Shiny varnished, with cream-coloured running and blue cabin deck, the ship lies in the water of the Schlei. The bow is slender and pointed, the stern no less sleek, the mast also an outstanding specimen: In a wide curve, the whip bends towards the sky, as if the designer had once modelled the rig on an enormous bird's wing. This ship, the almost twelve metre long skerry cruiser named "Bremen", is a rare beauty, as is clear from the very first sight, without having sailed a single metre on it.
On board, in the cabin, almost everything is as it was in 1927, when the vessel was launched in Lemwerder by Abeking & Rasmussen. The narrow oval windows, the two portholes towards the bow, underneath the hat rack for the gentlemen, "still the driest place in the ship today", as the owner says. On the starboard side is the small wardrobe, where the smart double-breasted coats probably used to hang. Opposite is the shallow galley locker, which may not be able to conjure up a flambéed saddle of venison from the galley, but it does have everything you need for a short trip under sail.
Archipelago cruiser sentenced to death twice
The saloon with the two berths opens narrowly and sparingly, the visitor sits on blue cushions, moves across varnished floorboards and looks down in amazement. And look down in amazement, because halyards and trimming devices are not routed into the cockpit at the mast or across the deck, but run nicely concealed through the centre of the saloon. Main halyard, jib halyard, cunningham, outhaul: the lines are led to the threshold at the companionway via buoys, blocks and curry cleats. This solution makes the boat look even more minimalist and elegant from the outside, and the owner doesn't even have to stand up to trim and hoist the sails.
This is another reason why this classic could be described as a speciality. In addition, it is almost a hundred years old and has an extremely narrow width of just two metres in relation to its length. There are the two tugboat bollards at the bow and stern, the delicate handrails at the bow and stern. There is all the scent of the old days that this rickety wooden yacht exudes.
Its real speciality, however, is not obvious and is not written anywhere. The "Bremen" has a story to tell - a story that many of the devout onlookers could not even imagine. This skerry cruiser has already risen from the dead twice. The boat weathered through a war, raised a baby, so to speak, and kept an entire family at the tiller for two generations. It is also a ship that has already been to several home ports. It first travelled from the North Sea to the Rhine, then from the Rhine to the Austrian part of Lake Constance, then back north again and finally to the Baltic Sea.
Owner on archipelago cruiser as a baby
Without question, a ship that has lived; a ship that is still alive and well. It cruises and sails and is actually loved so much by its owner that he says: "I can never give the boat away." Wearing light-coloured boat shoes and a blue T-shirt, Jan Kochen sits in the cockpit and adds: "The boat is a part of me. As soon as I'm on board, I smell my own history, then I smell primordial soup." Kochen, his hair slightly dishevelled, takes a step down the companionway, sits down and points upwards under the white cabin ceiling. A small round opening can be seen, through which the chains from the hot eyes were once passed when craning.
He says he was already hanging up there as an infant. Cooking rocked in a baby basket under the cabin ceiling when his parents used to sail. He was not even six months old when he could already smell the varnish, the linseed oil of this cruiser. And dangled in the swell.
Today, Jan Kochen is 58 years old - and since 1961, he has been connected to the "Bremen" for half his life. For him, the boat is a kind of crèche, a sailing nursery and a swaying youth centre: he grew up with this skerry cruiser. He knows every brass screw on board. Every fitting, every floorboard. Of course, he also knows the entire history of the "Bremen", even the history from the days when the cruiser touched the water for the first time - and even his parents were still small children.
The yacht's sinking was not its death sentence
1927 was a comparatively good year, a year almost exactly between the two world wars. While recognised beauties were being launched in Lemwerder - including twelve-deckers designed by Henry Rasmussen - the 30-deck warping cruiser was also built here: for the Weser Yacht Club Bremen. Young people were trained on the ship and sailed tours as far as Helgoland in the 1930s. Rushing through the North Sea waves on such a flat-bottomed boat was a tough job; it must have been wet.
At that time, the ship still had a self-draining cockpit for such trips, a zinc tub specially built into the cockpit. This is how the "Bremen" made its early trips, a white bird that travelled across the Weser and endured many a bad weather day on the North Sea. Until the boat was sold one day: to Düsseldorf.
However, the beautiful skerry suffered her worst storm not on the North Sea, not in the currents of the Rhine, but in the hail of bombs during the Second World War. When Düsseldorf was repeatedly bombed during late raids, shells hit the ship, hits tore the bow and stern apart - until the "Bremen" sank and disappeared into the basin of the marina. The ship lay at depth for six months, half rotting in the water, but the sinking was by no means a death sentence. For one thing: The Allies did not confiscate the sunken ship, they did not - like many other intact German yachts - take it to England as a sailing trophy.
Repair by Abeking & Rasmussen
Jan Kochen keeps looking around the boat as he tells the story. It must seem to him like the backdrop to an old, gloomy black and white film. Düsseldorf in a bombing storm, flames over the Rhine, while his "Bremen" is shot to pieces as it heads for the deep - and he is not even planned.
However, the fact that the ship is still cruising the water today is primarily thanks to the owners at the time. They had the wreck salvaged after the war and brought it back to Lemwerder, where the boat builders at Abeking & Rasmussen repaired it. The bow and stern were rebuilt until, after a long process, the "Bremen" was ready to sail again. The ship was delivered again shortly after the currency reform in 1948 - and because the owners had no money after the war, but did have a car dealership, they paid the 3,000 German marks by giving the shipyard two new DKWs. Swapping two new cars for a freshly restored shipwreck. Even the owners at the time must have known what true love of boats means.
Six years later, Jan Kochen's parents saw the Schärenkreuzer and were able to get hold of it for the family. Prefabricated contracts for used yachts were not yet available at the time, so they drew up a "used car purchase" document. The word "car" was quickly replaced by "boat".
Archipelago cruiser suffers another incident
From then on, the family sailed regularly on the Rhine, took weekend trips and took part in regattas; when their son Jan was born, dangling in the saloon with the baby. Jan Kochen rummages in one of the lockers on board and pulls out the owner's plate from those days on the "Bremen". Wearing shorts and a beret, he crawls out of the foredeck, rummages through a mountain of sails and ropes and holds an old "brass plaque" in his hands. "S. Y. Bremen" is written on it, "30/G32 Düsseldorf". Underneath, engraved: "Annemie Kochen." At the time, the cruiser was registered to his mother, a clear indication that it wasn't just the men in the family who were sailing enthusiasts.
Accordingly, the ship was always sailed seriously, even by the previous owners. The "Bremen" started a total of 50 times in the course of its life at the Rhine Week, winning the Blue Riband seven times as the fastest ship in the regatta. Down in the cabin, Kochen has taken off his headgear and is scratching his hair, and it's hard to tell whether he's tipping his hat to his own boat or whether he's just marvelling at all the stories. Because the next chapter is far from over: The poor "Bremen" soon had to take another hit.
The boat was still moored in Düsseldorf in 1986 when two poplars fell over during a storm and shaved off the bow of the "Bremen". The yacht was once again torn in two, with half the port side literally broken off at the front. A sad sight - but the parents were determined to keep the ship.
Renewed revitalisation
Because they didn't have hull insurance, they had to fork out a lot of money and transported the "Bremen" to Hard on Lake Constance to the Austrian Biatel shipyard. The senior boss had looked at the boat in advance and said: "Mr Kochen, if you really want it, we'll fix it for you." Mr Kochen agreed. The repairs took a year, the hull was re-planked, two layers of wood veneer were added and the new material epoxy was used for the first time. And then the "Bremen" was afloat again - now after its second resurrection.
Over the next few years, the family set about the winter work together. Their son Jan, who is now grown up, keeps coming round to help and is regularly involved on the Rhine; the boat is too beautiful and sails too well. And they are now all far too deeply rooted in its history to ever think about parting with or giving up the yacht. Jan Kochen says: "The boat was and is part of the family."
And since 2000, he, the son, has been responsible for the ship. Naturally, he took it over from his parents when one day, with the best will in the world, they no longer wanted to or were no longer able to. After all, this is his floating pram! His sea-going soapbox! As soon as it was in his hands, he also invested a considerable sum in the upkeep of the "Bremen". The jetties were replaced, a full-length frame frame was installed, making the yacht "stronger than ever", and Kochen had seven stainless steel floor cradles fitted. No frills. It cost a good five-figure sum to refurbish his aged family yacht.
From the Rhine to the Baltic Sea
The sun shines over Arnis on the Schlei, the old lady's new sailing area. In 2001, immediately after taking over the boat, Kochen trailered it northwards, cruised through the Danish South Seas for the first time, sailed in Sweden and travelled 500 nautical miles in one summer. He sits proudly in the cockpit, letting his gaze wander over the details. For example, the sturdy towing bollard on the foredeck. "On the Rhine, it used to be quite normal to wave a hawser at the commercial vessels and shout: 'Hey, will you give me a lift? A few kilometres upstream?" He remembers: "Towed by the big barges, the boat picked up a lot of speed and was often pulled at a good twelve knots, well above hull speed. Yes, yes, you can do that, even if the boat produces a mighty stern wave."
The Baltic Sea now glistens in front of the bow of the "Bremen". Kochen sets sail again this afternoon, gliding out for a round on the Schlei. The boat leans slightly, gracefully, it immediately picks up speed, the skipper with his hat leans comfortably to leeward and guides the tiller.
Marconi rig exudes rare elegance
The history of the skerry cruiser "Bremen" is not only a long one, but also a beautiful one. This is certainly also due to her appearance - an ordinary run-of-the-mill boat would probably not have experienced so much effort and love. What ultimately makes this appearance so special is one feature that has remained unchanged over the years: the striking "Marconi rig" - her extremely strongly curved whip mast, formerly a spectacular successor to the steep gaff.
Guglielmo Marconi, a radio telegraphy engineer, came up with the idea of a single, upright mast, strongly curved and braced with just three wires. And Marconi modelled it on nature, on nothing other than an eagle's wing. It looks extremely impressive. Today, it is no longer the last word in wisdom, but it still exudes a rare elegance. The "Bremen" sails along as if propelled by a wing. Almost angelic - and simply above earthly catastrophes.
This article first appeared in YACHT issue 20/2019 and has been revised for this online version.
