Column: Sailors’ friendship – What remains when one of them leaves the ship?

People don’t usually enjoy going to funeral services. But I always say that these services aren’t held for the deceased, but for their loved ones. The presence of each and every person shows just how much the deceased was cherished. Just like today. A funeral service in Eckernförde. A long-standing sailing friend of my husband’s. People are dressed in black, behave with decorum, sing along obediently to all the hymns and recite the Lord’s Prayer. The vicar speaks in the highest terms of Hans. He was beyond reproach; with his calm, level-headed manner, he was always there for everyone. Especially when sailing.

I do know, however, that he was also a bit of a scatterbrain. For instance, back in 1984, Hans once dropped an anchor without securing the line to the boat. Or, after three beers, he’d often mix up starboard and port. There are quite a few stories like that. Actually, I would have liked it if one of them had been shared here. That sort of thing lightens the atmosphere. But others might not see it that way.

On we go. In his sermon, the vicar describes Hans as a good husband and says that he fulfilled his wife Grete’s every wish. “Every wish is a good one,” my husband whispers to me. “He did everything for Grete. He even brought her coffee in bed every morning and all that sort of thing.” – “Shhh.” – “It’s true, though. Besides, he …” – “Shhh!” Discretion has never been his strong point. Besides, he really ought to take a leaf out of his sailing mate Hans’s book.

At the wake, the big ‘Do you remember?’ begins

At some point we’ll sing the last song, get up, and then head to a pub by the harbour. Serious-looking staff welcome us there and pour us ‘Tote Tanten’. “Calm and collected,” says York, grinning. “Flawless. Do you remember ‘Gotland Runt’? When Hans had been on the skids and we managed to do everything on our own, even though he’d navigated so badly, but of course still thought he knew best?” The group nods in unison and there’s a chorus of “hahaha” and “hohoho”. Sandwiches are served.

Erwin looks at the rolls. “Hans made these especially, that idiot,” he says. I furrow my brow. What’s so bad about filled rolls? “He knew full well that I love minced pork with onions.” Now Erwin has tears in his eyes. “And he knew full well that a generous helping of onions is absolutely essential for me. Now look at these rolls.” His lower lip trembles. The rolls really are generously filled. “Oh Hans,” says Erwin. “Alde Mütz! I won’t forget you!” Now even I’m getting teary-eyed. Everyone’s looking. “But no Gouda with gherkins.” Ludwig. “Well, we weren’t exactly the best of friends. At least there’s some Camembert too.”

“Just because he once stole that Karina from you. That was in Sandhamn, when we were out and about on the ‘Forever Together’.’ – ‘Her name was Kaja. And that was in Mariehamn.’ Beer arrives in large glasses. We clink glasses. And then it kicks off with ‘Do you remember…?’ Of course, ‘Do you remember…?’ has its place. But it’s a bit of a drag for people who weren’t there when the events in question took place. In this case, that included all the women of the ‘Do-you-remember’ storytellers. But we’re used to a bit of a hard time.

Now all the lads are sitting together, hooting with laughter at the fact that Manni once crashed into the mast whilst flying a Spi. They also cackle at the memory involving a certain Carlotta and a Jacqueline, whom they ‘made happy’ in France … well … you know. “Grete and Hans were already a couple back then!” shouts Norbi, who, as I know from stories, is the most indiscreet person you can imagine. Right now, he’s certainly living up to that reputation. But then, as if out of nowhere, Grete says: “You’ve got to tell it properly, Norbi. Namely, that we had a bit of a fling there too.” Norbi turns red. “But only briefly.” Oh dear.

“Ansgar, round of aquavit for everyone!” Grete demands, slamming her hand on the table. “I want us to raise a glass to my husband!” Everyone cheers. Grete really is a cool character. Then Ansgar arrives with the spirits. “Do you remember that one waitress in Enkhuizen, where we were all together, the one who just tossed the fried plaice at us? And who then joined us for a drink later!” – “Ansgar, another round!” And do you remember this and do you remember that.

A bond of friendship amongst sailors that has endured for decades

“Oh, Hans would have loved that!” someone says. “It’s a shame he’s not here to see it.” They raise their glasses: “Here’s to Hans! May you rest in peace!”

“Do you remember when we were all wearing those red outfits and walked hand in hand across the street?” says Bernward. “We always stuck together, even on land!”

“Oh yes!” Everyone nods and smiles a little wistfully. “Those were great times. When we cut the toothbrushes to save weight!”

“That’s right! That was Hans’s idea!”

“Good old Hans!”

Now they’re all very quiet, staring at the tabletop, and suddenly I sense that there’s still a very strong bond between them and a kind of love that must have grown out of sailing. It’s lovely to see the lads like this, even when they’re sad. Memories seem to bind them together, for ever and ever. Living together on a boat like that can be very challenging, after all. But they always managed to pull it off together.

Walter sighs. “Or when Hans was hanging up in the mast to fix the wind vane – we were in a force seven gale!” – “No, nine!” – “Nonsense, eleven!” – “Rubbish, it was dead calm.”

“Anyway, it was always absolutely brilliant being out and about; every single trip with you lot was an event, lads!” calls Per.

Then they huddle even closer together, though that’s hardly possible any more. Beer and schnapps are served once again. They raise their glasses for the twelfth time. “Here’s to Hans! All the best on your final long-distance trip!”

When sailing mates become brothers

Then they look at one another – the old mates, those who are still here. They reminisce about the good old days, when they were young and grew older together. For whom sailing was – and still is – their reason for living.

Yes. Memorial services have their good points too. You raise your glasses, you reflect, and you’re grateful for what has been. And you hope that this isn’t the end of it all. That you can stay here a little longer, with the colleagues who have become like brothers over the decades. And when another one leaves, we simply draw even closer together. And we remember just how wonderful it all was!

Book recommendations

Wave crests combines sailing experiences on the Baltic Sea and the Skagerrak with personal reflections on life. Menso Heyl recounts night-time voyages, anchorage spots and encounters in harbours that lead to friendships.

Sailing season brings together Wilfried Erdmann’s travelogues, memories and reflections from more than four decades on the water. The spectrum ranges from short trips to long sea voyages, from dinghy sailing and charter sailing to storm sailing. The book illustrates just how closely personal life stories and sailing can be intertwined – and why experiences shared with friends and crew have an impact that extends far beyond a single sailing trip.

​Some crews share not just sailing trips, but their whole lives. What has kept your longest-standing sailing friendship going over all these years? Tell us about it in the comments.