The spirits of Honfleur

There is a stark contrast between the pier of Honfleur and the place itself. Opposite Le Havre on the southern bank of the river Seine estuary, it is everything but pretty, grey concrete and steely constructions, functional. But there is a red carpet for us laid out by the port authorities, like we are movie stars arriving for a gala. Nice touch. And there is a nice sunrise in the East, just under the enormous bridge that spans the Seine mouth. If you follow the sun you'll be ending up in Paris, but that's not where we want to be. Our destination is just a 20 minutes walk away - Honfleur, pearl of the Normandy. And a true pearl it is: From the distance it seems like many narrow houses huddled together amidst green hills, and if you get closer, cross the old rusty flood gate, walk around the marina and the fishing harbor, this first impression proves to be just right. The buildings could easily be taken from a pirate movie, old, so very old they seem, in the most charming possible way, the wooden beams bent under the centuries, causing the facades to lean into the alleys. On the other side of the harbor basin a completely different aspect: Here the houses seem to have had something in their food to make them grow taller, without letting them get wider at the bottom. They look ridiculously narrow, and you can't help getting the image of people walking into their rooms and walking out again - backwards...

It's Easter Sunday, and to everybody's surprise all the shops are open. Of course there is a throng in all the streets, in front of some delicacy parlors there are even people queueing for pastry or meat or the unrivaled specialty of Honfleur - the Calvados, distilled from apples and mighty stron. Any year of this famous stuff is available, any price tag to be found.

Those who are rather inclined to turn to different spirits were welcomed in the beautiful church of Sainte Catherine that had been erected from the only available building material after the 100-year war - wood, ship's wood. So the similarity with a seagoing vessel is not just coincidence. The place breathes a very particular animus, even on a normal day. Today, however, is Easter Sunday and the church is packed for the service, people singing devoutly, incense hanging in the air, pierced by the colorful light from the stained windows.

The church empties quickly after the mass, and this is the moment when you start to feel the place. There is something about it, like you are sending your thoughts from there to wherever you want them to be. Energy, coming from a building. 

Outside, one is immediately caught in the throng again, the constant drizzle bringing out many umbrellas, not making maneuvering much easier. But anyway, it is time to return to the ship, bags full of souvenirs or Calvados.

In low visibility we continue our cruise, ship's horn sounding regularly to make ourselves heard. 

Darkness enshrouds us on our passage out of the British Channel, and in the evening our piano player Ralf entertains the crowd with a live musical quiz which was greatly accepted by all.

A Pirate's life for me

And here's the problem, folks: On a day like this, with two picturesque landings, it is nigh impossible to squeeze all the pictures into the text. There are just too many! So, let me tell the tale of the day first, and then scroll down and enjoy the images. Aaaaaand here we go:

In the haze of the early morning there is a new sound in the ship: The anchor chain is rattling down into the depths of the British Channel. The island of Sark is so small that there is no way for a "big" ship like ours to make pier, so FRAM has to stay at a safe distance. In no time the five boats are in the water - let the tendering begin!

The conditions are perfect, no waves to speak of, so the Polar Cirkel Boat ride is a dry pleasure.

The hidden little cove that we are entering reveals a stairwell onto the bracing wall, no wonder this place was a perfect hideout for pirates in their time. Today, to our great surprise, the sea level is almost reaching the pier, so it is only a small step up. But that is going to change during the day, trust me on that one.

From the tiny tunnel in the rocks some tractor-pulled coaches emerge to bring us up the winding slope into "town". They are the only motorised vehicles on this paradise island. All other transport is horse or bicycle. What-a-bliss!

Once up, many of us change to horse carriages to begin a scenic drive across the island, the more active bunch mounts bikes to be a bit more independent. The others - well, they walk. The island is just under 4km long, so everything is sort of close by, be it the "Window in the Rock", the church, or one of the incredibly lush paths leading anywhere in this forlorn world. It is just perfect for a lonely walk, listening to birds, the waves and the wind.

After a couple of hours everybody resurfaces reluctantly at the pier. The peacefulness of this place has left its mark, we move a little slower and think a little less. A cure for the restless mind.

But our next destination awaits just around the corner, the island with probably the most colorful history in the nearer surroundings - Guernsey. The name alone is mystery, containing Norse elements ("Island")and unknown ones. Populated since the Neolithic times, it was first a target, then a stronghold for pirates, a battleground during the 100-year war, and several wars to follow, including WWII, of course. Today it is a hub for the Channel Island tourism and a shopping paradise, since there is no such thing like VAT here.

Again we "have" to take our boats to get across, a scenic ride along the looming Cornet Castle, which guards the entrance. On arrival the buses are waiting and the excursions leave. However, many decide to just stroll in town, see one of the cosy pubs (or two), or - go shopping. There is certainly enough to see.

After a loooong day everybody returns to FRAM and devours the buffet Philipino style, which normally precedes the famous Crew Show. It will take some action to keep people from falling asleep in their seats, after hours and hours of peace, fresh air, and excitement!

Smile and wave!

The first Polar Cirkel Boat ride, and not a drop of water. 

Mind the sea level in the morning

...and later. It's the same staircase!

Through the tunnel to the village

Better than cars

Our new liferaft, tested by Arne and Karin...

The idyllic hideouts in the lush greens near Dixcart Bay 

Dixcart Bay ("Dee-Kaar", like French)

Many caves and pirate holes

Daffodils - it's Easter!

Well, mind your head then...

Window in the rock, made by an artist in the 80s

Rocks and boats, all over the place

The coat of arms of St.Peter Port - written in French

Cornet Castle

The sturdy church of St. Peter Port 

This we call a low tide...

Fram behind Cornet Castle pier

The picturesque port

It's clear people are not mainly hunters...

Bumpy, but not so bumpy

At night, the Bay of Biskay finally awakes and some of us with her. Quite a few hefty shakes and jerks, accompanied by thundering noises. That's our brave ship, ploughing through the waves, needn't worry! Rather let yourself go, your bed's a cradle, and enjoy the rocking!

So the morning greets a sea day with a little more spice, but nonetheless the lectures are well attended. Especially the briefing for tomorrow, since it is going to be a special day - the English Channel Islands are the only place on this trip where we have the chance to use our Polar Cirkel Boats. That calls for instructions on how to get in and out, how to put your life jacket, how not to get your fingers squashed, how not to drop your camera in the water, and so on. You can tell by the silence of the audience that excitement is growing.

But only here and only now, apart from that it is a sea day after all. And so we focus again on two things, relaxing, even if the outer decks are a little windswept - and food. Again. But have a look at these fine dishes and you know why the expedition team has such satisfied grins in their faces.

To help a little with getting bigger, we introduce a surplus delicacy - in the middle of the afternoon the beguiling smell of waffles lures everybody into the observation lounge. Fresh and warm they are, worth a sin! 

Oh, and not to forget the preparation for Easter! Many hands handle eggs and paint throughout the day, falling back into childhood days. Two days to go, time is speeding up.

Night has fallen, the sea calmed down, indicating the entrance of the English Channel. So off to bed, we're going to have an early start tomorrow!

Call in Burdigala

It is still dark when FRAM reaches the pier of Bordeaux, the very, very old wine and intellectual (is there a connection?) capital of France. Evidence of this settlement reaches as far back as to the 3rd century BC, and ever since there were the Celts, the Romans, the Franconians, the Goths, the Normands and - very briefly - the Maures. The main reason was without a doubt the very convenient strategic location next to the river Garonne; due to its connection to the Gironde Estuary the changing of the tides is to be felt drastically here, the water is bubbling and foaming one way in the morning, and a couple of hours later foaming and bubbling just in the opposite direction. Boats can ride whatever way with hardly any effort. Well, we are more or less independent, only the lines have to be nice and tight here at the Port de la Lune, the moon harbor, named after the crescent-shaped river bend. As we lower the gangway, we are immediately the focus of interest of the Bordelais (as they are called). No wonder, for we are parked smack in the city centre, quite a sight for sore eyes. At sunrise the ship is cleared and the two excursions can leave. Of course they have to do with wine, the most prestigious vineyards of the world await! While one party explores the city centre, ending in a wine cellar, the longer one heads out into the areas of St. Emilion and Pomérol - ending in a wine cellar. It is kind of inevitable here, and many a good bottle is brought back to the ship, from Bordeaux Supérieur to even a Chateau Margaux, a real treat for rare house guests.

But you do not have to participate in an organized tour to enjoy this city, a walk through the old quarters with their stunning architecture from romanic to baroque style is certainly worth your time. The streets are lined with cosy little cafés, and even the weather is playing game. So everybody is thoroughly enjoying the hours, and only before we leave the clouds are rolling in. Lines are being cast and we are on our way - against the current.