The Captain's Logs are below.

Read the Crew's Views from John, KC, and Caroline as they reflect on their experiences in Asia.

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Although Pride II underwent a rigorous maintenance program in the course of last winter, that work focused primarily on long-term projects that can only be accomplished while the vessel is in a decommissioned state.

Routine maintenance is a different animal altogether. It is an ongoing, daily process. Routine maintenance keeps us in touch with the health of our floating home. It allows the crew to hone their skills by practicing their chosen craft. It also provides both a mental and physical break from the public relations aspect of our work. A change is as good as a rest, so they say. Most importantly, it is through this continuous process of investigation that we are able to discover trends and developments before they become big, expensive problems. Anyone who has ever owned a boat knows that the marine environment can be a demanding foe that often appears to adopt a permanently adversarial posture, devoted to undoing our every effort to attain perfection. This week we are going after the varnish work.

Unlike the first Pride, Pride II sports what seems to be acres of varnish. All of her hatches, combings, caprail, and other assorted woodwork and trim is varnished. Lovely it is to look at, but its maintenance absorbs a tremendous amount of labor. Recently, while lying abed at night, one could hear it crying and whimpering, a little louder each night, for attention. In the past several days, we have been able to lay coats on the rail and several of the forward hatches. This leaves about half the brightwork still to go.

Another ongoing project has been the tarring of the rig. In days of old, sailors were known as "tars" - Jack Tar being a sort of Everyman among sailors. The sobriquet comes from the fact that tarring the rig was among the most constant and ordinary maintenance tasks that a sailor was called upon to perform. At nearly every opportunity, members of our crew can be seen aloft or perched in the headrig, proudly attired in their tar-spattered raiment, wielding the tools of their trade with skill and confidence: a tar-soaked rag and a bottle of tar mixture. Over the past winter, the wire rigging was stripped and re-served (encased) with all new marlin. The new marlin has proved a thirsty sort of creature that sucks up each fresh application of tar like a sponge. Where it goes, nobody knows.

Pride II went to Norfolk to participate in the venerable Norfolk Harborfest. Whereas last week Wilmington celebrated its first foray into the business of waterfront revitalization, the Norfolk event was one of the first of its kind in the decades since waterfront renewal became a "do or die" proposition. In attendance were several vessels whose company we shared at Wilmington. There was the Half Moon from New York, a replica of Henry Hudson's vessel of exploration. There was the Bounty from Fall River, which was built by MGM studios for the 1962 version of "Mutiny on the Bounty" with Marlon Brando.

The Kalmar Nyckel came down from Wilmington. She is a remarkable vessel for a number of reasons, not least of which is the exquisite carvings that adorn her transom.

Last but never least was the host vessel, the Norfolk Rebel, commanded by the heart and soul of the fleet, Capt. Lane Briggs. Throughout our visit, Capt. Lane dispensed hospitality in true Norfolk Rebel style.

All good things must come to an end. On Monday morning, Pride II took her leave of Norfolk in the company of the other ships. A fair breeze took us down the Elizabeth River and out into Chesapeake Bay, where it faltered and failed. Pride II continued toward the open Atlantic under power while the Kalmar Nyckel and the Bounty sailed in company up the Bay, their masts and rigging slowly fading into the afternoon haze. How must it appear to an observer to the north, to see these two sailing ships emerging from the haze, and another century? When will these vessels and crews all be together again? Who knows, but until that time we bid them fair winds and a following sea.

Upon reaching the open ocean, a fair sailing breeze greeted us. Destination: New York City. The transit to New York represented our first foray into the open Atlantic this year. Pride II's seakeeping qualities are well proved, and the forecast was fair. Nevertheless, Mother Ocean is never to be trifled with, even on the most sublime summer day. Our five weeks operating on Chesapeake Bay had its own challenges, but spending nights at anchor or in harbor, and sailing upon protected waters does not prepare one for the forces of the ocean. To that end, a special point was made of stowing the ship, checking and double checking everything. The golden rule of stowage is that, if it can move, it will move; so tie the sucker down, whatever it is. The middle of the night in a heavy sea with poor visibility and a tired crew is no time for a bunch of tools to be swarming around the engine room like angry hornets, or the contents of the refrigerator to come crashing out onto the sole, or to be chased around the deck by a seven hundred pound cannon with an attitude problem. The idea is to eliminate the foreseeable so that one can focus on the unavoidable.

As it turned out, we had a very pleasant sail north. We caught a breeze at the Capes and carried it up past Cape May at the mouth of Delaware Bay, and along the coast of New Jersey right up to Ambrose Light at the entrance to New York harbor. How peculiar to glide past Atlantic City blazing mutely a few miles off, while the only sounds we heard were the creak of the hull, the working of the rig, and soft laughter shared over dinner.

Pride II arrived off Ambrose Light around noontime, June 9^th, two nights after leaving Norfolk. The fishing was slow, but Dan Weaver, our engineer and resident fisherman, hauled in a handsome bluefish which augmented our dinner on the second night. Seeing as it was a light air passage, we had the opportunity to set some of the kites. The gaff tops'l went up and down more than once.

Owing to the crew's enthusiasm to see the gants'l set, they set about it, led by the Chief Mate Stephanie Reynolds. First time of the season is always a royal pain and this was no exception. Finally, two hours later, with the enthusiasm long since dissipated in the mid-morning sun; with half the crew nursing stiff necks from looking up and asking "what could they possibly be doing up there all this time?"; with Christine Cleary and Stephanie Reynolds, the two crew who volunteered to go aloft, thoroughly disgusted; with our guest crew thoroughly unimpressed except by the sheer tenacity of those involved, the gants'l was set. Victory at Sea! In Stephanie's words, "Hey, next time it'll take ten minutes."

We anchored in Sandy Hook Bay on Wednesday afternoon. The water had gone glassy and the air was sultry. No sooner did the anchor fetch up when a line of white caps abruptly appeared from the east, marching straight across the bay toward the ship. Moments later a solid wall of 25 knot winds, with higher gusts, struck the ship. One hundred and eighty-five tons of Baltimore Clipper lurched back on her anchor chain, but the anchor held. The crew busily furled sail to reduce windage in the rig, while small pleasure boats scrambled past to make harbor as the chop quickly built. The breeze kept up through the night and subsided by morning. So, that can happen.

Pride Of Baltimore II entered New York harbor on the morning of June 10^th. She steamed up past the Verazzano Narrows, past the Statue of Liberty and Ellis Island, past Gravesend, Governor's Island, the Battery, and numerous other landmarks that contribute to the maritime legend of New York. We spent our first night on the Jersey side. Since then, the ship has laid at North Cove, just above the Battery on Manhattan. A monument to United States Merchant Mariners lies a short distance away. Ironically, no cargo at all moves in or out of Manhattan anymore, and the situation is much the same in Brooklyn. Most of it has moved to the Jersey side of the Hudson River.

The ship has been quite busy with events, but our Open Houses have yielded relatively little turn-out. The visitors that have found us have been mostly passersby. Small fish, enormous pond. As Deckhand Dave Briddle commented this morning, "There's a lot of town out there, whole lot of town."

Tomorrow we's gonna quit dis joint an' head fuh Bawston.

Watch Below,
Captain Parrott