Quality Entertainment.

The last night of the Tall Ships Race visit literally ended with a bang as the Stockholm Harbor Authority threw a big fireworks show for the fleet. Now I know that I am supposed to be all grown up and whatnot, but the simple truth is that--like many men--I still get a gitty thrill from explosions. What can I say? I am a guy.

So naturally, my evening started off with a bit of excited anticipation. The problem, however, is that this far north it barely gets dark enough to hold a fireworks show during the summer months. So I had some time to kill.

Of course, with a harbor full of sailing ships, a guy like me doesn't really have any trouble 'killing time'. I grabbed a quick bite to eat at a dockside dive and then spent the next few hours meandering up and down the quays gazing at the grand fleet. The long hours of dusk in Scandinavia make for wonderful evening strolls and at 10:00pm I still found myself wandering the waterfront in broad daylight.
The waterfront was packed that evening. Everyone was hanging about waiting for the big fireworks show, but darkness came so very slowly. After a long while, the ships along the quay flicked on their decklights one by one and lit up their elaborate rigging, making the vessels even more striking to the eye.

The best non-explosive light show on the harborfront was undoubtedly the Mexican bark Cuauhtemoc. She was decorated from stem to stern with strands of festive lighting and signal flags topped with a generous helping of lively mariachi music. There was really no question that Cuauhtemoc was the party on the waterfront.

And why not? After all, Cuauhtemoc had just entered her 25th year of service (like me!) and so quite naturally the whole ship was rigged up like a big floating birthday cake.

Stepping out of the daylight-like glow emenating from the Cuauhtemoc into the dimming murk where ship-gazers splashed into unseen puddles with a yelp, I realized it was time to take up position for the show. There were literally dozens of good spots around Stockholm Harbor to view the fireworks show, but picking the best one was going to be a challenge.

You see, I figure that the key to finding a truly choice spot at such a spectacle--the kind of spot that will make the experience memorable for all time--is to make sure you are close as you can legally be. All this talk about getting back far enough 'to see the show as a whole' is just plain hooey. With big-bang, car-alarm-tripping, professional fireworks shows, closer is always better. Few people dare to understand this. Fireworks are not supposed to just be viewed. They should be experienced. Fully. As in a full-body experience involving all the senses. To fully appreciate a genuine pyrotechnic display one should be able to hear it (thoroughly), feel it (internally), smell it (cautiously), and in certain instances, even taste it (regrettably). That is what a true fireworks show is all about.


To ensure that kind of experience, there was only one place for me to be; on the launching barge. But unfortunately I am not classified as 'VIP' or 'certified in high explosives'. Nor did I have a boat so the second best position alongside the barge was nixed too. But position 3--a small island in the middle of the harbor right by the launching barge called Kastellholmen--was wide open.

It would be a bit of a treck around the harbor to the little bridge going out there so with just 20 minutes until the start of the show I took off at a brisk trot, whisking past the towering silhouettes of the great ships along the pier and constantly tripping and stumbling over the cobblestones.

Dashing across the bridge to Skeppsholmen, the stepping stone island on the way out to Kastellholmen, I caught sight of the Cuauhtemoc lighting up the evening sky. That grand rig standing in front of the aged city with its domed and spired churches...majesty is such a limited word.

As I bounded onto Kastellholmen the moon came swelling up out of the southeast, glowing through an almost imperceptible cirrus that diffused its yellow glow like melting butter.

Settling into my preferred perch along the Kastellholmen shore, I surveyed the dozens of tall ships lining the far shores of the harbor. What a grand sight! Ships of every size, shape, and kind from monstrous cruiseships to grand sailing vessels like the Sedov, on down to the harbor ferries, steamboats, and motor yachts...

...and even the big floating crane, Lodbrok (famous for recovering Vasa's cannons during the 1957-1961 salvage), all lit up with blue spotlights. What a fantastic night to be on the harborfront!

Then, with a pop and a 'fzzz', it began. BANG!

With the rising moon and all those ships in the background, it was a wonderful sight--as beautiful as fireworks shows come. This show gets twenty-five points right out of the gates for aesthetics.

Then the big ones began going off--the heart thumpers and bowel tremblers. Another twenty-five points for providing a physical experience.

(Wish I had been aboard the little tin ferry dashing by; must have been resonating like a kettle-drum).

Pretty soon the prevailing wind began to carry that acrid gunpowder smoke my way. Olfactory impact? Check. This was quickly adding up to a quality, full-body fireworks experience.

Another important aspect in judging a fireworks show is the temporal element, for everyone is disappointed by short show. While watching a good fireworks show, there should be at least three points when you think its all over and then 'pop-fzzzz-BANG!' it starts up again. This show had four of those. Dandy!

By unwritten law, the show must crescendo to a new level after each false-finalé, dazzling all the senses with barrage after barrage of multi-color detonations of various sizes and stylistic effect. Each new beginning should leave spectators dumbfounded with shifting mitures of colors that delight, booms that stun, and powder smoke that gags. Good stuff!

After the third false-finalé the first car alarms should be going off, burning embers from the mega-teeth-rattlers ought to be reaching the water still alight, and small children and dogs should be terrified. I know that sounds mean, but let's face it; fireworks aren't for everyone. On an American Motion Picture Association scale, lightshows like the Lodbrok's colored spotlights would get the all-audiences, family-friendly 'G' rating. But 'G' is for 'gimpy' and good fireworks should shock, amaze, and instill a fear of God. They should Roar and warrant a solid 'R' rating. That's what the Stockholm Harbor Authority secured for the Tall Ships. Verifying that, the Jack Russel terrier beside me dove under a bench, howled, and promptly wet the gravel. Well done.


And like any good fireworks show, it wrapped up with a classic, thunderous, and concussive grand finalé. You know--the kind of explosive, fiery, hell that just about scorches your hair and sucks the air out of your lungs. A real thriller of the variety that a mischevious 10 year-old would enjoy. That's what they had going here in Stockholm that great night.

Now that's a send-off for a grand fleet!

Then it broke. The last explosions rumbled off the cliffs and the harbor fell into a remarkable silence. As the smoke drifted listlessly across the water in the moonlight, I waited for the final and most essential measure of a quality fireworks show--the response.

A truly good show causes a 10-30 second delay while 'the stunned' regain their motor skills. That window can seem deceptivly negative at first. But the moment it breaks with the first sounds of scattered clapping from a few bewildered spectators, you can feel where it is going. It quickly escalates to an applause, and then--and this is why fireworks are best when mixed with boats--then come the horns!

In this case it was a few motorboaters who got off the first blasts--just whiny little squaks--, but within the minute the mighty four-masted Russian bark Sedov rattled the foundation of every building in the city with the loudest and lowest ship's horn you have ever heard. As crewmen on the other vessels ran from their viewing perches in the rigging or on the foredeck toward the wheelhouses and horns, the rest of the fleet chimed in one by one until Stockholm Harbor was awash in a thrilling rumble of ship's horns large and small. Even the cruise ships chimed in, giving one long, low blast after another. When the great salute ended, the horns echoed off the cliffs and encoureaged everyone to start another round . It was great! It went on for like five minutes! There dogs howling and seabirds screeching off into the dark in great flocks. Now that's a response.

Obviously I was pretty pleased witht the whole affair. Look at that stupid grin on my face! Like a fox strolling out of the hen house....beamin' like the Cuauhtemoc.

Heading back across the bridge afforded a great view of all the smaller craft (under 250 tons) lined up along Gamla Stan.

It was magical just to gaze at all those little vessels lined up along that aged center of Stockholm that, long ago, was lined with sailing vessels like this every night.

Following the shore past the fleet it was clear that the end of their visit had come. The piers had fallen quiet and the crews were resting up before their morning departure.

The next day they would begin moving out of Stockholm, making for a shallow bar offshore known as Revengegrundet. There, these Coast Guard vessels would be waiting with the icebreaker Sankt Erik to serve as the start line for the next leg of the race.

But during the preceding 5 days, Stockholm had turned out in force to throw an enormous party in celebration of its maritime heritage both past and present. It is a city that knows its routes and doesn't hesitate to light up the night in honor of the centuries of shipping that have passed through this venerable port.

Besides, it was just good, quality entertainment.