today. Although there aren't any new lands left to chart, modern day voyagers have the opportunity to broaden their own personal horizons by exploring new cultures. I just hope I packed my thermal underwear somewhere.

Stayton Bonner, a Texan, was backpacking through Europe when he started working on the Endeavour in exchange for coffee and a hammock space at night. Check out Stayton's site at http://www.staytonbonner.com or that of the Endeavour at http://www.barkendeavour.com.au

by Stayton Bonner