STANDING TALL by Jean Hartley

I pull my blue knit scarf up around my ears and breathe into the wool to create a little warmth. Its August 2007 and I am serving my midnight to 4 am watch duty on the bridge of the Tall Ship Lord Nelson in the middle of the North Sea. A pale yellow moon casts a path of shimmering silver on the surface of the water. My imagination prompts me to be on the lookout for submarine periscopes surfacing and the telltale line of water disturbance as torpedoes rush to their mark.

There were no submarines, but many large container ships, barges and oil carriers underway for foreign ports at 2 a.m. I had never experienced the calming serenity of the open sea. I had never felt the responsibility for a ship and its 40 passengers. Small though my part may be, I felt like a nanny protecting the sleeping children below. The feeling was good.

How did I come to fly alone 8,804 miles from Kona, Hawaii to London to join an untried venture with 40 strangers? Why risk the distance and expense for seven days that could be too difficult and scary? I remind myself that I had already done the “difficult and scary.” I had traveled as a disabled adult to 32 countries, the biggest challenge being six trips to Africa from 2000 to 2007. The “scary” was tested by experiencing the Ropes course zip line in Salem, Oregon in the summer of 2006. That day I traveled 35 miles per hour over the tree tops hooked to a cable, survived the Giant Swing with my heart in my mouth and discovered that I was valued for who I am regardless of the body package I have worn since 1941 when polio stole the use of my legs.

I was hungry for more, but where? I Googled “adventures for disabled” on my computer and discovered a long list of products, travel agents and opportunities far too gentle for my taste. I wanted a Grand Canyon white water rafting trip with level #4 excitement. I found an entry which sounded romantic and daring; “Jubilee Sailing Trust offers the unique experience crewing a tall ship regardless of physical ability. ”Two fully accessible three-masted ships, Lord Nelson and Tenacious were designed to take on disabled persons as 50% of their crew, the only two ships in the world with this single purpose. Since her maiden voyage in 1986, Lord Nelson has taken over 9,000 people with disabilities to sea. What attracted me the most was their goal to integrate disabled and able-bodied into a hands-on crew sailing a Tall Ship on open waters. Yes, this was a level #4!

I selected a seven day voyage on Lord Nelson leaving from London and returning to the historic port of Chatham, Kent in the southeast of England. On August 26th. I stood at the quayside at Canary Wharf in central London. I was met at the gangway by Medical Purser, Rachel Denton, who has made ten journeys on the Tall Ships, on her holiday time. She showed me my sleeping alcove (a curtained cubby with two bunks and storage space). Rachel explained how the “differently abled” are accommodated: four self-operated lifts which make all decks accessible, adapted bathrooms (known as heads on board), braille signing on railings, non-slip decking and extra wide doors. Although she has her medical kit at the ready, Rachel’s medicine is encouragement which she freely dispensed.

The new voyagers made their way up the gangway, an interesting parade of wheelchairs, canes and nervous smiles. Some arrived alone, others with their buddies. I’m the only “Yank” aboard and we soon compared our different uses of the English language. This trip made the 50th sailing for one man struck with meningitis in his twenties. Aside from the wheelchairs users, I wondered who is disabled? And what difference did it make? My old attitudes were already being challenged.

Sitting on a ring of rope in the bow, Captain Simon Catterson told me in his distinctive Scottish accent, “Jean, I defy anyone to come on one of our trips and not have it change their attitude toward people with disabilities.” Capt. Simon, an officer in the Royal Navy for ten years, explained that Lord Nelson and Tenacious take on a crew of about 40 per trip, nine of whom are salaried, professional seamen. Both ships do voyages in the British Isles, however the winter season finds Lord Nelson in the Canary islands off the coast of North Africa and Tenacious in the Caribbean.

My immediate contact was my watch-leader, Welshman David Tombs, who guided his group of eight in the daily routine of the ship in tasks that duplicate those of a working naval vessel. We were not drinking tea in deck chairs. This was not a sissy cruise. We all worked the ropes to set the sails and those who are able, climbed the ratlines to furl or unfurl the large square sails. One young blind man confidently ascended the rope ladder unassisted to work the main sail. After breakfast everyone joined in for “happy hour” where we swabbed the decks (and the toilets and the galley and every inch of the 180-foot ship) every day. I got to polish the big brass bell on the bridge or assist Cook David Stanley peeling onions.

Cook David turned out three top quality meals a day in his small galley. David served on the Queen Elizabeth II’s around-the-world voyage in 1986 and has spent 28 years at sea. He could have been the most popular person aboard as there was always a snack left out for the midnight watch. Morning and afternoon “smokos” were the highlights of the day; tea and biscuits on deck and a smoke for those who do. David told me, ”I like to see people do things that they usually don’t do.” He can plate 40 meals at record speed with a Brit joke, a strange little tune and a unique dance step.

In addition to ship maintenance, sail work aloft, safety procedures and evacuation drills, Watch leader David showed us the radar instruments in the chart room. We each took a turn at the helm on the bridge. For our blind voyagers, the directional settings for the wheel were computer -generated voice signals which allowed the sailor to hold or alter the course. What a thrill to be at the wheel guiding the ship through the North Sea - waters of significance during World War II, waters patrolled and protected by the Royal Navy from enemy infiltration of Britain. I was sitting in a place of history.

David is a retired social worker who has crewed 16 trips in 12 years. He agrees with the philosophy of Jubilee Trust, ‘include, not exclude” as he encouraged our watch to try everything , even if we barely pull the ropes or just manage to stay upright on the moving deck. I depended on the safety of my harness with its clip attachment for balance. I couldn’t be on the rope line or climb aloft, but I sure could peel onions and do Brasso.

Our 359- nautical mile journey took us from London east on the Thames River, through the locks and then farewell to the town of Margate, the last outpost on the mainland. We sailed across the North Sea to dock in Middleburgh, Holland where we enjoyed an overnight in calm waters. That evening we were given shore leave to enjoy the village. Here my heart was sorely tested. Because my polio was barely noticeable as a young adult, I had often “passed.” Because denial allowed me to see myself as “normal”, I did not want to be associated with “crippled people.” This corrosive attitude continued through adulthood and raised its ugly head in Middleburgh. Because our destination coffee shops were far and difficult to find, 12 of us formed a parade of wheelchairs, blind leaning on the arms of friends, with the slow ones with halting steps taking up the rear. I was in the middle of my worst nightmare: being seen as “crippled” in public. For a moment I was sucked into the horror of the scene. I could either laugh or cry. God gave me the grace to laugh. That corrosive corner of my heart was healed - I would not have to bear that burden again.

We were all encouraged to go aloft to the best of our abilities. Some could do “assisted climbs”, ascending the ratlines with an experienced member of the crew alongside, but my leg braces did not let me do that. Three of us viewed the world from the “tops”, a platform 40-foot up the main mast. Secured in a wheelchair, I was hoisted up to a platform by a pulley. Just in case someone manning the ropes below got distracted, I called upon attending angels as a back-up plan. It was peaceful aloft, perhaps the same serenity mountain climbers enjoy when they summit.

The most astonishing wheelchair ascent was a young man with cerebral palsy I shall call Rick. His wheelchair is his home. His limited speech is helped along with a unique communication device; a screen of 120 visual symbols which he activates with pressure on his headrest. His caregiver told me that the ship’s special equipment allowed Rick to try what others did. A rope could not be gripped, but it could slide between his fingers. Rick was part of the team working the rope line, Rick was helped to sail the ship, Rick’s world expanded. Rick proved the ethos of Jubilee Sailing Trust, ”To provide a Tall Ship sailing experience for everyone irrespective of age, sex, physical ability or sailing experience.”

The other wheelchair climber was a feisty Londoner named Paul. Paul enjoyed an exciting career as an international tour manager for Motown Record stars such as Stevie Wonder, Pink Floyd, the Beatles and others. Multiple Sclerosis changed that glamorous life style at the age of 45. “I can do everything on the ship that I can do at home” Paul was everywhere; doing deck work, his four hour watch on the bridge and entertaining us with his sharp wit and sophisticated banter during evenings in the lounge. “This is my first journey, but it won’t be my last. I’m already planning for the Caribbean run in the winter of 2008”

Among our five blind or partially sighted crew was a gifted and witty tall fellow called Sid who was doing his 20th Tall Ships journey. He moved about the ship easily using sensory navigation, braille guides and an occasional helping arm. Sid is a talented mimic with a repertoire of 15 geographical dialects. At breakfast England’s new Prime Minister, Gordon Brown, surprised us by calling for more coffee, only to be answered with the Texas drawl of George Bush. Sid has arranged his next sail for Christmas 2007 in the Canary Islands.

Because of wind direction, we tacked north on our return to the port city of Chatham in England. A few days later Lord Nelson would take on another crew of the able-bodied and disabled bound for new ports of call. Disembarking in Chatham harbor the first of September was a sad affair. We had lived so close, laughed so much and come to admire each other’s “personal best.” I will long remember the spirited laughter coming from the galley, the gentle rocking of the ship at night as I settled into my bunk, and the rowdy crowd at breakfast (along with the Prime Minister). But most of all I cherish my acceptance of my disabled self.

The body may not work too well, but the heart is not “disabled.” My attitude had shifted and my spirit set free. I left my heart up on the bridge at 3 a.m., feeling very tall and very strong.