The wooden ship we sailed with is a Turkish Gulet of impressive proportions. I gauge its length to be more than 25 meters. It has two masts and carries all in all four sails.
Andreas fastening the rope that holds the Genoa
Two of them unfold by being rolled out along furlings, in the front of the vessel, and blow up like balloons when unfolded and with the wind being proficient. I gather the foremost of them to be called Genoa. On some occasions, they alone drove the boat at almost 8 knots (15 km/hour).
Behind them, on the two masts, hang what I would call more traditional sails, which each have to be raised from a horizontal beam. If I am not mistaken, they are called Gaffel sails.
Here I am at the rudder, keeping the boat aligned to the wind.
The beams have to be fastened at an angle. This permits the wind, blowing at the sails more or less from the opposite angle, to propel the boat ahead. It goes without saying that a lot of handforce is needed to raise and lower these two sails, whereas the two front sails are relatively easy to manoeuvre.
Sails are set as soon as breeze turns into wind. For doing this it helps to steer the boat against the wind. This means that a third person has to stand at the rudder, whilst Hans Christian and Andreas work with the sails. This was usually entrusted to Isolde, but even the guests were sometimes invited to “do the honour”.
The maximum speed we made, with the four sails raised, was up to 10 knots (about 20 km/h). I can tell you that this is an impressive experience indeed. The boat rushes ahead in relative silence. When you sit in the captain’s lounge at the back of the boat, you do not realise that the vessel is surfing ahead. You notice only it’s rolling, following the waves that accost it from the side.
But as soon as you walk to the front of the boat, the experience is quite different. The front cuts the waves in a strong forward movement, splashing your face and glasses. Turning around, you see the whole boat ascending and descending, majestically, in the waves; the sails are bulging and singing, the boat is creaking and you get a full comprehension of the forces at play.
You might believe you are standing on a small barge, subjected to the elements. Fortunately, you notice ordinary “diminutive” sail boats alongside now and then, which are usually being surpassed by Algarina with its great mass and, through comparison, you are reconvinced that you are indeed standing on a large ship.
The ship is large indeed; in its entrails it harbours 6 cabins, each with a combined toilet and shower room. Ten guests can be accommodated in addition to the three crewmembers. The captain’s lounge in the back of the ship seats about 8 persons. But everyone gets a seat at the large table located “al fresco” on the back of the boat, just behind the captain’s lounge.
Along the trip, the preferred way of taking shelter in the evening is to put down anchor in a secure bay. By lowering a ladder, it is easy to either take a swim around the boat, or board the small dinghy for visits ashore.
The anchoring is a relatively relaxing experience. The anchor is let go and the ship made to back, slowly, by motor power. Simultaneously, the anchor chain is released up to a length of about 100 meters. Through its considerable weight, surpassing a ton, the anchor chain, lying on the seabed, keeps the ship on the leash, so to speak, permitting only a slow and narrow turning with the wind, which, anyhow, usually abates at sunset.
Algarina safely anchored in a sheltered bay.
In contrast to this, berthing of the vessel in its “home”, the marina at Murter, proves to be a more intricate experience. Anyone having seen the Swedish movie “Att angöra en brygga” (“How to berth a boat”) will know what is at stake.
First the anchor must be lowered, whilst assuring that the released chain is exactly in line with the berth. If there is wind, however mild, the boat must then start its berthing by slowly backing with engine power towards the dock, at an angle, such that the wind will nudge it perfectly in line with the dock at the exact moment at which it is entering it. This is not self-evident and takes the co-operation of the full crew.
