Sail Harlingen held an open day on Saturday. The tall ships warmly welcomed visitors aboard, and on board, interested visitors listened to the crew’s stories. Other visitors sailed through the harbour aboard the Sterke Yerke: the refurbished raft that, in 1979, narrowly failed to make the crossing to the Caribbean and sank to the bottom of the Atlantic Ocean 60 kilometres off Willemstad.
From around two o’clock, most of the ships began to empty as their crews made their way to the Crew Parade, a regular feature of the Sail. The crews gathered behind the dyke, after which the colourful procession made a lively tour of Harlingen. It was particularly busy in the Voorstraat, where the crowd – five rows deep – applauded; the procession of music, singing and the unique vessels from Abacus Theatre followed behind the proudly waving flag-bearers. Among them was twelve-year-old Liam, who was followed all day by a camera crew from the Jeugdjournaal.
Once back at Willemshaven, the young trainees were asked all sorts of questions. Yes, life on board was brilliant. Yes, lots of people got seasick. And yes, sometimes we were absolutely terrified. ‘But we supported each other on board,’ said fifteen-year-old Carl from Denmark. Did the food on the ship – in his case, the Eendracht – taste any good? ‘Really good, actually. The frikadel roll was the best. Best snack ever.’
On the main stage, Sven Hammond and his Fullband put on a brilliant performance, bringing the programme to a close – a programme that also featured other highlights such as Banda Carumba, The Upsessions and Haitze. These included the tug-of-war at the Zuiderhaven, the sports and games in the Waddenhal, and the tobbedansen in the town centre, where the judges Frits Wester and Jan Ykema chatted away merrily.
But the most beautiful story wasn’t told on Saturday. It couldn’t be put into words. A girl got in touch with the organisation a few months ago. She wanted to come along as a trainee, but was very shy and sparing with her words. And even when she did say something, she preferred to look away. Huddled inside her hoodie. On Saturday, she stepped off the boat. With a group of friends. Laughing at a joke she’d made. A colleague recognised the girl, who then spoke to him with a smile and looked at him confidently. She’d left the hoodie on board. Sometimes a good story is the best souvenir you can take home…
