After a three weeks ocean crossing it is always nice to sail into port. Especially when this port is Horta, on the island of Fayal, of the Azores archipel. This port is one of the few ports in the world, which is still totally orientated towards sailing vessels. And even nicer, more and more, sailing cargo vessels are visiting this port again. The week before we where here, it was the famous cargo schooner Avontuur, for a short visit. Then we came in, and a few days later it is the schooner Gallant, who recently changed owners and was converted for sail cargo purposes. I still have to meet her Captain and owners, but am very excited to have more fellow cargo sailors in port.
Radio interview with captain Jorne Langelaan (start halfway): Radio Azores
To return to the port of Horta itself, this place breaths the old traditions of the squarerigged era, and traditional sealore of whaling and fishing. It is the only port I know of, still with a small tugboat, offered free of charge, to assist sailing vessels with their manouvring in. There is the famous Peter Sport bar, where all sailors who crossed the ocean and ended up on Fayal, have raised the glass to celebrate their arrival. Above this bar, there is the room with the most amazing Scrimshaw artwork. The ancient art of carving and enscribing, with a sail needle, the bones and teeth of Whales. Then there is the people, an amazing friendly community awaits the ships coming in. Farmers, fishermen, shopkeepers, officials, agents and bystanders are all as welcoming and friendly as you dream off, when spotting the first sight of land. Especially Paula, and her friends, our longstanding and nicely (un)”official” agent, is helping the ship and crew, with sourcing cargo, stores, excursions, transport etcetera, in an amazing way.
And not to forget the practical reasons of stopping here. We land a fine cargo of rum here. Re-provision the ship with the best canned fish, wines and locally grown tea, fruit and vegetables. And we have a minor crew change, and have the staying crew stretch their legs, to make ready for the final run, back to Europe.
Capt. Jorne Langelaan
Sixty-year-old machines, bags full of cocoa beans and compostable wrappers filled with chocolate bars. Rodney and Enver have their own chocolate factory in Amsterdam-Noord, called Chocolatemakers. They make ‘real’ chocolate, all aspects in the production process are as sustainably as possible. Because, like Enver mentions: ‘If Mother Nature has created this wonderful product called cocoa, then we do our utmost to preserve it.’
That is why they ship their Trinitario cocoa from the Dominican Republic with the sailing ship the ‘Tres Hombres’. Since you only need man and wind power, in contrast to the polluting container ships that are normally used when transporting cocoa.
Every year tons of organic cocoa beans arrive in Amsterdam, destined for Chocolatemakers. The Tres Hombres is unloaded by dozens of volunteers, who bring the cocoa to the factory. By bakfiets, wheelbarrow or sometimes – by very tough men and women – with bare hands, completely emission-free.
In their small factory in Amsterdam, Chocolatemakers process the beans into the Tres Hombres bars, milk and dark chocolate. By adding sea salt or cacao nibs you can taste the voyage, the adventure. The bar is an ode to the ship, and to Mother Nature.
Rodney and Enver are independent chocolate makers, from ‘bean to bar’. This means that they do the entire process from bean to bar themselves, in contrast to other chocolate brands in the Netherlands. Chocolatemakers have brought this old craft back to the Netherlands. In the past there were many small chocolate factories in Amsterdam, where Van Houten once started. Nowadays, most chocolate comes from abroad.
Chocolatemakers use their chocolate bars to tell stories about the origin of the cocoa beans and the social purpose they are committing to. Rodney and Enver show that making chocolate can also be done differently! Take a piece of chocolate and let yourself be carried away by the sailing ship on its trip across the Atlantic.
Enver and Rodney
After a voyage of 3 weeks across the North Atlantic ocean, the entire crew is excited to make landfall again. In the galley we fantasize about: fresh fruit, butter, raw milk and yoghurt. Certain deckhands already arranged, to not have dinner on board tomorrow, because of their desire for a big steak in cafe Sport. On deck we dream about a hot shower, with a clean, soft and dry towel, or a full night of rest, without being waken up halfway, to steer the ship trough a dark night. And of course their is talk of the smell of trees and flowers, or an uninterrupted walk, over firm soil, for more than 25 meters.
The officers are busy calculating the estimated time of arrival, the local tides and currents. Or are walking the decks trimming sails, to get that extra half a knot out of the ship. I made contact with our agent in Horta, Paula, to enquire about the possible quay space and towing assistance. During our two o clock muster, I told something about the history of the Azores, about the coming week in port, and what to expect, with port watches, maintenance, loading, discharging, new crew arriving and possible excursions. Most importantly, we talked about the harbor maneuver, to enter Horta, and what is expected from everybody on which stations.
In the afternoon the Starboard side watch is employed with getting the anchor chains on deck, flaking the desired amount in front of our windlass, and connecting them to the anchors. Horta here we come, land ahoy, for tomorrow morning!
Capt. Jorne Langelaan
Es ist 1.30 Uhr in der Nacht – local time, das heißt Schiffszeit. Wir befinden uns 29°29′ N 54°14′ W und damit fast genau in der Mitte des Atlantik, zumindest auf halber Strecke zu unserem bereits zu Europa zählenden Ziel Horta auf den Azoren. Wir rauschen mit 7 Knoten bei ca. 3-4 Bft. auf Halbwindkurs durch die Nacht, über uns, wie fast jede Nacht, der gewaltige Sternenhimmel, um uns herum nichts als Wasser, das in der kraftvollen Bewegung lang auslaufender Wellen unser Schiff hebt und senkt – und uns mit ihm.
Ich sitze in der kleinen galley (Kombüse) auf dem Vordeck, mir gegenüber Susann (eine andere Trainee), die mit Segelgarn Ummantelungen für die Feuerlöscher an Bord näht. Michael (Trainee seit sechs Monaten) knetet den Teig für das allnächtlich frisch zuzubereitende Brot des nächsten Tages. Am großen Steuerrad achtern steht Lis (Deckhand), begleitet und unterhalten von Daniel (Deckhand). Anne-Flore, Erste Mat, studiert im Kartenraum Kurs und Windvorhersage und köpft anschließend eine Kokosnuss als Mitternachtssnack für uns.
Wir sechs sind die Backbordwache und haben heute von 0.00 bis 4.00 Nachtwache. Von 4.00 bis 8.00 sind dann die anderen sechs von der Steuerbordwache dran. Der Wachrhythmus folgt hier dem so genannten schwedischen System und besteht in einem Wechsel von 6-stündigen Tages- und 4-stündigen Nachtwachen. Es hat den Effekt, dass im regelmäßigen 48-Stunden Takt jede*r einmal mit jeder Wache dran ist. Allerdings führt das auch dazu, dass im schnellen Wechsel der Wach- und Schlafphasen die Tage irgendwie ineinander zu fließen scheinen.
Wenn mich eine der freundlichen Stimmen von Myriel oder Tibor von der Steuerbordwache liebevoll, aber nachhaltig aus dem Tiefschlaf holt, bin ich nie ganz sicher, ob es Tag oder Nacht ist bzw. welche Wache nun gerade für mich beginnt, geschweige denn, welchen Wochentag wir gerade haben. Jorne, unser Captain, nannte das zu Beginn „a kind of long meditation“. Und tatsächlich fühlt sich das schon nach wenigen Tagen so an.
Seit 11 Tagen sind wir unterwegs. Wenn der Wind in Stärke und Richtung so günstig bleibt wie im Moment, sind es mindestens noch 10 weitere Tage bis Horta; wenn nicht, können es aber auch noch 15 oder gar 18 werden… Dieses Nichtwissen, die Unplanbarkeit, gehören zu dieser Reise wie der Geschmack von Erdnussbutter auf frischem Sauerteigbrot, der Geruch von nassem Holz und Kakao (wir haben an die 200 Säcke a 70 kg Kakao-Bohnen geladen) oder das Gefühl von Sonne, Wind und salziger Kleidung auf der Haut. Es ist eine ganz eigene kleine Welt, in der wir hier leben, ständig herausgefordert von den Bewegungen des Schiffes, machtvoll umgeben von diesem ganz besonderen Blau des Atlantik und der atemberaubenden Weite des Himmels. Kein Fleckchen Land verstellt den Blick zum Horizont, tagelang war nicht einmal ein anderes Schiff zu sehen. Jede kleine Veränderung wird so zur großen Attraktion: ein fliegender Fisch, der an Deck springt, Sonnenauf- und Sonnenuntergang, der Geburtstag eines Crewmitglieds, eine Sternschnuppe, die langsam in majestätischem Bogen über den Himmel zieht, der nächtliche Wechsel des Mondes oder ein Wal, der in großer Entfernung spielend mit seiner Flunke auf’s Wasser schlägt… Und natürlich auch jedes Segelmanöver!
Für uns Trainees sind letztere besonders aufregend, weil wir auch nach 10 Tagen noch absolute „greenhorns“ sind und kaum übersehen können, was zum Beispiel bei einer Wende alles geschieht und zu tun ist. Das Schiff hat immerhin 13 Segel unterschiedlicher Größe, Form und Funktion. Und jedes davon hat drei bis sechs Leinen, mit denen es geführt, gesetzt, geborgen oder getrimmt wird. Das bedeutet, dass es zunächst einmal 60 bis 70 verschiedene Begriffe, allein für die Segel und die Leinen zu lernen gibt sowie ihre Platzierung an Deck, die du möglichst auch in stockfinsterer Nacht ohne Beleuchtung finden solltest. Dazu kommt, dass beispielsweise die Rahsegel ganz anders bedient werden als die Vorsegel und diese wieder anders als das gaffelgetakelte Großsegel usw. Kurz, es gibt enorm viel zu lernen. Und zu staunen! Über die Eleganz und Perfektion, mit der die Stammcrew diese Manöver fährt.
Mitten in der Nacht bei strömendem Regen, 5 Windstärken und entsprechender See mal eben das Royal (das höchste Rahsegel) bergen und dafür in den 22 Meter hohen, wild schwankenden Mast steigen? Kein Problem für Lis, die in Windeseile oben ist und das genießt! Oder – um es mit einem der Lieblingssprüche hier zu sagen: „Unmögliches erledigen wir sofort. Wunder dauern etwas länger.“ – Sie sind so eingespielt, so „in tune“ mit dem Schiff und sich selbst, dass es ihnen dabei sogar noch gelingt, uns herumtapsende Neulinge in jeder Aktion zu integrieren und mit Engelsgeduld anzulernen.
Und damit bin ich beim vielleicht wichtigsten oder erstaunlichsten Aspekt dieser Reise: die Crew. Damit meine ich jetzt erstmal uns alle, die wir hier in der Mitte des Atlantik auf diesem kleinen Schiff zusammengekommen sind. Wir sind 14 Leute, sieben Frauen, sieben Männer, aus acht verschiedenen Ländern mit sehr unterschiedlichen Hintergründen, Lebensgeschichten und Persönlichkeiten. Und man könnte denken, dass das Konfliktpotential recht groß ist – auf so engem Raum ohne Ausweichmöglichkeiten in einer außergewöhnlichen Lebenssituation mit Menschen, die sich kaum kennen und noch dazu manche Sprachbarrieren zu überwinden haben. Eigentlich ist das der klassische Nährboden für Missverständnisse, Konkurrenz, Koalitionen und sozialen Stress aller Art. Aber nichts davon geschieht hier. Im Gegenteil. Es herrscht durchgehend eine Atmosphäre von Offenheit, Freundlichkeit, Hilfsbereitschaft und Interesse am jeweils anderen.
Natürlich: Wir wissen, dass wir mit Leib und Leben aufeinander angewiesen sind, und wir kommen uns ähnlichen Gründen auf das Schiff. Uns verbindet die Faszination des Segelns, die Liebe zum Meer und die Vision eines natürlichen und um Nachhaltigkeit bemühten Lebens. Aber ich glaube, neben diesen Gemeinsamkeiten gibt es noch etwas anderes, und das ist vielleicht so etwas wie eine bestimmte Gruppenkultur, der wir Trainees hier schon begegneten, als wir auf das Schiff kamen. Dazu gehört zum Beispiel der Umgang mit Fehlern. Hier muss sich keiner schämen, etwas falsch zu machen oder fünfmal nach der gleichen Leine zu fragen. Jede Frage wird geduldig beantwortet, jede Aktion oder Aufgabe ausführlich erklärt, und wenn etwas schief geht, wird das mit einem beiläufigen „nicht so schlimm“ kommentiert, rasch in Ordnung gebracht und anschließend ausführlich besprochen und neu trainiert.
Es gibt auch keinen Tratsch hinter vorgehaltener Hand. Wenn jemand genervt ist oder sich gestört fühlt, wird das entweder direkt und sachlich angesprochen oder – wenn es alle betrifft – bei den täglichen Runden. Und es gibt viel Anerkennung. Jeder kleine Fortschritt, zum Beispiel beim Klettern, wird gefeiert, jeder richtige Handgriff mit einem „nice“ quittiert, jede eigene oder neue Idee erst einmal dankbar aufgenommen.
Die Atmosphäre, die so entsteht, ist schwer zu beschreiben. Lenno fand in einer der Runden ein neues Wort dafür. Wir seien nun, sagte er, seine „crewmily“ (crew + family).
Also, liebe crewmily! Ich danke euch allen, vor allem aber euch von der Stammcrew, schon jetzt – in der Mitte des Atlantik – für diese ganz besondere Reise, für die Endlosigkeit des Meeres und des Himmels, für das Rauschen an der Bordwand, das Gefühl rauen Tauwerks in den Händen… und für das Erlebnis Menschlichkeit!
Beate , trainee
After making use of the Westerlies, for a few days, with nice daily and hourly speeds. A falling glass of the barometer. And swells building to five meter heights. It was bound to happen, that the faster moving depression would overtake us. With this, the tail of the depression: a cold front, with its furious squalls, occasional rain, and thunder, would present itself.
I woke up just after midnight, and felt the movements of the ship in my bunk. Not the flexible movement of the ship working herself speedily up and down the swells. No, this was a different movement, a movement of the ship on one ear not going over the swells but working violently through them, hanging on a steady angle without the flexibility of righting herself. I decided to stretch my legs, and take into account how my crew on deck was faring. Passing the chartroom a quick look in the logbook revealed that: the main topmast staysails had been doused, and the fore course, which had been only set again, a few hours before, was clewed and bunted up in her gear. On deck, the second mate was on the wheel working laboriously to keep the ship on course. Topsail, topgallant, foretopmast staysail, innerjib, mainstaysail and reefed main where still set. It was clear that we where in the middle of a coldfront. We had a chat, about the weather, how the ship was doing, and how the steering was. He had seen lightning flashes before, and squalls later and following each other. I relieved him at the wheel for a bit, and decided to hold off in the squalls. Also I invited the two deckhands, each for a while on the wheel, while I was carefully watching their steering technique, here and there giving a small comment or order.
The second mate took the wheel again, after having had a bite in the galley. I took a stroll over the decks. Shining with my flashlight, checking all the different sails. Their sheets, tight as a violin string. Their bellies filled with gusts of up to 8 Beaufort. In the meantime trying to escape from the violent bashing of the spray coming over the bows, or the knee deep of green water collecting under or over the lee pinrails. I decided it was time to reduce some sail, instead of dousing the mainsail I choose the mainstaysail, for ease of handling and to keep a bit more balance in the ship, if we wanted to head up more. Back on the poopdeck, I took the wheel, and ordered the mainstaysail down. When steering too close to the wind, we where clipping more through than over the large swells, and at times I was reading 11.5 knots on the log. In the squalls the crests of the waves where breaking, and entire valleys of water in between them, turned into streaks of white foam. There was nothing else to do here, then, bearing off and keeping the ship before the wind reducing stress, by subtracting our speed from the windspeed as we went. This dance, of wind, waves and ship continued for a few hours, until the new and fresh watch came on deck, and a slight rising of the barometer became obvious. I retreated to lay down for a bit in the chartroom. After a while, when I realized the worst was over, I wished the watch on deck a good night and went down below.
Now, a few hours later, the sun is climbing, we shook out the reef, and all sails are set again. Bound for Horta, we are making use of any wind, which is given to us…
Capt. Jorne Langelaan
There is something funny about the question: “when do we leave port, when do we set sail?” which most new crewmembers ask. We, the deckhands, tell them: “Wednesday or Thursday”. Then Thursday awakens and we are not ready, or the cargo did not arrive. Which in the Caribbean countries is quite normal. Tranquilo, you know. So then the new crewmember asks:”when do we leave port, when do we set sail?”. “Tomorrow the cargo will arrive, tomorrow we will go”. Tomorrow awakens, cargo planned at 10 in the morning, 10 in the morning, no cargo. They ask: “Where is the cargo” we answer “tranquilo you know”. Now the evening, no cargo, but beer and rum. The new crewmember asks: “When will we leave?” The drunken sailor smiles and tells him how it is: “We leave when the last mooring rope is cast off from the quay”. Confused they look at me, nothing more to say.
Now we are at sea, the mighty Atlantic ocean, with the waves, stars, sun and the moon. The greenhorn, is amazed by it all. Not in their wildest dreams could they imagine, its power and beauty. We jokingly make a bet, which day we will arrive, it is just a gamble for the crew. Nobody can tell what the wind, waves, stars, sun and the moon have in store for us. A week goes by, two weeks go by, then the new crewmember asks the deckhand the question: “When will we be there?”. “Next Thursday or Friday” I answer. One or two days go by, a few hours of no wind and a flat ocean, time is ticking away. “When will we be there?”. “Friday I am sure, beers and portwine in the bar, I will pay” I tell them with a smile.
Now, Monday awakens, “when will we be there?”. I look at him and say with a smile on my face: “The wind does what the wind wants, nobody can predict the waves, stars, sun and the moon. We will be there when the first mooring line hits the bollard”…
Deckhand, Daniel Jim Eijnthoven,
P.S. of the Captain. I totally see where this story is based upon, and can agree with the message, within its context. On the other hand, I also would like to explain that we are constantly making estimations about what time the ship arrives. And really amongst our Fairtransport shipping department and my fellow Captains we became quite skilled in estimating our voyages. I reckon, the past 10 years in about 90% of the cases the sailing schedule has been not more then 10% off.
If you followed this blog, you have been reading about many aspects of life on board of our small squarerigged cargo ship. But I have not really introduced you to one aspect, which is the most important one, to keep the ship together and keep her moving in the right direction. Of course it is her crew, fourteen persons, of all different corners of society. So here I will introduce you to all of them, one by one, and try to lift the veil on what connects them individually with this way of life. But, it is only in all of them working together as a team, that is making our great sailing ship crew.
Anne Flore is our Chief officer, even before she joined Tres Hombres, in 2012 for the first time, she had had a fair share of experience crossing the ocean, and sailing the seas, on traditional wooden boats. Next to an experienced mariner she is a first class sailmaker.
Alan, leads our Starboard watch in the rank of Second officer. He has had a wide experience sailing Tres Hombres, under almost all of her former Masters.
Judith, is our Cook, to keep our crew going, the most important person on board. She joined the ship last year, and had not been a seacook before that. However you would not notice, because she has a wide experience in restaurant and of farm life. Which apparently shows to be a great background for a seacook.
Thibaut, joined Fairtransport for the refit of our other ship: Nordlys. He worked hard to get Nordlys ready for sea, and then instead of joining Nordlys, somehow found himself on board Tres Hombres. Bound for foreign lands across the ocean. An able Deckhand, who knows the ship from bilge to royal.
Elisabeth, came on board two years ago as a trainee before the mast. And although still proudly living in the focsle, she went up the ranks to sail as a Deckhand. She is as able to hand, reef and steer, as any Cape horn sailor. Currently she is teaching the new trainees, about astronomical navigation with the age old device of the sextant.
Daniel, another Deckhand, has sailed for many years on Tres Hombres, his stories about this, became already mythical amongst our crew. Apart from sailing he joined the refits of Tres Hombres and Nordlys from the entire beginning, and mastered the art of caulking and making planks for hull and deck.
Muriel, joined this voyage last year, in Martinique, but before that she had logged many miles on different voyages on board Tres Hombres. Apart from sailing, she worked on refits of both ships. And next to acquiring her Masters ticket for commercial sailing vessels in the coastal trade, went to the Enkhuizen bosun school.
Mikael, has been a silent mountain of strength, from the time he first appeared on board, during the refit last year and onwards. Since that time he has reformed his cowboy and hunting skills, into the skills of a natural sailorman.
Lenno, for the first time on board in Boca chica, he brought his experience of sailing for years on the schooners, klippers and tjalken, of the Dutch inshore waters. Always ready to make a joke or tell a ghost story at night time.
Beate, started sailing on traditional ships about 35 years ago, and might well be the person on board with the oldest experience of sailing these wooden ships. She is great at the helm, and always ready to exchange a few nice words.
Guido, although not a professional sailor, his profession of doctor is definitely a well respected and welcome specialization on board. He signed on, to cross the ocean in working sail, and is absorbing all the experiences and information of practical and theoretical knowledge, to the maximum.
Susan, did sign on for a summer voyage on Tres Hombres before. Now she has put her focus onto crossing the ocean from West to East, via the Azores, and all the way to the European continent.
Caroline, was there on one of the voyages, when Nordlys was just operational again. Joining from La Corunha, to cross the bay of Biscay. After this, her love for wooden sailing ships was clear. And now she is working hard to learn the ropes of the other Fairtransport ship.
Jorne, as one of the co-founders of Fairtransport, I can not escape of, once in a while, going to sea in sail. Those times I am still perplexed of the beauty of these wild waters, the skill and happiness of our crew, and the mistery of it all…
Capt. Jorne Langelaan
We are navigating our way from Den Helder to the southern peninsula of Europe.
When you are sailing the North Atlantic waters in the early months of the year, the weather conditions might be sometimes a bit rough.
Fortunately there are nowadays good weather forecasts for the first days to come. The depressions developing on the Atlantic Ocean are moving northeast over the continent and bring us the southwesterly gales. Keeping a good eye on the forecast can be life saving. With this in mind we had to make a stop in Brixham and another one in Douarnenez.
While we were there and waiting for fair weather, we were able to do maintenance on the ship, we tested our new anchor winch and worked on sail training. Provisions for the ship came from local farmers.
Fellow sailors, shipwrights, local merchants and friends came by on the Nordlys. Creating a stable market and expanding ideas for the Fairtransport enterprise.
We departed from Douarnenez on a shiny sunday morning and tacked our way towards the Atlantic Ocean. The Bay of Biscay is well known for its rough seas and has to be avoided in the certain weather conditions.
With a ship like Nordlys you will need about four or five days of fair winds to cross this bay. This brings us to were we are right now. We are sailing southwards on the Atlantic swell about 150 nautical miles from Porto.
On board we are nine crew, so eighteen hands to handle the sails, ropes and rudder, preparing food and so forth..
As a team in the rhythm of the sea.
Porto will be our first harbor where we charge cargo of all kind. The hold will be filled with organic products from the Douro region. We will bring these products by wind and sail to the northern countries of the continent.
Transport makes it possible to eat delicious olives, taste an excellent olive oil,use Atlantic sea salt for your meals and enjoy a natural wine, in for example England, Germany, The Netherlands, Denmark and so forth. Products which are not only produced in a nature friendly way, but also transported so. Sometimes the work on the land is slightly harder, sometimes the transport takes a bit longer… The taste of it all is definitely better! Respect the laws of nature. And nature gives it back.
captain Lammert Osinga
The Focsle, is the second most forward space below decks. In front of the focsle there is still the forepeak. These two areas are divided by the collision bulkhead, which has a steel watertight hatch to go from one to the other. Traditionally the focsle is the crew quarters where the hands before the mast live. On board Tres Hombres, this is the case as well. There are eight bunks. Seven of them are currently inhabited, the eight one is filled up with cargo, 70kg bags of cacao, which did not fit in the cargo hold. Aft of the focsle is the drystores, where most of the food is kept. Sometimes, especially in long ocean crossings, part of the stores of the drystores are stored in the focsle as well. The focsle can be reached through the drystores or from a hatch with a small ladder from deck.
The name focsle, focsel, or foxhole comes from the original fore-castle. The fore-castle was a castle like building on the foredeck of medieval ships. These ships also carried an aft-castle which later developed into the poopdeck. Since I live in the aft-cabin myself, the focsle, on board Tres Hombres, stays a bit of a mythical place for me. I have heard a lot about it of course, but seldom slept there. I did start my sailing career in different other focsles, on other ships. For sure it is the part of the ship, with the most movement, since it is all the way forward. Also, again since it is so far forward, it is the place where the most spray comes over. And as Tres Hombres is a wooden ship, with caulked seams, especially after the burning sun of the tropics, and the beating of the waves of sailing against the trades, it can not be called a really dry place either.
But then, although it can be a though place to live, for some it is also seen as a badge of honor, to start life on a squarerigger in the focsle. I remember a few years ago, one of our trainees, refusing a bunk in the aft-cabin, after this came vacant and I offered it to him. He would almost be offended, no I am a focsle hand, so I stay before the mast! In the old days there was the saying: coming through the hawse pipes, or through the portholes. Through the hawsepipes meant, starting as a focsle hand, so working yourself up from the ground. Through the portholes, would mean starting in the more prestigious rank of an apprentice, living in the cabin, without ever enduring the hardships of the focsle. Fortunately, signing on as a trainee on Tres Hombres, you have a good chance to start in the focsle, so, welcome on board!
Capt. Jorne Langelaan
Photo Sergio Ferreira
People always ask how a girl from the Hague ended up on a Portuguese olive grove…
It all started with my first love, my husband, Guilherme, and a little land where his (Passos) family originates from. Not knowing what to do with the land the family was advised to plant olive trees, since these are low maintenance. Boy, were they wrong!
We started helping the family with harvest & pruning season to escape office life and enjoy the countryside of Portugal. It turned into a passion, selling our handpicked green gold at dutch markets and at some point we decided we wanted to live on the farm. Passeite, Azeite da familia Passos (olive oil from the Passos family) was born.
Producing olive oil however is for wealthy producers (in money or property) To get 1 liter of olive oil you need approx 5-15 kg of olives. It’s hard to explain in a short blog, but basically we knew we couldn’t live of the farm and needed an alternative plan. We opened up a restaurant May 2016 called Taberna do Azeite (the olive oil tavern) in Coimbra.
During our first year living in Portugal we were kneehigh in water, something that didn’t happen in 30 years. The year after was the hottest in decades and enormous parts of central Portugal burnt to the grounds, including parts of our ancient groves. Both these extreme weather conditions, being more close to nature & raising 2 kids made our view on live different. Climate change is real…
We wanted to change our habits and that started with introducing mostly local and organic producers to our restaurant, reusing plastic bottles as olive fly traps and being much more creative with recycling old things.Thanks to Alexandra of New Dawn Traders we were introduced with sailing cargo and we knew this was the right path for our brand, Passeite.
The first olive oil run from Porto to France and UK we couldn’t participate fully since we had sold our olive oil harvest already but we knew then our next harvest should be sailed to Scheveningen,The Hague. The town Marije was raised and has such a special place in our heart. So we asked Fairtransport to be part of this adventure with our mission, sending about 1000 liters. Although their schedule for 2018 was already fixed they made the effort to help. We started our Farm- Schip- Scheveningen adventure.
We started the slogan “Love (y)our nature because it fits exactly our product and purpose. Sending a incredible healthy products in a way that is good for (y)our nature…
There is definitely a lot more to tell about olive oil, our brand and our adventures so we challenge you to come and welcome us when the Nordlys arrives in Scheveningen. We will be there to let you taste and explore the olive flavours of Portugal..
Marije & Guilherme
the Passos Family
Move your cargo in a sustainable way on one of our ships: http://fairtransport.eu/shipping/
Marije Passos at the Nordlys in Porto, Photo by Sergio Ferreira