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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Also during this period, Pride II participated in the Fells Point Fun Festival for the first time in some years. In the course of two afternoons in Fells Point, over 4,000 people came aboard Pride of Baltimore II. Our homestand in Baltimore culminated with the rendezvous of some 47 schooners to attend the 10^th annual Great Chesapeake Bay Schooner Race.

Great Chesapeake Bay Schooner Race

The Great Chesapeake Bay Schooner Race began in 1990 upon the instigation of the illustrious Capt. Lane Briggs. Years earlier, he and his tugatine, the Norfolk Rebel, challenged the first Pride to a race from Baltimore to Norfolk. The wager? The loser buys the beer. The original Pride was lost at sea before any such shenanigans came to pass, but the seed was planted and the notion eventually gave rise to the race, which has grown in popularity with every year. The chief hosts and mountain movers are the Fells Point Yacht Club at the Baltimore end, and the Town Point Yacht Club at the Norfolk end. Each year, a small army of dedicated volunteers coordinates the race and the festivities. It is a massive organizational undertaking and it has always been a smashing success.
The schooners themselves come from far and wide. Many come some distance to attend, and even local vessels make an effort to build their schedules around the race.

Most of the pre-race activity was in Fells Point. There was a Parade of Sail the night before the race, followed by a shindig for all the crews. On Thursday, October 14, the Skippers Meeting was held at the Whistling Oyster, and then it was back to the ship. The weather developed as forecast. A fresh nor'westerly built to nearly thirty knots by early afternoon. With such a breeze, there was no need to motor out to the course below the Bay Bridge. The fleet literally blew out of Baltimore and down to the starting line off Annapolis.

The usual confusion reigned as the start approached. Many vessels were maintaining conservative sail plans in such close quarters and with such a breeze. When the start gun went off at 1340, Pride II was still making sail. It must have been one hell of a sight to see forty-odd schooners pouring over the starting line with a belly full of wind and broad reaching down the Bay. Highlander Sea, the schooner we defeated in Gloucester, was leading the pack. Many of the other schooners from the Gloucester race were in attendance as well.

While all the participants were having a splendid sail, the fleet soon spread out according to their sailing qualities. This pretty well left Highlander Sea and ourselves out ahead of the rest. The crew set feverishly to getting more canvas up. With the recent turnover of Pride II's crew, more than half had never seen but a few of our sails set. Things may not have happened as quickly as with a more seasoned crew, but they happened nonetheless and with very few hitches of any kind.

This is certainly a tribute to the crew themselves, but more especially to the Second Mate, Tim Frush, who had been with us since spring and was sailing Pride II for his second passage. Tim was everywhere at once — tending this, directing that, getting the next thing ready. It was a marvel to watch. Up went the flying jib, up went the gaff topsail. With the wind well abaft the beam, the apparent wind was reduced, thus allowing us to carry more sail. Also, within an hour of the start, the wind was much diminished and was soon blowing less than 20 knots true. Up went the gantsail, up went the starboard stuns'l.
As the stuns'l halyard was hauling home, a block in the rig carried away and the whole thing dropped about 8 feet. The sail continued to draw in this half-set position while the Bosun, Jesse Kenworthy, scrambled aloft and effected a slick repair to carry us for the time being. For the crew, the first three hours of the race was a frenzy of hauling and coiling while the more intimate mysteries of Pride II's rig revealed themselves one by one. But then it was on to the next thing, and no time to contemplate the last. And so they rushed, hither and yon, and the profile of Pride II's sail area gradually expanded to its full extent. Usually it is weeks, if not months, before the opportunity comes for the crew to experiment with Pride II's kites, and here they were doing the whole thing on their first sail!

In most respects, the breeze for this race could not have been finer. It was all out of the north and we were all going to the south. With things thus, jibing was the primary sail maneuver for all the vessels as they sailed down the Bay, gradually working from one shore to the other. No sooner was everything set, but it was time to jibe. The crew that had never set a stuns'l before now had to strike one. They also had to learn how to jibe the ship, which is simple enough, once you've done it twenty times or so. Despite this lack of familiarity, the crew accomplished the maneuver as smoothly as an un-oiled machine. Race or no race, we were having a grand sail.

By the time 6 PM rolled around, all hands had been at it for ten hours straight. We broke into watches at that point, but even so it afforded little rest. With every evolution, and there were many, more hands had to be called to assist. But we noticed as the evening came on, each time we crossed tacks with Highlander Sea, we were a little closer to her. By sundown, the wind had dropped to around twelve knots and moved into the north. In respect to Highlander Sea, these conditions favored Pride II's light-air kites, over the more boisterous breeze of the afternoon. With the final blood-red flame-out in the western sky, it was apparent that Pride II had moved ahead of her rival. Darkness then fell, and the game of `hide and seek' began.

Pride II ghosted along through the dark. The occasional crab pot buoy appeared, red or green, in the lume of the side lights. The tiny orb would rush past the hull and disappear like a homerun into the depths of the October night. Eventually the breeze went northeast, at which point the port tack was the favored tack for getting down the Bay. Pride II moved along easily with her port stuns'l set and drawing. But the wind shift, and a slight freshening of the breeze, put Highlander back up even with us. As the wind clocked further into the east, the broad reach became a beam reach, and Highlander was able to move on past us slowly. But Pride II hung with her and the gap opened very slowly. Eventually though, the breeze came well forward of the beam, causing the apparent wind to freshen to 18 knots. The stuns'l began to crack and flog, leaving no choice but to bring it in. As soon as this happened, Highlander rapidly increased her lead. Though we re-set the stuns'l when the breeze backed some, the damage had been done and we were unable to get close to Highlander again.

We crossed the finish line just before first light and trundled on into Norfolk thinking only of sleep.

Once the vessel was secure and squared away, most of the crew wanted only to rack out for awhile. But seeing as it was ten in the morning, this was easier said than done. A constant flow of visitors kept things busy at the rail, but eventually most of the crew crawled off for a catnap.

In due course, all the vessels came in, and the largest regular gathering of schooner sailors in North America commenced to blow off steam. The oyster roast and pig pickin' on Saturday is the highlight of the post-race celebrations. This fandango goes from roughly 1300 to roughly whenever. Here gather sailors who have known each other for years, and plied the briny deep far and wide, together and separately, along with the newest crop of aspiring mariners looking for romance and their next berth. When all is said and done, there is nothing like it anywhere. And again, foremost among the many who make it possible, is Capt. Lane Briggs.

The festivities wound down in time for everyone to brace for Hurricane Irene, which was sidling up the coast while the fleet made merry. Irene was not predicted to be a particularly powerful hurricane, but then again, there are no weak hurricanes. Sunday brought a deluge as the barometer plummeted to 998 millibars. Early Monday morning, the wind came in at a steady 40 knots, gusting to 50. Our doubled up docklines stretched and strained, but fortunately, Pride II and the other vessels were secure and protected. Pride II rode it out without incident, and Irene quickly moved offshore. By nightfall, the winds had subsided and the skies were clear. The stars sparkled with an icy clarity that reminds one that winter follows close on the heels of fall.

On Tuesday morning we cast off, along with many of the other vessels. We passed through Hampton Roads, past the serious gray hulls of the Atlantic Fleet, past submarines and carriers, into Chesapeake Bay. We passed by the waters where the French fleet under Comte de Grasse drove off the British fleet, making Washington's victory at Yorktown complete, and the United States a fact. We passed the spot where the Monitor and the Merrimac (actually the CSS Virginia) clobbered each other ineffectively like knights in armor wielding broomsticks, and changed naval warfare forever. We passed the James river, where Capt. John Smith and company, decided to plant their flag in a swamp, and thus establish the first permanent English settlement in North America. We cleave the waters where the Baltimore clippers of 1812 left their wakes, and countless craft of other eras. We are heading north. We will not be down this way again this year. We have many stops yet to make, but it is clear to all that the wheel of the year has turned another notch, and this sailing season for Pride of Baltimore II is drawing to a close.

Watch Below,
Capt. Dan Parrott