By Herman Thorbecke
Swimming is also a form of travel, and I do that almost every day in my swim spa. Against a strong current, I work hard to reach the other side, but never do, endlessly swimming in my endless pool. I keep that up for about 20 to 30 minutes and travel about one theoretical mile—a nautical one. On cold days I row on my rowing machine in the basement, while looking at river scenery on my tablet. I row as many as 10 miles that way and see something of the world.
Some days I also travel by bike, on my stationary bike in front of the bedroom window, and enjoy the scenery outside. It has a very comfortable, padded, reclining seat. There are many advantages to riding a stationary bike. Minimal traffic and absolutely no need to wear a helmet. Between swimming, rowing, and cycling, I travel many miles daily. That way I see something of the world—the bottom of my pool, the world’s famous waterways on my tablet, and all the birds in my garden.
Sailing, on a real sailboat, is another great way to travel. It is mostly very peaceful and harmonious, with only the sound of the wind in the sails and the gentle splashing of the waves against the hull. I did a lot of that, on rivers, lakes, bays, and oceans. I nearly sank on a wooden boat in the North Sea once, but still claim that sailing is mostly safe and peaceful. That close call happened on a dark, stormy night and we were rescued by the Danish Coast Guard. They were very nice about it. Never sent us a bill, not even for the smorgasbord breakfast they served us at their Coast Guard station.
My first real voyage at sea, I experienced onboard a small coaster, a little, old-fashioned 500-ton freighter (brand new at the time) that carried anything that needed to be transported. It belonged to the parents of Marja — my first-ever girlfriend. I was invited to join them for a few weeks during the summer vacation. We traveled to a number of ports, in Denmark, Norway, and Sweden.
The crew consisted of Dutch salts with one German, the first officer, who had done service in the German navy on a U-boat. Some of the others had sailed under the White Ensign, including the captain, and for them, the war, only five or six years past, wasn’t quite done yet. This German did have a sense of humor and he needed it, as the war jokes had no end. Here is one I remember to this day.
Hitler visits a lunatic asylum. The patients give the Hitler salute. As he passes down the line he comes across a man who isn’t saluting. Hitler barks, “Why aren’t you saluting like the others?”
“Mein Fuhrer, I’m the nurse. I’m not crazy!”
“Ah, das ist gut.”
I enjoyed that trip tremendously, as they allowed me to steer the ship whenever I wanted. It does something for the ego to, sort of, have full control of a big boat like that. In those days a ship was steered employing a large spoked wheel, while you kept an eye on the compass. At times my attention wavered a little, and that drew comments from the officer on deck, such as, “Pay attention, sailor, our course is to Oslo, not Reykjavik!” There was no such thing as an automatic pilot in those days.
I fell out of love with Marja and in love with her twin sister, who wanted none of me. Marja took over the shipping business and is now a multi-millionaire. That’s how that cookie crumbled.
Let’s see, we discussed swimming, rowing, riding a bike, and sailing. There are also horseback riding and riding on a camel. That’s right – I rode a camel once, in Egypt—a little like sailing a small boat. For good reason, camels are also known as ships of the desert.
I could still ride a horse, but to do so I would need to own one, and I can’t even afford a donkey. A hobby horse might be an option. I can see us, my wife on the cycle, and I, in pursuit on my hobby horse—real bedroom stuff.
And then there are cars to take us to the grocery store, and flying, which for me is not an option as my legs don’t fit anymore. No, they did not grow longer, just stiff and arthritic.