Welcome Aboard The CG Barque Eagle
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Click on chart for Eagle's current position
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305 miles northeast of St. John's, Newfoundland
50o 13.6' N 45o 59.1' W
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The Barque Eagle departs Canada and begins
a sixteen day crossing of the Atlantic Ocean.
The underway routine begins right away with cadet training in the afternoon and general emergency drills.
All photos are credited: U.S. Coast Guard photograph by Petty Officer Second Class Andrea Rask.
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May 19, 2005
The Coast Guard Barque Eagle, homeported in New London, Conn.
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Captain's Log by 1/c Morgan Roy for Capt. E. J. Shaw
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The day of anticipation has finally arrived. Leaving Canada and making our way across the Atlantic Ocean has been on the top of everyone’s thoughts since first hearing they would be sailing on Eagle summer 2005. Before leaving dry land once again, everyone on the Barque enjoyed the stay in Canada very much. The “Newfies,” as the Newfoundlander’s call themselves, were very friendly and made everyone feel welcome. Too many of our shipmates spent their liberty in the hospital either as patients or attendants after Friday's accident. We were relieved that three flew back to the Academy before we sailed and it looks like the remaining two will be home tomorrow. Other crew and cadets enjoyed hiking on the many trails that lead to centuries-old light houses, rocky cliffs shearing down to the cold North Atlantic, and quaint fishing villages. Others toured the Canadian Coast Guard station, shopped at local stores, and enjoyed the nightlife that was abundant in the city. All in all, with the quality of health care available and the hospitality of the citizenry, it was a great first port call for everyone on board, and a place many say they would like to return to because of the friendliness of the locals and appeal of the land.
As we are all sailors onboard, we do not feel quite right staying on land for too long, so out to the ocean we must go. This time a trans-Atlantic voyage was calling, the first for most on board. Morale was high and visibility was low as the Eagle made it through the narrows of St. John’s Harbor, a slender 91-meter exit lined with steep cliffs on either side. Although the seas were calm, the fog remained thick for most of the day. The underway routine continued right away with cadet training in the afternoon and general emergency drills.
Everyone on board seems very excited about the crossing. These next 16 days should be a great learning experience about everything from sailing a square-rigger to all of your shipmate’s preference on eggs (as we may eventually run out of things to talk about)! All we can hope for is for favorable winds and seas so we can sail all the way to Bremerhaven, Germany. Until then, everyone is concentrated on the training to come in the next few weeks, the experience of it all, and doing it all safely.
18 May 05 by 3/c Kirsten K. Laning
Well, underway again to test our sailing skills as well as our patience to remain stuck in a tin can for two weeks with half our class. Oh, the stories we will have to tell! Actually, it cracks
The fourth class cadets ready their new pins for the long awaited promotion to third class.
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me up to see the random things we think up to amuse ourselves; there are plenty of times you hear someone say something like, “You know you have been at the Academy for too long when you (fill in the blank with anything a normal civilian is clueless about).” But I can guarantee that every one of us is looking down that tunnel and seeing the bright lights of Germany at the end of it. Our first port call in Newfoundland has shown us a good time and the frigid lifestyle of the Newfies. Whether we’d like to admit it or not, I believe these next two weeks will change our lives forever. For some of us, the physical challenge of dealing with the cold and working in it will alter our perceptions on life. For others, dealing with the fact that we will be spending two weeks of our lives with only two feet of personal space will most certainly be a test of our mental states. But either way, this is something we will never forget and something we should make the best of because we may never get this opportunity again.
18 May 05 by 3/c Soren J. Rose
Cmdr. Andrea Marcille pins new insignia on now 1/c Ryan Maca.
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The last few days have been amazing for all of us. Everyone was able to relax and enjoy the break from sailing. I personally walked through most of the city exploring and experiencing everything I could. What made St. John's a great port call for me was spending time with my closest friends outside of the Academy environment.
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(L to R)1/c Morgan Roy and 1/c Jeff West are promoted by Lt.j.g. Amanda Ausfeld.
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As soon as we left the narrow harbor entrance, we were enveloped in a thick blanket of fog further reinforcing the knowledge that we are on our own for the upcoming leg of our trip. After some refresher briefs and a few quiet waves, things have settled back into routine for us. No one has gotten sick yet; luckily the seas have been very calm today. Whoever thought of placing a medicated sticker behind the ear for seasickness should win a Nobel Prize. It has spared some of my shipmates and especially me from spending quality time on the lee side of the ship.
Tonight, as we motor away from Newfoundland, we are all resting and preparing for the hard work and new challenges that await us tomorrow. This is a trip of a lifetime, and though it isn’t exactly a Carnival Cruise, it will be one we remember for the rest of our lives.
18 May 05 by 3/c Jadus D. Hay
Capt. Eric Shaw pins the long anticipated red shields on 3/c Danielle Verna.
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It’s pretty amazing to think that this is the last time I’ll see land for the next two and a half weeks. I never dreamed that one day I would be pulling out in a ship to cross the Atlantic. I mean, this is the stuff I read about in elementary school, where great explorers led their crews into the unknown seeking fame and fortune. I remember thinking how awful it must have been to be stuck on a ship that long with no idea where you were going or if you would ever see your home again. And yet here I am, sitting on a tall ship, crossing the same ocean, albeit with an engine if the wind dies down and a dozen or so satellites to tell me where I am.
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(L to R)Cmdr. Andrea Marcille and Lt.j.g Tahni Holmes help ensure the safety of cadets and crew aloft during sail stations.
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St. John’s was a great conclusion to the first leg of our journey. We were promoted to third class just before stepping off the ship, and the privileges that come with it were awesome. We were actually trusted enough to run the streets in regular clothes and given free reign over how to spend our time ashore. I got to see the most eastern point on the North American continent. I got to roam around the town until three in the morning with my friends. And I got to meet a whole bunch of interesting locals. Part of me is a little glad that we’re leaving a little early though; another couple days here and I’d be broke. The exchange rate is pretty good here, but the taxes are ridiculous; over double what I had to pay back home.
Well, Eagle has given me a lot of great experiences so far, and I have no doubt that it will continue to be a great experience.
18 May 05 by 3/c Meredith A. Tate
Today we got underway from St. John’s Newfoundland, headed to Germany. There are mixed feelings about being underway for 2 weeks - but it will definitely be an adventure and an awesome port call once we get to Europe! St. John’s was a lot of fun the past few days - colder than most of us expected - but a really beautiful port with lots of good restaurants, shopping, clubs, and a gorgeous coastline. Everyone really made the most of our few days in Canada and (most importantly) all of our injured classmates are all healing up and in good hands. We miss you! Getting underway this morning started with special sea detail and then we’ve gotten right back on schedule with watches and all. Basically, it was a day of getting back into the routine onboard Eagle - but it was definitely an exciting day back at the Academy! It’s really exciting to think of all our former firsties are now officers and that we’re “officially” third class. I’ve got to head back for a few more hours of watch so I’m going to let 3/c Brown say a few words.
Photo:
Lt.j.g. Ausfeld, Eagle's supply officer for the last two years, finishes her tour aboard Eagle in St. John's. She will be missed by cadets and crew.
18 May 05 by 3/c Rodney A. Brown
(L to R)Fireman Keely Dobbs teaches 3/c Jennifer Louzon how to take readings from the generators.
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Hey y'all, today was another great day on the Eagle. My dad and uncle flew up from Fort Worth, Texas, to see me while we were in St. John’s Newfoundland. I woke up early and left the hotel with my dad and uncle to have breakfast at Tim Horton’s. All three of us knew it would be the last meal I would have with family and, moreover, on dry land. After some short last words and goodbyes I signed in from liberty and donned my uniform. My division was assigned to mooring line 4 for special sea detail as we piloted our way out of St. John’s harbor. When our division was asked for a volunteer to be the stern bearing taker, I quickly raised my hand and volunteered. I felt so proud when my dad and uncle saw me on the fan tail shouting contact bearings into the sound powered phone headset and taking bearings through the alidade. I waved back to my dad and uncle as we departed the port and headed out to sea. I was pleasantly surprised to note how fast I regained my “sea legs.” Though I didn’t get sea sick, my appetite was noticeably curtailed. For the afternoon training period, my division and I learned the Rules of the Road which was taught by my morals and ethics professor, Lt. Cmdr. Bateman. After evening chow, I settled down to continue reading John Steinbeck’s “East of Eden” and take a short nap since my division and I had deck watch from 8 p.m. to midnight. We passed the time by reviewing and learning the qualifications for helmsman and lookout watch stander. All of us here in the Eagle are hoping for safe weather and following seas in the days to come.
15 May 05 by Seaman Sara Johnson
(L to R) 3/c Erik Wyrick and Marcus Vinson stand at attention, awaiting their promotion.
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As I lay in my rack at night and look at pictures of family, friends, and places I left behind, I can't help but wonder about what adventures tomorrow will bring. Let 's face it, out here Murphy's Law is the rule of the sea and S.N.A.F.U. is practically our motto. For example, setting sails at morning sail stations and waiting for that "perfect" wind the weatherman predicted all day only to douse sails that evening. Low and behold, the minute the sails are sea furled...your perfect wind arrives. Every new day on the Barque brings a new story and, much like fishing stories, they get bigger with time. A 20-degree roll turns into a 30, turns into a 40, and by the time the story reaches a sailor's family it has become, "We were this close to capsizing"....and cue the fainting mom.
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Cadets watch machinery technician 3rd class Matthew McCoy take the line to the pin.
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Most people today think of planes, vessels and cars as inanimate objects. However, if you were to ask any old salt, they would tell you that their ship is very much alive. The engine is the heart, the sails her lungs, the bridge her eyes, the whistle her mouth. I believe Captain Shaw says it best with, "She's a happy Barque." A vessel reflects the attitude, morale, and well being of the crew. The Barque is a part of all who sail on her and we are a part of her. Over the years the crew has shed enough sweat, blood, and tears over the Barque to be related to her. Sure, some may find it odd to speak of a ship as if it is alive, but when crew and ship form such a co-dependant relationship, she becomes a watchful mother, transporting her crew safely from port to port. The crew in turn brings her to life by keeping the wind in her sails, her eyes open and looking for danger, and by voicing her actions to near by ships.
To end, I simply bid you bon voyage. If you have loved ones on the Barque, I hope this website will provide you a way to keep in touch and for those just interested in the Eagle or sailing in general, may you live vicariously through us via this website. Please, be a good shipmate and join us again.
13 May 05 by 3/c Jesse B. Harms
(L to R) Damage controlman 3rd class Nicholas Arco, Seaman Aaron Brown, and electricians mate 3rd class Robert Kinman haul on the halyard with cadets.
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Four o'clock in the morning came and still no sleep. The violent rocking of the ship kept many of my shipmates and me awake for the duration of the night. Around 4:10 a.m., I gave up on finding dreams and climbed out of my rack to find a labyrinth of books, papers, shoes, jackets, and towels that had been shaken from their stay fasts and hangers and arranged randomly throughout the berthing area. I climbed into my uniform one foot at a time, between the swells that dragged my grip-lacking socks into the bulkheads. Once dressed I made my way to the mess deck brushing aside gear adrift and dodging the objects that swayed across the deck in unison with the mood swings of the North Atlantic. The power enveloped within the deep blue is difficult to understand but sometimes she gives us a little taste of what she has to offer. Unfortunately, today was show and tell.
Cadets' hands are becoming tough and calloused from working Eagle's lines.
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After sucking down my third cup of coffee, I noticed others giving up on their futile attempts at shuteye and gingerly walking about the ship. Around 5:10 a.m., my entire division was up and about, prepared to perform the duties for the day. I volunteered for scullery (dishwashing) because I had not done it before. I went topside and opened up the scullery with 3/c Tori Lusardi finding more of a mess within the compartment. We both felt a little nauseous from movement neither of our bodies were used to. We started scrubbing the unfinished dishes from the previous evening and we were doing fine until I worked my way into the stench of a Salisbury Steak gravy encrusted pan. When I scooped the chunky gray gravy into a bucket, I basically pulled Tori’s trigger and sent her to the side of the ship to replenish the sea with her own special blend of fish food. However, despite her condition she rejoined me in our slippery confinement to finish up before breakfast.
The food service staff mixes up the menu.
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Twenty minutes after breakfast was piped, the scullery was teeming with fresh dirty dishes. The swells knocked many of the dishes to the floor along with Tori and myself. One particular wave set me off-balance to the point that I had to grab Tori for support only to yank her grip loose and send us both crashing some 15 feet across the grease laden deck into the bulkhead. We laughed it off and continued working through the bumps and bruises.
Later that morning Tori was out taking clean dishes to the galley while I sprayed and cycled dishes through the washer. I was taking a tray from someone outside the scullery window when I saw a larger than normal swell behind him. The ship rocked much more violently than before as the wave washed a large volume of sea water over the waist. Surprised by the impact, I threw the tray above my head in conjunction with my loss of balance. My head hit the overhead then my back slammed into the greased deck and slid fast and hard. I attempted to raise my body high enough to avoid slamming into the hatchway frame that rose some six inches off the deck but all I did was line my tailbone up for a clean shot of steel. Then all the spoons, forks, knives, and shards of broken plastic trays I previously fell on came crashing towards me but luckily did not inflict any harm. As I lay in a puddle of dishwashing detergent in confusion as to what just happened, I heard injured shipmates outside the scullery door. When I climbed out to see what I had heard, I saw a lot of injured individuals. Closest to me was one of my classmates with a pair of lacerations on his face that leaked blood into the sea water trapped in the lee scupper. Through all the commotion, order prevailed. There were stretchers on the scene in minutes. Every injured individual had two to three crew members or cadets tending to them moments after the spill. The response was just as awesome as the cause and soon everyone injured was safe in the wardroom.
Eagle moors in St. John's harbor to drop off our injured shipmates.
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The rest of the day was filled with snow flurries and the occasional hail storm. The swells took their time in residing and scullery duty remained a difficult task to complete until one of the head cooks brought us a container of Morton Salt to spread about the deck for traction. It worked wonderfully and we secured from scullery earlier than I had expected. Exhausted, I took my shower and sanitized my disgusting body of products ranging from oatmeal and Salisbury steak gravy to cake batter and fish grease.
That day on the water showed me a new respect for what it meant to be a part of the Coast Guard. We were in seas that might have been 12 to 15 feet, which is nothing in the big picture of the kind of conditions Coast Guard cutters work in on a daily basis. SAR (search and rescue) cases take Coast Guard assets into terrible sea conditions. We’ve all seen "The Perfect Storm" and heard the sea stories. Today was a gentle reminder that these stories are not all tall tales, and showed many of us that what we signed up for is real. I’m just glad that everybody involved in today’s events are going to be okay. This will be a Friday the 13th that I will always remember.
12 May 05 by 3/c Keith A. Blevins
A 1938 photo of Eagle, then called "Horst Wessel," showing the ship in big seas.
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It would be very hard any day to beat yesterday, but for me today most certainly did. First we had duty from 4 to 8 a.m., meaning I was up at three. Duty went well and we went over numerous things for helm/lookout quals. We set a few sails today, all on the foremast, the lower sails on the main, and nothing on the mizzen. To help set the sails I climbed to the royal and where ever else we were needed in the rigging. This was much more terrifying than yesterday. Today everything was wet and we were working with sails that were new and stiff. I can’t emphasize enough how scary climbing wet rigging really is. We climbed to the royal twice, the first time was to put the sail in gear, the second time was to overhaul the sail. The second time was scarier, because the royal yardarm was raised all the way to the top. Once the sails were set, we made about seven knots, but as the wind died down we got progressively slower. Later on in the day we had a damage control drill, during which there was a mock fire in the engine room. During the drill a pod of whales swam about 200 meters off our starboard beam. It was cool when the whole pod would surface at once to get air. In the evening we doused all sails, because the weather was supposed to change. And change it did. While on the topgallant furling the sail, the weather changed drastically. The wind picked up and the mist turned to rain. Getting down wasn’t too bad, but I never feel safe until I am beneath the course sail. I went to my rack early tonight because tomorrow I am a mess cook.
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