Across an ocean on a junk
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board the small ship, the crew had little shelter from the North Pacific storms, some of which unleashed 50-knot winds. Cooking was impossible at times, and the crew would huddle together to stay warm in the rough weather. “The builder thought the ship was just for show in museums. He told us we were out of our minds to do it,” said Hugh Morrow. “That was not so reassuring.” Morrow is accustomed to going out of his way to find adventure. At 24, inspired by a chance conversation, Morrow decided to draw out his savings and buy a 26-foot Chrysler sloop. His lack of experience was telling, but with the help of a local boatbuilder he gradually developed his skills by sailing the lakes and rivers of Oregon, determined to be a part of the boating world. As Morrow quested for adventure a half a world away, businessman and sailing enthusiast Nelson Liu was interested in the past. While other countries cherished their histories through faithfully recreating ancient ships, the Chinese, according to Liu, were not as concerned with authenticity. Replicas of Chinese ships sported anachronistic features like metal hulls, an embarrassment in Liu’s eyes. To rectify the situation, Liu decided to build his own replica, scouring ancient records describing traditional building techniques of Chinese Ming Dynasty junk vessels, finally discoverHugh Morrow, above, takes off across the Pacific aboard the traditionally built Chinese junk Princess Taiping, top, bound for San Francisco.
20 May 2011
ing detailed instructions in Nanjing University and the National Central Library of Taiwan. After finding a suitable construction yard in Fujian Province, Liu and his team oversaw the painstaking construction, using cotton sails, local timber, and even handmade nails. The result was Princess Taiping, and although she was aesthetically pleasing, the chief builder was not convinced she was seaworthy. Morrow eventually quit his job in the States and headed to the island city of Xiamen in Fujian province, a city with aspirations of become a major yachting capital. There he heard a call to crew Liu’s replica, and joined Princess Taiping as the only Western member of the eight-man expedition. While Liu was concerned with authenticity and Morrow in adventure, a group of professors at Xiamen University were more interested in whether the ship could survive a long voyage. Their hypothesis was that ancient Chinese mariners had made such extensive journeys in the past. “We know that the Chinese made it to the Americas from the evidence left,” Morrow said, “but we don’t know if they returned.” On April 13, 2008, over the reservations of the builder, the expedition set sail from Xiamen to San Francisco, a 15,000-mile journey that would test the craftsmanship of the vessel and the crew’s fortitude. For Morrow, who had never sailed on the open ocean, the voyage was a challenge on many levels. One difficulty was the ship itself. Princess Taiping’s tiller was a massive 15yard wooden log, and the crew was required to man it at all times. “The theory of sailing a Chinese junk is the same,” said Morrow, “but the method is different.”
The cold weather and frequent storms, combined with the cramped, often waterlogged quarters provided poor accommodations throughout the voyage. The toilet was a hole near the helm, and the crew showered with seawater or in the rain. The diet of the crew consisted of fish and rice, and when cooking was not possible on the propane stove, the team made due with crackers and dry noodles. The crew was limited to two cups of hot water every two hours, but even that was a treasured commodity after water supplies were lost on the outbound voyage from China, forcing the crew to drink water filtered through towels. Princess Taiping sailed from Xiamen to Hong Kong, to Taiwan, and Japan, before making the long jump across the Pacific Ocean. On September 18, off the coast of Canada, the Chinese junk capsized. As the ship flooded, the crew used everything from cups to bowls to bail water, eventually juryrigging an extension cord from an iPod lead and a cell phone to the bilge pump. The actions of the crew saved the ship but it underscored the numerous safety hazards aboard the ill-equipped venture. Most of the life jackets were unwearable, and more importantly, the ship crossed the Pacific without an epirb. The voyage was not without its enjoyable experiences. For Morrow, meeting people and hearing the stories they told was the most fascinating part of the journey. “I learned to appreciate the sunrise and sunset,” said Morrow, “It was the best part of our days.” When Princess Taiping landed in San Francisco in mid-October, the ship was put on display. Hundreds of people came to view the junk boat, including immigrants
from China, who had only seen such vessels as children in their homeland. “One man in San Francisco that came to visit our ship had not been outside the house for almost three years,” said Morrow. “He was in his 80s, but after reading about us and the ship he came down to meet us.” For Morrow it was an interesting exposure to the history of the Chinese in America, enriching his experiences with the crew. As the only non-Mandarin speaker among a crew, the cultural barrier was difficult at first. Yet, through the long months, Morrow bonded with his shipmates and learned a great deal of their customs and language. “We had lots of time on the ship. I learned a lot of Mandarin, though most of what I learned was specific to sailing and fishing.” New recruits and donations, including working life vests and an epirb, bolstered the more difficult return voyage. Finally, after spending more than a year on Princess Taiping, Morrow was asked to leave the ship. The captain, anticipating an easy return to Taipei, the final leg of the journey, wanted his friends to come aboard and crew. Although frustrating for Morrow and the original crewmembers, the decision was
fortuitous. On April 26, roughly 30 miles from its final destination, a tanker rammed into and sunk the Chinese junk. The crew was saved, but the voyage of Princess Taiping was at an end. Today, Liu still dreams of building another replica junk, and Morrow still lives in Xiamen, working for the boating industry. Sailing in Xiamen has received a boost in the last few years as Chinese with money and inclinations grow more interested in the sport. “The Chinese have the money and the momentum to get the industry going but what we are missing is the soft business,” said Morrow. “We need the most important part—the people and the culture. This will take some time to develop.” Morrow, perhaps inspired by his adventure, has also started a group, the Xiamen Water Safety Initiative, to raise awareness of safety issues in China. In a country where 30,000 children drown every year, Morrow feels that simple education is an easy solution. Morrow still dreams of adventure. “When you die you can’t take anything with you,” Morrow said. “I want to have good stories and memories. Maybe I can take them with me.” --Biju Sukumaran
The Chinese junk Princess Taiping crossed the ocean, but was sunk after being hit by a tanker on her return trip from the United States. Luckily no one was hurt.
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