During the winter of 2007-08, HAVHINGSTEN FRA GLENDALOUGH was on exhibit at a historical museum in Dublin, Ireland. During preparations, she was moored at Custom House Quay, whence she departed amid much fanfare in a pouring rain.
While awaiting fair winds, the ship often came into port. Here she lies at Wicklow, Ireland, where she stopped for several days.
In port, the crew found accommodations where they could; here, in Torquay, England, a vacant storefront the author called “the sardine can” provided tight quarters.
The ship had a warm greeting in Portsmouth, England, where the crew took advantage of the opportunity to visit HMS VICTORY, the archaeological remains of Henry VIII’s MARY ROSE, the iron-sheathed HMS WARRIOR, and numerous pubs.
Question No. 1 in port always addressed the toilet facilities—a glorified bucket. Here, Alexander Grønbech demonstrates the effectiveness of the privacy screening. Note the bottles of hand sanitizer and soap.
In Lowestoft, England, the crew went through timed exercises in lowering the mast, an all-hands project.
Puk Faxe Sabinsky shows an individual strategy for rest.
In fair weather, it was possible to sleep without blankets or a rain cover.
The “quiet ship” period lasted until well in the late morning, giving the off-watch a chance to sleep—so long as there wasn’t necessary work to do.
The first landfall in Denmark—home waters for the vast majority of the crew—was at Glyngøre, where huge crowds met the ship and the crew were treated to fresh oysters and champagne.
An impromptu birthday celebration, with cake and a unique display of candles.
A wholesome playfulness prevailed among the crew. Here, Signe Meling and Lasse Rahn line up little plastic cars, which started off—occasionally—when the ship heeled. An inch or two of movement was cause for joy, a relief to boredom on a long tack.
After entering the ship’s own Roskilde Fjord—home not far away—and with little wind, the crew were allowed to take of their life jackets. Until then, they could only remove life jackets when rowing. On this hot day, many went for a swim.
With the bilges emptied for cleaning, the 7 tons of stone ballast were exposed. The floorboards between deckbeams are removed for access; the planks visibler here are for below-deck stowage.
The stemhead windvane is a copy of a historical find; however, it didn’t appear to work terribly well as a practical matter.
The red-painted “fiske,” or fish, is a heavy mast partner, almost a sculpture, that is mortised over the thwarts. It has a slot cut through its widest part to allow the mast to be lowered; a heavy oak block mortised into its top locks the mast in place once it’s up.
To create a midship sleeping platform, oars are laid out over the thwarts and lashed down.
A plain wooden handle on a sling for the liferafts was given an artistic touch. No one seems to know who carved it.
After a storm, any way that could be found to dry clothing was immediately put to use.
In the aftership, someone found a way to decorate.
With a crew of 62 in a 98’ open boat, people quickly learn to accommodate one another.
David Murphy of Ireland scrapes sludge from the bilges. The whole crew participated in cleanup, once in Lowestoft, England, and once more a day before entering the final destination: Roskilde’s harbor.
The voyage was first and foremost a scientific experiment. Here, boatbuilder Søren Nielsen notes measurements of wear in the halyard block sheave. The bucket at right contains tallow, used as a lubricant on blocks and hemp lines and also as a sealant. The ship had modern navigational equipment and a modern galley, but otherwise was true to its period; the original ship is believed to have been launched in Dublin in 1042.
After two days nonstop through the North Sea, rest and drying out rain-soaked gear took priority. The crew often camped ashore in tents carried aboard for the purpose.
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