Big dreams of an adventourous voyage burst a couple of weeks ago when the sailing ship Svartlöga went down into the English canal due to a sudden falling wind. A dangerous and dramatic experience where the crew, including my father, had to leave the sinking ship in open waters and swim in the ocean to their rescue fleet. Thank goodness, everyone was saved!
It was terrible Svartklöga went down. It had been a catastropy if the crew had gone down too. I’m sorry for the loss of ship and stuff – but deeply grateful everyone is alive and unharmed! That my dad exists and still has his time here on earth!
Thank you, thank you, thank you!
Thank you to the universe, to the destiny, to King Neptune, the Dutch Coast Guard/ Rescue Service, to God – and who else has been involved. I happily include all high forces and powers in my thank you!
Everyone’s safely back home in Denmark now – along with various bits and pieces of wreckage. Some thing’re still missing. Some are total damaged. Something can be washed, dried, rescued. We have busy days here – almost sleeping with the boots on.
There is also much to be done on the mental and psychological level: the whole process of understanding the almost incomprehensible shipwreck. What happened? How could this big and strong sailing ship go down? It’s still hard to understand…
Svartlöga is brought to surface and out of the water by now – awaits her further destiny. Hull, rigging, engine, all electrical installations are damaged – by the actual shipwreck, by scratching the bottom of the ocean for one week – and when the crane pulled her up and out of the water.
Fortunately the old sailor, my dad, is a cool guy. Temporarily accommodated here on G13 he’s working to get her identity back – literally – and on all levels.
The other day there we attended a meeting for the sailors and friends of Svartlöga (both those who were on board at the shipwreck – and those who’d join later on the route). A new meeting will be held for anyone interested in visions, finances and a possible future for the wreck.
I’m just a spectator here from the sidelines – and of course, a practical assistant (sparring partner and restaurator) for my father and his stuff.
In between we collect the fallen apples, press juice and bake pies. It is autumn and time for harvest. What richness. The most beautiful apples sprinkle from my tree. 40 a day – at least.