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.

Aboard Cuauhtemoc

It's high time I finally take you aboard some of these Tall Ships.
The first one to open to the pblic (and thus the first one I boarded, for I wasted no time) was the Mexican naval training bark Cuauhtemoc--fast becoming a popular feature of this blog. And why not? Cuauhtemoc was definitely the center of the show!

From my perch on the bluffs overlooking Stockholm Harbor where I set up to watch the first ships arriving from Finland, I had a pretty good view of the pierside where the biggest vessels were docking. From that vantage point I could relax and enjoy the harbor--and keep an eye on whether any of the ships were opened for boarding.

Little more than two hours after the Cuautemoc had docked, I spotted a surge in the crowd alongside the ship--a surge toward the gangplank. The ship was open!

I scuttled down from the high bluff and found that the Cuauhtemoc was indeed open to visitors--a full 36 hours ahead of the official opening of the Tall Ships Race visit to Stockholm. What can I say, Mexico knows how to greet the public and win a following.

When I reached the gangplank, a large group of her own crew was returning to the ship. In the short time they had been in port, the officer cadets had already headed out sightseeing, many of them passing by me with Vasa Museum gift shop bags (talk about role reversal).

Three minutes later, I was in that cathedral of rigging.....although it was something of an unconventional 'cathedral' with all the festive mariachi music blaring away from the loudspeakers. Livliest music on the planet and mighty refreshing amidst the melancholy ballads of Northern Europe.

Once I got over the inital 'awe response', I headed up the starboard alleyway past the galley and.....OH MY LORD. MEXICAN FOOD!!!!!!!

Like a golden ray of sunshine on a stormy day came the most fantastic aromas of Mexican cuisine. Holy smokes! I had not smelled Mexican food in months. It is a good thing the crew had the presence of mind to string a rope across the entryway to the galley or I would have been in there in a moment--and in a bit of trouble with the half dozen Mexican cooks already warding off the tourists. But oh, how I wanted to get down on my knees and beg for an enchilada or a taste of guacamole.

I was suffering horribly from Mexican food deprivation, I tell you. Sure, you can buy "nachos" in Stockholm, but it isn't at all the same. For one, there is no cheese--WTF?. How can that be considered Nachos? What is the world coming to when a cheeseless pile of imitation corn chips can pass as a platter of sacred Nachos? A travesty!

Biting my lip for an extra measure of self-control, I continued forward past the cooks and crew. Some looked as if they desperately wanted off the ship, to go explore this new port, and maybe have some real Scandinavian pickled fish instead of the same old burritos and fajitas they had to suffer through each day.

Well, I managed to get myself past the fantastic smells and up onto the foredeck....where the smells of good Mexican cooking were even stronger! The skylight hatches to the galley were open to alleviate the heat and I just about dived down one, aiming for that big kettle of refried beans or the mountain of tortillas.

But in the nautical environs of the foredeck my principal passion regained its grip on me and the salt air caught my attention again. What a spectacularly clean and tidy ship! I mean, I've seen 'ship-shape', but the Mexican crew had a true showpiece here. The carefully coiled lines....

...the spotless and perfect deck planking, the smart uniforms, the carefully flaked headsails...

...the freshly painted deck equipment, the polished anchor bell...

...even the 3-inch guns were glimmering away in the sun, their brass components polished up to the point where the reflection off of them constituted a weapon in itself.

Even the belaying pins were shined up on their varnished mohagany pinrails and hung with perfect coils of new (synthetic) lines. Note that even the shrouds, painted in a galvanized aluminum paint, are perfect--each one square and spotless.

In fact the whole rig was pretty near perfect. The masts and yards were freshly painted and the sails clewed up smartly--but not furled. That way they flopped lazily in the breeze, giving the rig a little more life than the other ships had (As if the mariachi music wasn't lively enough).

The midship's bell station/smoke stack with all its cast bronze plaques was equally well maintained. Kind of struck me like a shrine of some sort.....

The main ship's bell was so perfectly polished that you could almost see your future in it! these sailors must have spent all day and night rubbing away at the bronzework.

As I came aft I noticed that all the ship's senior officers were gathered amidships by the gangplank, all in their finest 'Class A' uniforms.

A minute later the piercing scream of the bosun's pipe snapped the entire ship to attention and an apparently important woman came aboard with a full salute from all ranks.

Then all filed into the restricted officers saloon after them. I am still most curious who it was. But that whistle piping her aboard will send a chill down your spine like nothing else. I suppose it is rather like a dog whistle, now that I think about it. Poor dogs....

Whoever the mystery woman was, she must have been important. As soon as she was piped aboard, a signalman ran up a special pennant denoting that somebody of stature was on the ship.

Yet, amidst this official visit, the ship was still crawling with visitors coming aboard to admire, to explore, and certainly plenty (usually those by the wheel gazing off through the tangle of rigging) came to dream.

For the dreamers, it worked out nicely because the Cuauhtemoc has two steering stations for people to pose by. The first is just aft of amidships and is the steering position used when under engine power or in close quarters like when entering and leaving harbor. It has an engine telegraph etc and has good forward visibility.

The second steering station is on the fantail at the stern. It is much more traditional, has no engine controls, and provides a view of the sails--important for a cadet instructed to take a 'trick' at the wheel and be damned sure not to backwind the sails! Have you ever seen such a fine piece of luxury furniture?--And this is meant to go to sea!

In fact, even the ship's launches were stunning furniture pieces, beautifully varnished up--even the bronze propeller is all polished to perfection! As a work-boat kind of guy myself, all this seems rather outlandish, but then again, naval discipline was never for me.

But that isn't to say these masterpiece craft were not intended for working. They aren't just show pieces. While I was aboard the crew came and swung out one of the boats for lowering.

A half hour later they were bobbing about, touching up the paintwork on the Cuauhtemoc--and being darned sure not to drip on the launch!

Well, that's the Cuauhtemoc. As ship (bark, actually) of unparalleled spotlessness and military perfection well worthy of its namesake Aztec ruler-god. Indeed, she--and her crew--are a stunning emissary for Mexico.