Afi and the Tall Ship

“Hey, little one, come upstairs with me and I will show you something special!” My grandfather, Afi, motioned to me to follow him up the stairs to the second story of our house. Then he pointed excitedly to the window in the corner, the one that looked out on the big bay, and we scurried over to see what he wanted to show me. I couldn’t see what it was, so he lifted me up and pointed out to the water.

There it was. The most beautiful ship I’d ever seen, in full sail making it’s way toward the small harbor in Reykjavik, Iceland. “When I was a little boy, I sailed on ships like that,” he explained, a big smile on his face. “Would you like to come down to the harbor with me to see the ship up close and maybe go on board?”

I squealed with excitement. “Can we go NOW?” I was ready to leave in an instant.

“Not so fast, little one!” How could he possibly be so calm? “We have to wait for your father or uncle to come down to drive us down to the harbor. It’s too far for your little legs to walk.” I protested that my legs were quite long enough for that walk. “Besides, I am old and I will get too tired walking that far.”

When my uncle Gumbur (short for Gudmundur) arrived, we were waiting outside ready to go, and climbed into the car. I don’t remember my cousin Sigrun being with him this time. Looking back, I am sure Afi had called my uncle to tell him about the ship and asked if he could drive us down to the harbor. We drove so I could see the ship closer, and waited what seemed like hours --probably no more than about 15 minutes – to see the sailship pull into the harbor.

“I think I can get someone to let us on board,” my uncle suggested. He probably knew the harbormaster. If he didn’t, Afi would. As we pulled into a space right on the dock, we were able to see the ship dock, lower its sails and tie up. I could hardly contain myself, I was so excited. “Maybe we should stay in the car,” my uncle suggested. “NO!” I wanted to see things even closer. “Then you have to stay right with me and hold on to my hand,” Afi told me sternly.

When the ship was docked and the sailors, all dressed up in their sailing outfits, dragged out the gangplank, I was quite beside myself and more than ready to run up and aboard. “Wait!” My uncle went to talk to someone, pointing over to Afi and me, and came back with a huge smile on his face. “Yes, we can look now.” I don’t remember any of the explanations of what was what, just that I couldn’t see enough of the ship.


This was the start of my love for the tall, wooden sailing ships, a love that has stayed with me to this day, leading me to any place I could see one that was within a reasonable drive. When the tall ships sailed into the San Francisco Bay when the Golden Gate Bridge celebrated its 50th year, I was there to watch. When tall ships sailed into the Boston harbor, years later, I was there too. When in Boston, I also boarded the USS Constitution, permanently berthed in the Charlestown Navy Yards. The following day, I drove down to Plymouth, not far from Cape Cod, to see the recreation of the Mayflower, and board it to ask a million questions.

Another year I drove to Mystic Seaport in Connecticut to feel what a small harbor must have felt like to my grandfather. Got to sail a small catboat, too, which did nothing to quell my love for the BIG sail-ships. One of the ships was a fishing schooner just like the photos that my grandfather had shown me he’d sailed on, and I boarded. It had been used for cod fishing off the Grand Bank near Newfoundland, and even 70 some odd years later, it still had a very clear aroma of the sea and fish.

And, sometime during the next week or so I plan to drive up to Redwood city’s harbor to see the two sailships that are going to be there for a few weeks. I guess I am still reliving the first tall ship I ever saw, and one of my happiest memories. Again and again. Once was NOT enough!