The day I stepped onboard the top gallant schooner ACTIV, the smell of tar, linseed oil and cigarettes clouded the air. The craftsmanship around me was almost overwhelming. I was nervous yet enthralled with it all. I watched as all of the tattered, worn crew scurried about finishing up their hard day's work. I took a good look around. She was a marvelous ship. As I had walked down the dock, I noticed the sails had yet to be lashed on and most of the rigging was not yet installed. I thought to myself how in a few short days this vessel would be in shipshape and on its way to the Arctic.

This was the very beginning of my one month seafaring adventure as voyage crew sailing from Lunenburg, Nova Scotia to Svalbard, Norway. We had intentions of delivering the ship, gathering stormy footage, and capturing the true image of life as sea while on our way up north. The ultimate goal was to transport the ship to Svalbard to use her as a key feature in creating a BBC mini TV series based on Ian McGuire’s fiction novel, The North Water.

The next few days of work passed by in the blink of an eye. We had gained the entirety of our crew, we provisioned, we replaced lines, we lashed sails and we even made time to share a farewell beer with the members of the local community. I let out a huge sigh of relief knowing the refit of the ship and the scenic work had finally come to an end. The locals of Lunenburg jumped on their wooden schooners to see us off as we set sail.

My job was to lay aloft to unfurl the sails. I climbed to the top of the mast and started unpacking sails, getting them ready to set. This was the long awaited moment we had all worked so hard towards. I was tasked to stay aloft and overhaul the buntline as the sail was set free. This job entailed standing on a platform about half way up the mast, guiding a rope which was notorious for getting tangled up. As the sail set effortlessly, I watched with a sense of awe as the colorful, quaint town of Lunenburg slowly disappeared into the horizon.

In a vow of good luck, fair winds and following seas, our captain shot off several blank shots from a gun. We cheered and waved to show our appreciation for the people of Lunenburg. A final goodbye and a big thank you for the warm hospitality of the open hearted, sea faring, tight knit town. Once I climbed back down to the deck we gathered for an ounce of smooth dark rum. With yet another form of a nautical superstition we filled up the shot glass carefully placing a Canadian dime at the bottom. With care not to drink it, we then tossed the dime overboard with a small quantity of rum as a gift to Poseidon, the Greek god of the sea. Being Nova Scotian I played the famous maritime song, Farewell to Nova Scotia, and just like that we were off.

The story continues...stay tuned for part II.