Barque. Brigatine. Ketch. Sloop. Even a well-keeled head might rub the chin in query, but everyone knows a tall ship when they see one. 

July 16th marks a return visit of the tall ships to Nova Scotia, the eastern Canadian province that prods the Atlantic like a two-sided thumb. Return visit, it’s true. Whether four times in 20 years can be considered a recurring habit is arguable, but it’s not like we’ve become detached. It’s the Maritimes; friendly visits run warm in the blood. The wider event is The Tall Ships Atlantic Challenge Race, a trans-oceanic regatta of nearly 15 nations, Russia to Germany, Brazil to Belgium, and our southern pals of course. The route carries its participants from Vigo, Spain to the Canary Islands then breaks north for stops that include Charleston, Boston, and Halifax. Halifax, Nova Scotia to be precise. Some will breathe here then move on to eastern provincial stops that include Lunenburg and Port Hawkesbury before wrapping in Pugwash on August 1st. Others will choose the road less placid and sprint direct from the Halifax parade of sail (July 20th) to Belfast. The finish line sits 2,350 nautical miles away, but let’s get behind ourselves.  

Sunday, July 19th. Saturday’s grey is stripped to sunshine and everyone’s favorite blue. A short walk from Casino Halifax is the first sighting. Necks bend up, on occasion with a crack. On either side of an extended pier are two of the more impressive vessels, the square-sailed training ship Picton Castle and Amsterdam’s Europa. More than half the ships are staffed by cadets and trainees as members of sail training programs. Uruguay’s 205-foot Captain Miranda serves naval graduates. Barbados’ Condordia combines academics and splinters for high schoolers and GAP year students. As for the Picton, you’ll hear the obvious comparisons whenever its seen, Jack Sparrow something or other, though the ship actually used in Johnny Depp’s pirate series sits further down the boardwalk, the HMS Bounty. Fully rigged and wooden hulled with masts like pins in an aged cushion, the Bounty has its own Canadian connection. It was built in Lunenburg, Nova Scotia for MGM’s 1962 film, “Mutiny on the Bounty.” 

On the subject of local backdrops, Historic Properties is the ideal canvas to take in the event, but architecturally speaking that’s just Halifax, a city of 21st century ambitions primped in 19th century looks. Arriving via the ferry? Glance right. Cobbles and ironstone. Victorian-era facades. Historic Properties features ten buildings carefully restored atop a four-acre district with Privateers’ Warehouse being the oldest. Now, portions of the complex are filled with pubs, the wares of local artisans, and memorable surf and turf. Then was a different story. Bounty, or was it booty, the kind sought after in the 1800s by privateers, brigand seafarers who looted enemy ships with the approval of the British Crown. It was enough to salivate a scallywag. There aren’t so many visible during Tall Ships 2009 mind you, though there are plenty of bodies hydrating themselves from a keg and speaking in the language known as Weekend. If they have young ones, chances are they’ve already heard of Pirates Landing, the small park down the harbour that caters to the kids. Live pirate theatrics. Touch tanks. Colored inflatables. The smallest fingers point at ice cream and any souvenir bearing a skull.  

The entertainment is distinctly Maritime. The Saunders Brothers are playing until 8 on the Halifax waterfront. Under the white canopy christened “Pogue on the Wharf” they cajole and draw stomping feet to the floorboards with a mash of Celtic and kitchen music, all in view of water and two hometown favorites. The barquentine Caledonia offers floating hotel services to passengers, a bed and breakfast on salt water. Meanwhile the Bluenose II sits in black, dark and dangerously cut. A single yellow bee stripe gives the impression of speed. “Anyone here from the West Coast?” says the voice on stage, likely a Saunders brother. A hand goes up. “What part?” The name Vancouver carries through the air and triggers the punch-line. “Well, welcome to the right side of Canada.” It’s a joke care of the occasion but for water-lubbers maybe closer to the lie that’s 90% truth.