Jan Jepsen
· 31.03.2024
She talks about buying blind. And shock infatuation. And means: buying a yacht after four years on land, obviously not seaworthy, without any trial runs. "Pretty stupid", she says herself, and she should know. Because that's exactly what Kerstin Schaefer, a psychotherapist from Hamburg-Altona, did almost eleven years ago this winter. But she has no regrets. Today, she calls the purchase of her "Niña" one of the most fateful and wonderful decisions of her life.
The first stroke on the Elbe, just a few months after the purchase. It's another one of those northern German summers when the rain flies across even in July. Six months after purchasing the "Niña", Schaefer is behind the wheel of her yacht for the first time. With 5 to 6 Beaufort against, the Elbe current running along, choppy seas, actually adverse conditions, and yet an incredible moment of happiness that makes the owner suddenly cheer loudly and unconventionally in the pouring rain: "Wow, that's awesome!"
"It was simply totally unique and uplifting, almost divine," says Kerstin Schaefer, her eyes still shining today. The moment when she realised that the old wooden yacht wasn't going to get bogged down. On the contrary: the "Niña" ploughed through the water with high motivation, at eight knots over the ground, leaving the stern water gurgling behind her. However, owner Schaefer admits: "It wasn't always the case that I reacted so enthusiastically to this boat."
She still remembers her first encounter in the winter of 2009/10, when she stepped onto the 43-foot-long construction for the first time. She wondered why the hell her partner at the time had dragged her onto this run-down yacht in a dark and cold shipyard in Bremerhaven. The 30-year-old upholstery alone - shocker, let up - in old man's pink. Clear, beautiful, classic crack, a harmonious crack, small deck superstructure, good proportions. A certain relationship to an early Swan could hardly be overlooked. However, a little wider around the hips. A typical hull according to the International Offshore Rule; however, the mahogany transom did not fit the picture.
Their thirst for adventure and love of old wooden yachts (the couple had already sailed 20,000 nautical miles on a small 5.5 sea cruiser from Hatecke at this point) and the impressive history of the "Niña" won them over. And the fact that no major structural changes were ever made to the yacht, which was built in 1972, so that the substance was largely in its original condition. Nevertheless, the ship was anything but seaworthy at the time of purchase. "The entire sail wardrobe was rotten," says Schaefer. During the interior cleaning with water flushing, a leak in the hull in the area of the shaft bracket fastening was noticed, which turned out to be severe damage to the keel.
A shipyard had to be called in. After an accident, the shaft bracket had only been fastened with simple wood screws instead of tie rods through the keel construction. There was no positive connection between the hull and the shaft bracket.
"The first thing we did, however, was to get rid of the old pink upholstery with spak stains," explains Schaefer. "Then we took care of the dull, sometimes multi-coloured wooden surfaces. They were partially disfigured with stickers, signs and emergency cases." Blind glass panes in the cupboards were replaced.
When the electrical distribution box was opened, water dripped towards the new owners. Large parts of the power supply had obviously run via the diesel engine. There was no shore charger on board. Then there was the gas system - anything but confidence-inspiring. "We replaced it with a paraffin cooker, partly out of shock and partly out of conviction. I wouldn't do that today. But I would always buy the boat again."
Kerstin Schaefer shares a love of wooden boats with the first owner Hasso Niejahr, who commissioned the "Niña" as the "Señorita" in the early seventies. Legend has it that one day he was overtaken by a Swan between Sweden and the Åland Islands on his yacht "Fiete 3", which was travelling much higher. This obviously aroused desire. Niejahr wrote a letter to Finland, addressed to Nautor, and wanted to know whether the shipyard would fulfil his wish: to build a Swan out of wood.
But Nautor thankfully declined; the obvious reason was that they were known for high-quality GRP yachts. The Finns didn't even agree to a compromise, at least to design the interior in mahogany instead of teak - a Swan is a Swan is a Swan, and not a kit. Nothing could be done.
Mr Niejahr remained stubborn and wrote a second letter. This time to the USA: to the Nautor house builders Sparkman & Stephens. He asked Olin Stephens personally to please support him in his endeavour. But even he failed with Nautor, but offered as consolation to realise a modified mahogany and stainless steel construction based on the Swan 43 in order to avoid legal problems with Nautor. He recommended two timber shipyards that had licences for S&S designs at the beginning of the 1970s for the construction: Matthiesen & Paulsen in Arnis on the Schlei and Carabela near Barcelona. Carabela was chosen because the German shipyard was reluctant to build a boat of this size at the time, and the exchange rate was in the Spaniards' favour. And the client Niejahr assured the shipyard owner that the yacht would be given a Spanish name if it turned out to be a beautiful ship: "Señorita".
"As far as I know," says Kerstin Schaefer, "the drawings were only used once more for a yacht called 'Carillion', but nothing more can be found about it today." It is probably the other way round, and the "Carillion" was modified somewhat, as older documents suggest. From the widow of the first owner, she knows that shortly after the construction was completed, even the former Spanish King Juan Carlos, now living in exile in Dubai, came on board to marvel as a sailor at what a magnificent ship had been built in his country.
The "Niña" initially sailed for two years in the Mediterranean as the ex-"Señorita" and was later transferred to Kiel. Olin Stephens himself boarded the ship he had designed during a Kiel Week. According to the first owner, he stood at the mast, looked up and was generally delighted. However, the fact that the mahogany hull became tarnished after a short time was less pleasing because the wood used had obviously not been properly seasoned.
On her fourth birthday, the "Niña" was then given a plastic costume - for cosmetic reasons - and sailed long distances for the following years, taking part in the disastrous Fastnet Race of 1979 as a guest ship, out of competition. During a visit to the first owner, who now lives in a retirement home, Schaefer learnt that the barometer was in free fall at the time. They could barely get their oilskins on in time. Standing at the mast, Mrs Niejahr was barely able to communicate with the other sailor when reefing. Nevertheless, the night on the "Señorita" ended without too much trouble, both for the crew and the equipment. The only damage was a torn jib.
The ship was later sold to a sea captain who had a professional connection to Africa and promptly turned the "Señorita" into the "African Queen". Owner Schaefer learnt from a stranger who approached her about the ship that he had once bid for the "African Queen" at an insolvency auction. But that was ultimately a rumour, she says. If it is true, the highest bidder was a real estate agent who sailed the "African Queen" a lot single-handed and preferably in the opposite direction - to northern regions such as Iceland and Greenland. The yacht was then left somewhat neglected on land at the Inselmann shipyard in Bremerhaven.
In the first winter after the purchase, the decision was made to return the ship to its original name, explains Schaefer. "'Niña', I believed, were the words of the previous owner, who mistakenly or deliberately localised the place of construction in Finland." All the formalities were immediately registered and the corresponding lettering ordered. "I'll never forget the moment," says Schaefer, "when everything was done, the four gold letters were ready to be stuck on the neat stern and I discovered this box with the old diversion table from 1982 with the name 'Señorita'. You don't know whether to cry or just laugh."
A small consolation: at least Schaefer was able to reconstruct the history of the ship from this moment onwards and make contact with the wife of the first owner, who affectionately approved of the name debacle with a "Never mind. The main thing is that it's Spanish again". A gift or history.
However, the last remnants of this era extend into the present. Some things still need to be done. "They give an indication of the work for the coming winter," as Schaefer puts it. After all, you still want to sail. Logically, that's what she prefers to do, every free weekend and during the holidays. After a turbulent separation from her partner eight years ago, the boat is now her sole property.
"It was a real stalemate," explains Schaefer. "One had put in more than 900 hours of manual labour, the other a lot of money. And both had an incredible amount of idealism and prospects for the future. But after a seasonal trial as a community of owners, it was clear that their separate paths were irrevocable."
Until the decision, the couple had always sailed as a couple. And Schaefer had not reluctantly come to terms with the position of co-skipper on board. But now there was no way around it: in order to be able to move the ship, she also had to move. With the decision to take over the "Niña", she had inevitably been promoted to skipper. "It was quite a challenge," admits Schaefer. "The giant genoa alone! After all, the ship has more sail area on the wind than my flat in Ottensen." Moreover, skippering is the opposite of what she would do professionally as a psychotherapist: quick, clear announcements on board versus mood and process-orientation in practice.
"Personally, it's often a balancing act! I can't really get out of my skin ..." Of course, she has often considered downsizing. But so far, nothing has caught her eye that could seriously jeopardise her relationship with her beautiful old ship. The "Niña" not only looks good, she also sails unrivalled in her own way. Almost majestic.
Her Spanish one-off Swan, adds the Hamburg native in quieter words, quasi unofficially - because the ship is not officially allowed to be called that. In fact, using the name "Swan" has already earned her a kind of friendly warning from Nautor.
If anything, her "Niña" is a Spanish first-degree relative. "But to be honest, Swan or not, in the end I don't care," assures the owner. After ten years, she has recently become one with the ship. In Schaefer's opinion, the yacht's design was almost perfect, at least for her time, and still impresses her today.
Kerstin Schaefer admits that the "Niña" is now an essential part of her life's dream - a kind of central star. In addition to aesthetics and beauty, the owner emphasises simplicity and functionality. The unique superstructure windows of the "Niña" alone: not only are they bevelled, but from the helmstand in certain positions you can also look through under the large foresail while underway and admire the outside world twice through the refraction.
The water rushes by. With a draught of 2.40 metres and a humped deck, the ship sails quickly, safely and upright, even in wind and waves. The self-steering system is hardly needed, as the Spanish lady stays on course voluntarily when the sails are well adjusted. Below deck, the water laps against the hull is heavier, darker and somehow less agitated than on plastic yachts. "I also really like the smell of wood. Unless I'm cooking delicious food!"
Today, Schaefer organises her trips with different crews. Her long-time friend and sailing partner finds a place on board, as do friends on a ladies' cruise or her friends from the Sparkman & Stephens Association, who are spread across Europe.
Quite often, the harbour evenings with the crews of the neighbouring ships also end in the cockpit of the "Niña". Summing up, the psychotherapist says that she sees her ship as an integrative place for encounters, exchange, communication and harmonious get-togethers - preferably in a secluded little natural harbour somewhere in Denmark. The result of her tours can be found as a public account on Instagram as "Elbseglerin". However, the name turns out to be a packaging hoax or a relic of the former 5.5 KR sea cruiser. What can be admired there is a beautiful Spanish "swan" in the Danish South Sea, which doesn't look out of place, but is fast, safe and on track. And has been for almost 50 years. Too many signs of wear for a jewellery box, but with that certain grandeur of old master shipbuilding.