Brian Cowen in the nip

I had to do a double take. "did he just say paintings of an Taoiseach semi- naked?" was my initial reaction when I heard in passing about the latest scandal in Irish politics( for once it wasnt about more money being squandered or how far in debt we really are). I for one and I'm sure I'm not the only one, would never dream of picturing him nor want to picture him in the nip, I think it's be best all round if he kept his clothes where there supposed to be: on him. I don't mean to say he isn't physically attractive, surely someone out there thinks he has fine physical attributes, i for one am not one of those, I'd much prefer to think of our leader as one, fully clothed,I'm not sure where he stands on the hippy lifestyle.

In fairness, this has caused far too much uproar than it should have. Have we nothing better to get excited about? Clearly not. Brian Cowen is an easy target for caricatures, he has, how do you say, a rather distinctive physical appearance, making him ideal. The Irish times features him regularly. Why so mad at this? Matt Cooper literally hasn't closed his mouth to take a deep breath form talking about the incident. Gardai sent to the radio station, a school teacher questioned, RTE news apologise, such hype over something so small. Now to top it all off the little people feel hard done by, that he should've been allowed to hang the picture up, after all what has happened to freedom of speech? But in fairness gluing the paintings to the National Art Gallery probably wasn't this guys smartest move, it is a prized area housing the national collection of Irish and European fine art. Defacing the walls of the gallery? Not what I would have choosen. Surely his front door wouldve been more impressive?

Now people are apparently posting naked drawings of him to their blogs/facebook pages, where will it stop? A naked Dail Eireann? I dread the thought.

No Jeanie Johnston?

The Jeanie won't be used as a replacement for Asgard II, instead we'll use Creidne,which was originally used as a stop gap for when Asgard II was being built and a Norwegian ship Christian Raddich. Apparently it costs too much to crew her, if i remember correctly not all of the crew are on a big wage in fact for the work they do do its actually pittance.

I find this quite annoying and frustrating, yes Jeanie needs double the crew but she also takes 28 trainees, has water tight doors and is sadly tied up along Custom House Quay. Trust the Irish to put money elsewhere when we need it to stay in the country now more than ever. I have no vices with Christian Raddich she is a fine ship and anyone privileged enough to sail her should make the most of any opportunity, but why? Surely we'd be "killing two birds with one stone" so to speak, Irish is back sail training and Jeanie is back where she belongs.

Another argument given was "that Jeanie cant participate in races", who says she cant? Obviously she is slower in the water than Asgard II but given the right wind she can move, believe me, I know. She has only ever had one chance in the Tall Ships Races, in 2005 and yes maybe she didn't fair too well but at the end of the day the wind just wasn't strong enough to get her moving. Of course Jeanie can participate, probably just not as competitively as Asgard II could, she could move, she could glide along the water with grace leaving those behind her in awe of her wake. Take about kicking a dog when he's down, why not give her a chance? Why not let her see if she can do it? There's one thing about sailing in the tall ships and how amazing an experience it is but there's another feeling when you're sailing aboard your own Irish tall ship, you feel pride and passion, an immense sense of achievement. Christian Raddich will provide people with an amazing experience but the only thing lacking will be that she's not Irish, she's not our own.

What do we do to save our sail training? We just use Creidne, a 48 ft bermudan ketch also coincidentally built in Norway in 1967 instead. She is in refit now hoping to be ready for May. Creidne can only take 8 trainees and will be definitely an entirely different taster of sail training for the trainees. moving from 20 to 8 is quite a jump and Asgard II already had quite a large demand, what do they expect to do with all the people who miss out? Yes Creidne will stay in Irish waters and yes Jeanie cant fit into the same size ports as Asgard II could but she can sail around Ireland and has and I hope will do this again. In reality Creidne is a yacht, she is not a square rigger, these two cannot be compared, it is surely a step backwards we've taken? One step forwards two steps backwards. I'm afraid fro Irish sail training. I don't know the solution, maybe if times weren't so "bleak" things would be easier, but that's just an easy excuse a get off of jail free card for the minister. He never seemed to care about our beloved Asgard II.

But I know we can do better than this. In my eyes the only ship which should be used now, as a temporary replacement, as we try in earnest to solve to woes of Irish sail training is the Jeanie.

For the sake of sail training in this nation I hope that Capt. Colm Newport's efforts to salvage Asgard II yield dividends. Surely a refurbishment or new build would help the country? Jobs, raised spirits, belief that the government can get something right, restore what little faith we have.

I cannot stress enough the benefits of sail training to the youth and not so young of the nation. People gain confidence, become free, work in a team environment relying on others, learn how every action has a consequence, believe in themselves, believe that they can achieve, believe that they can do what they want, they learn to believe. Learning to sail is an added interesting bonus, learning to trust a ship and people you've just met, well that's a challenge. And we all love a challenge don't we?

CMulrooney

Where next?

So here we are, the Asgard II seems to be lost to a watery grave at the minute, much to my dismay. I would like nothing better than to see her where she belongs, on the sea not under it. But I'm afraid Mr. O'Dea never even pretended to look like he cared when she sank, it's a sad truth. A maritime nation willing to let our sail training disappear before our very eyes without intervening.

The question I want to know the answer to is why isn't the Jeanie Johnston being used, even just to fill a gap? She is Irish, she is wooden, she can sail, she proved her worth sailing across the Atlantic and back, no mean feat. And yes she cost enough money, why not put her to use. I'm not saying use her as a permanent replacement. She and Asgard II are two different kettle of fish, having sailed on both I'm justified to say that. Both have different qualities and values. In my eyes the two are incomparable. That my seem strange, they are after all sail training ships, yes but my experiences on both differ drastically. Asgard II having a more confined space, you eat where you sleep, privacy next to none, showers a possible maybe a generally younger group of trainees whom more then likely decided on a whim or recommendation from a friend to give it a go. Where as Jeanie is slightly more comfortable, two berth cabins, numerous heads, showers and other little luxuries. The Asgard II was solely government owned so her berths could be subsidised,as they should be, sail training is of huge benefit to the youth of the nation. on the other hand, Jeanie was purchased by a semi-state body and then tendered out for private charter, this having an effect on how they were run. Both needed to make an income but Jeanie more so, so her famine museum is utilised in ports during open ship to bring in a small revenue, she is also hired out for corporate events and parties on board and completes day sail programmes form different ports, not to mention her actual sail training overnight voyages, which shows her versatility and capabilities. Trying obtain a profit from a sail training ship doesn't happen over night, it's a long drawn out process, maintenance being the main output, so she has been used in every way she can to make money, she is after all a business.People seem to look down on this, that she should be sailing more, yes she should but the truth is she still needs to earn money for her keep and if that involves open ship then in the eyes of an investor there is no question, after all nobody likes losing money. But at the end of the day they both have the same purpose, to teach sailing to those brave enough to venture on board.

Standing aboard the Jeanie Johnston one day I heard a Dublin man quip "That's the Asgard, I own that ship, I pay my taxes" It's statements like this that get us nowhere. Do you own that bus stop sign or lay claim to one of the litter bins lining the streets, a brick that was used to build a wall? The thought is ridiculous. Yes tax payers money was used to build both ships, but we should be proud of them and show them off, not try and belittle their standing in society (this incident being only one of many) If statements like that are going to be made surely they should aimed at politicians who have squandered money on themselves, Bertie for instance.

It seems to be us, the Irish nation, who have some sort of problem with the Jeanie, everywhere she goes she receives great welcome and applause, people line the quay walls, queues form to get on board, everyone is interested. At a festival in Liverpool, Jeanie had the most visits for open ship out of everyone, this including Dar Mlodziezy, at 110.6 m long the flagship of Poland's Merchant Marine Academy, this shows the draw the Jeanie has. She has friends world wide. We seem to think ( and yes I am generalising here, I know there are a lot of people who care deeply for Jeanie) that because she went over budget, what project doesn't and took longer than anticipated to build, again what project doesn't that she isn't worth her keep. She is a fine ship built by those with talent, namely the O'Regan brothers. Possibly some things/people should have been done differently, I wasn't there, who am I to comment. But the end result being we have a fine Irish wooden sail training vessel who is now tied up along Custom House Quay ready and willing to go to sea, why not make it happen. Put her where sea belongs, sailing, while we hope that some kind of miracle will raise Asgard II form her watery grave. It makes sense. Maybe then people will realise how great she really is.

Open your eyes and see what's in front of you. Don't be blinded by bureaucracy, and politics. Do what's right, what we as a maritime nation need. Our spirits have been uplifted by our domination in sports recently, Grand Slam winners in rugby and a world super bantam weight boxing champion, why not go one step further and put Irish sail training back on the map. We are after all a maritime nation. Could you imagine us hosting the Tall Ships Race, one of the pinnacles in sail training in 2011 without an Irish entry? I was aboard Asgard II in 2005 when she led Jeanie and Dunbrody out of Waterford harbour and I can safely say I have never felt prouder in my life to be Irish and to be standing on deck of one of the Irish tall ships as we saluted the Jeanie and Dunbrody and they likewise, an immense unforgettable experience. To think there may not even be one of these fine ships leading the fleet out is a joke. How embarrassing for an island nation. Surely the solution is simple?

CMulrooney

The Adventures of Rainow Beach

"Oh yeah guys you won't have any phone signal from when we turn off this highway" the bus driver announced as he swiftly took a right onto a new road. I didn't think much about it at the time.

Here I was in Rainbow beach, the rainbows were plentiful as well, well whenever the rain decided to take a short break. Fraser Island here I come. We were shepherded into a room, split onto groups, filled out alcohol lists, given a safety brief(don't forget the dingoes) and then asked for our credit cards. This being a moment that i did a double take, what? Credit cards? My heart jumped as far towards my mouth as is physically possible. Credit card- I think not.

There I stood happily in line,filled out my forms and did my business, next the dreaded moment. "Credit card?" "Don't have one" "$100 deposit instead, come back to me in the morning". My jaw dropped. Now I'm not usually that much of a penny counter, but this time things were different. "Well there goes my trip to Fraser island then, 3 days in rainbow beach instead, delightful" I thought. $100 isn't all that much I hear you say. I agree, but I had a slight problem, I had no Aussie ATM card. My previous hostel was supposed to forward it, but of course they didn't, how silly of me to think otherwise. I had limited cash, just about enough to cover the "extras" of the trip and a bit left over. Now there are no banks in Rainbow Beach, that would just be too easy. No matter how many times, or what way I looked at my cash it just wouldn't add up to $100. Plus I still had to eat, the sad thing being I couldn't even afford the $5 meal on offer, no lasagna for me. No little old me had to slave away with rations in the kitchen with one hob, two saucepans and one knife. Times were hard.

So I exhausted all possibilities: get a bus to the next town, walk there and back, ring home and ask for a few bob. Then realisation kicked, it was the weekend, banks don't do weekends, so none of these were an option and I couldn't afford to go on a wild goose chase. I had no signal whatsoever. I did manage to get an email away and a voice message from a dodgy phone box, but really it was all in vain. The banks were closed.

I had no options, falling short of selling myself. I began to make myself think Rainbow Beach wasn't all that bad in the rain and I could stay here another couple of nights, hey there were beaches and wait what's that, more beaches. After meeting my guide I was pretty sure there might be some head cases around, entertaining sometimes, for 3 days, I think not. Our tour on arrival by the bus driver had been "there's the hostels, that's the surf club and there's a shop." maybe not so bad if it wasn't constantly pouring rain.

My collection of 10 and 20 cents paid for dinner and I even managed to stretch to a bottle of lemonade and a packet of sweets for the trip. (I lived in hope!) Plus there was no way I'd swallow my pride that much and hand them over as my deposit. Well maybe if they reached to $100 mark but they didn't even come close.

I tried to find an answer, what could I sell, how could I make money fast, stealing isn't my style. who could I ask?

I checked the ATM machine in the hope it was all a big mistake and money would come flying out at me, if only. Night came and went, still no solution. I set out with the mind frame everything''ll be alright. I did everything as normal,stored my backpack, checked out(that was another $10 closer to Fraser island), I had my free pancakes. Then it happened.

I just did it, I went all in and didn't look back or think twice. Well I had no other choice really, I'd committed enough time and money to this already, I wasn't going to give up at the last hurdle. What else could i do? But ask a fellow backpacker (one a little less tight with cash than the rest, cash, alcohol and food are the most prized possessions of backpackers, this was no mean feat.) I'd sunk pretty low, I was sure she'd oblige, the lifesaver that she is, I never thought it'd come to begging.

I was all sorted now (well except for the fact that I'd have to scrounge more money for fuel and ice- i swear it's not a habit of mine!). I waited smugly for the wacky guide to appear jumping around the corner but he didn't show. He sent another guy instead who seemed to be rather confused as to why I was wanting to give him $100 - what had he done last night? He hadn't been told. I should've just kept quiet(damn honesty). Lesson learnt.

So we loaded our 4x4 and did a check on the vehicle. Honestly not knowing what we were looking for, hey I'm no mechanic. But after hearing woes of deposits and cash being handed over from fellow backpackers, it wasn't really a risk i wanted to take never mind was able to take, i didn't really fancy washing dishes or scrubbing floors for the rest of my days in debt. I'd struggled to come up with a $100 deposit never mind anything else.

The sky looked bleak but the atmosphere was electric, sure who wouldn't look forward to being crammed into a 4x4 with 11 strangers voyaging into the unknown. We were off to explore a dingo infested island where we were assured we'd "come back with sand in places we never knew existed", wondering why we were given a shovel and told "remember to bury at least 50cm deep" which lay beside a rather dubious looking toilet roll, what were we letting ourselves into? It's all a bit mad I'm thinking - a 4x4, 11 backpackers, eskies, beer for 3days, shovels, a map, a crash course in driving 4x4s and a tent, now off you go to the worlds largest sand island - just watch out for the dingoes -"oh and don't drive in the sea, remember about the tide" too good to be true? No wonder they looked for credit cards.

I'm just glad I cant drive is all I can say,otherwise things probably would have taken a turn for the worse.

We bounce along the track, literally, finding out about each other in such cosy quarters, listening to some tunes and trying in vain to find out which way is best to sit without doing damage to yourself, just waiting for the sand. We had our itinerary in hand, there was no stopping us. Indian head here we come. A quick pit stop at the Maheno wreck, including nearly being destroyed by all the Japanese on their tour buses and we've driven the full length of the island, all 75 miles, time to go home now. A fellow backpacker quipped up "where's all the sand?" "oh he's a funny one" I thought to myself, I'm afraid to say he wasn't actually joking, which was ever so slightly worrying. Looked like an interesting few days ahead!

The rain didn't ease, but that wasn't going to stop us. We climbed to the top to take in some spectacular views trying not to get too close to the edge to avoid being blown over whilst trying in earnest to hold on to hats which were past mid take off. All in a days work. "DINGO" was roared. About 20metres away was a real live,not behind a cage in a zoo dingo scanning the area and moving steadily closer. I'd seen it, it could leave now. In fairness it was well used to humans, people got up close and personal, patting it's head.

We made a few stops before setting up camp, notably the Red Canyon, before our camping spot beside Eli creek. The other groups followed suit, we were the leaders of the pack and we set up shelter between the 4x4s with a tarpaulin, pretty niftily with my input if I do say so myself. We tried to hid the tents from the wind. Here we were home sweet home.. Dinner was cooked by our chef, prep was done by yours truly and a hearty meal of steak and good old spuds was had, albeit a little slower than anticipated and without fried onions to someones dismay. Sand is a great appetiser.

The fun began. Cans were cracked open, music was blared, goon was swallowed, new friendships were made. We were safe from the rain in our shelter who cared about the roving dingoes, toilet breaks were an adventure. Then bed time came and surprise surprise our lovely sheltered tent had been very cunningly pinched. Sleeping bags in tow we found a new one and rested our weary heads. Alas I didn't have a trusty goon bag pillow, I had to suffer on with the ground. It's safe to say not much sleep was had that night. (I'm talking about because of the rain.) A puddle began to form, I shuffled away from the edge, the wind howled, the rain beater blew off. The puddle became a lake. It was like standing in the rain except there we were in our pj's exposed to the elements with only a sleeping bag as shelter. We made a dash for the truck and it looked like we weren't the only ones who'd been hung out to dry. Slowly the trucks began filling up with wet weary worse for wear backpackers. Our neighbours made a quick exit. We all snuggled up in the 4x4s as dingoes prowled around the drinks eskies, who knew they had such a thirst. Last nights "d-floor" was now a swamp. Spirits dampened (except for those few who how shall we say were lucky last night....and didn't have a flooded tent!) We hit the road, well okay the sand, and didn't look back. We had tide restrictions, so it was now or well ages later. Now was the decision all round, time to go home. But when push came to shove we couldn't leave without seeing lake Mc Kenzie. It was well worth it. The other groups went ahead, we dared to be different. White sand, crystal clear warm bluey green water, not a soul in sight. It even stopped raining. Bliss. Here I was deemed "uncool" by a groupie because I wasn't willing to go hell for leather and go swimming properly instead of wading, "where am I kindergarten?" I thought.

Refreshed and beaming happily to ourselves for being so clever and staying we headed to central park for a feast, well what else would we do with all that food. We found out it had been closed due to 90km/hr winds last night,that was reassuring to hear.

Here we found a new friend, backpackers tend to be good at picking up stragglers. He came out to do a solo trek around the island, mad, I think so. Cutting our losses we headed home, back for a much deserved hot shower at the hostel.

It may have been wet (whats that to an Irish person) slightly different to all the postcard pictures, but it was definitely unforgettable.

My Official Arrival In Australia

A story I wrote that was published in a magazine about my mishaps/adventure arriving in Australia, I cant help but laugh at it now, but at the time it seemed like a nightmare, like on of those shows on tv, you see the people and think "never me". What I learned - never say never!

Irish traveller thought the flight to Oz was bad, then she met the Aussie custom officials...

Bleary-eyed and dazed I threw my backpack on the conveyor belt, my final hurdle before being let loose in Oz. After all, my passport had been stamped, I passed the sniffer dog test. This was easy.I was ready for the big scanning machine, well mostly. I was ready to sleep. I’d left home on Tuesday, it was now Friday and it was pitch black – who knew it got dark so early here.
Confident, I handed in my passport and little arrivals card. My bags went through. They came out the other side. They sat there. I waited. Needless to say I was growing slightly anxious watching the small group gathering. For once I wasn’t particularly happy about people talking about me.

My bags just sat idly. “I could just take them, but they might notice me,” I thought. I felt like
saying “hello! I’m over here”. I figured I better not. I’d just spent 23 hours on a plane, 13 of those squished in between two not so friendly strangers. I’d experienced morning turn into night which turned into evening – all very confusing. I didn’t want to see another plane for a long time.
I waited, lips sealed.

Eventually, and I mean eventually, a man towered over me: “These your bags?” (“No, I’ve just been standing here for fun all this time...”)
“Follow me”.

Gulp! My heart skipped a beat. Questions raced through my head (I had nothing illegal, I
surely wasn’t illegal, unless...those damn travel sweets!). Just go with the flow I thought.
Interrogation time. He left no stone unturned. It was like one of those airport shows on telly, people brought in for questioning in an office. Only there was no office, just a table for everyone to see and this wasn’t television, it was me. I looked around for the You’ve Been Framed production crew – no joy.

I became a big deal. People stared, staff came over for a peek. My USB was sent anyway
for inspection, it came back “clean”. Was I dreaming?

The questions didn’t stop. Who,where, when, why, why this, why that, why, why?
My brain was fried. “Just let it end,” I wished. The fear of having to fly home was
becoming more like a reality and ever so slightly sickening.
Then came the travel sweets (surely not?). He paused. lifted them with his white gloves. I waited. Nothing.

After what felt like a lifetime and a billion questions later he changed from taking things out
to putting them back in. I rubbed my weary eyes. A good sign?
I stood, my mouth dry, my head pounding, exhausted, confused, unsure. Silence.

“Thank you, you can go now. Enjoy your time in Australia.” I hesitated. What?No
explanation. Who was I to argue. I picked up my bags and shuffled out to wait for my bus (I was getting good at that-waiting). I passed my new “best friends” feeling they knew a little more about me than I was comfy with.

I waited. I was on the other side of the world, I was tired (slight understatement), it was dark and warm and my bags had just been searched – why? I didn’t know but I did know it was time for bed.

After a few detours we arrived at the hostel, the entrance just around the corner. Relieved, I headed around. But slowly my happiness turned to fear as I stood before a closed
lifeless hostel.

I stared at a locked door. Uh-oh, I have no idea where I am, the bus a distant memory. It’s late, it’s dark thoughts raced through my head. My backpack began to hurt, my eyelids drawing closed. What now? Mum?

I raised my hand to knock. It opened. Phew. “Hey Irish? It’s awful late...” My story unravelled, was this how all my Oz adventures
would begin?

CMulrooney

Asgard II

A tribute I wrote for the Asgard Book Of Memories which we will hopefully be seeing on shelves near you soon.


The Asgard II is an Irish tall ship with sank of the Bay of Biscay on 11th September 2008. A fine ship and a great loss to Irish sail training. I live in the hope she will be raised from her watery grave to fight another day.

Asgard II From My Eyes

"How was it then?" was the eagerly awaited question. "Well let's see, it was wet, cold and windy, people were as sick as dogs, sleep was little and far between, we were constantly swaying, we even had to turn back into port one night…" After hearing this, coupled with the fact most people thought I'd lost the plot wanting to pay to go away sailing for a week with a bunch of strangers in the first place, the idea that I was already attempting to secure my next voyage seemed ludicrous. Such was the lure of the Asgard II.


She had an appeal, she drew people in and kept them interested but always left them longing for more, a strange attraction. Lets face it, the thought of being stuck in a confined wooden floating ship with others whom you had no control over, ranging from 16 to 60 plus, who came with personalities from Ross O'Carroll Kelly to Victor Meldrew(I don't believe it) to Dougal, whilst having curfews (Cinderella anyone?), sometimes having to try in earnest to manoeuvre food into your mouth while concentrating on not falling over and ending up in some poor unfortunate's bunk leaving him with cabbage and spuds for company for the night, isn't exactly everybody's cup of tea. Never mind being yelled at to haul or let go ropes( what this one?!), standing on deck on lookout in the wee hours of the morning when being wrapped up in a duvet seemed a much nicer plan, trying so hard not to write your initials in the wake of the ship on helm duty, don't even get me started on galley duty,. The never ending mountain of dishes stacked and waiting to be washed dried and put away, have you seen the size of the saucepans? Seriously, they're big believe me(emphasis on the big). The highlight, handing out the meals to everyone, I'm pretty sure most people hated going in serving the permanent crew on their first trip ("that's the captain's mug", uh-oh!), the fun started when Asgard II had a nice pitch or roll going, it took concentration, no, more determination and a lot of luck to get the plates out without any causalities, the pressure! Sure this wouldn't tick everybody's boxes on an ideal trip away, but I don't think she was supposed to.


The thought of a shower becoming a luxury, one every couple of days or so if you're lucky, definitely turned some peoples noses up, "you mean I cant shower every day?!", but lets face it, everybody was in the same boat (literally). All these combined with a great crew made the Asgard what she was, an unforgettable adventure.


I have yet to meet somebody who didn't thoroughly enjoy being on board Asgard, some satisfied with the taste of one voyage others longing for more. I cannot even fathom the feeling she left you with after sailing her, you felt a great attachment, every time I saw her in different ports I couldn't help but smile. I think it was a sense of pride, proud to have sailed her, proud she was Irish, proud to be Irish and proud to see her changing many other peoples' lives along her journey. Everyone left a part of themselves aboard Asgard II and was left with part of her charm instilled in them.


That's exactly what she did, she changed lives, she allowed people to come into a group of unknown people and be who they wanted to be, to forget about how everyone else saw them and put their best foot forward. People flourished, confidence was gained, friendships were made that would stand the test of time, teams, like well oiled machines were formed overnight, from people who until a few hours ago never spoke one word to each other, it was like a magical experience (all be it full of hard graft), the Asgard II provided people with the chance to, yes, learn to sail but most importantly to learn about themselves as people.

What made the Asgard special? A number of factors, her camaraderie, her atmosphere, but most of all the permanent crew. They were the back bone, always there at the ready, answering questions, seeing things before they happened, full of sailors' stories (someone once said fairytales begin with "once upon a time" sailors stories with "and there I was…"), fun, likable, quirky, reliable people full of vast varying experience and indispensable knowledge, without them Asgard II was nothing.


I can safely say I'll never forget standing on the deck of the Asgard II during the Tall ships 2005 sailing out of Waterford. The Asgard II, the Jeanie Johnston and Dunbrody side by side, an historic moment, hoards of people lined the shores, fogs horns sounded, helicopters flew by, people waved, to us the crew standing on deck, flying the flag, off on an adventure aboard and what a trip it was, sun and little wind, the sight of ships under full sail, starry nights, learning why the captain is no longer a fan of oranges or tuna (of course he picked the perfect time to recant his tale, while I was eating an orange!), deck showers, arriving in Cherbourg with the generator not too happy, land sickness (swaying walking through the aisles of shops is normal), the festival, the fun. What more could you ask for? Lying on deck surrounded by the deep blue sea with nothing in sight only the vast ocean and the odd stray bird for company, what worry in the world would you have. Never mind the mundanity of life on land, the sea is an escape, a different world, and Asgard II provided that. A package holiday, now why would you want that when the Asgard II could give you the most memorable time ever.

Why did people wish so much to sail her again? Simple, it was the memories. What can compare to standing on deck at twilight and the sight of dolphins breaking the bow, trying to manage to get yourself steady in your bunk to tie up the lee sheet, harbour stowing the sails ("you think I'll be able to tie that knot up there standing on that foot rope with one hand? Not asking a lot!"), meeting new people from all walks of life, laughter, pictures, pubs, setting sail, the cup of tea that came just at the right time on watch, hanging out on the bowsprit, learning Murphy's law or that "bleeding jaysus" meant stay well away! I'll never forget my first introduction onboard, the captain was duly explaining the ways and wonders of the "heads", and informing us how one sheet of toilet roll was the ration, "now there's being green and there's just plain mean" I thought, little did I know then he was being deadly serious (as if you'd doubt that face!).


Every trip on Asgard II was different. Affecting each person a different way. But there is no way anyone could or ever would want to forget their voyage aboard Asgard II. She taught me many things about myself, about sailing, about life and for that I'll always be indebted to her. If planks of wood could talk, the stories she'd tell!

Her legacy will always live on.

CMulrooney