The only sensible ship in our navy (the one with sails) is not a freighter, but for a three-month voyage, various items must naturally be brought along. There was a general and specific need that we had to reorder from the radio room for the next port if necessary. The general need consists of the things that every household continuously purchases, just in proportionally smaller quantities.
The specific needs included, first: condoms in far above-average household quantities. On deck in the harbor, there was always a container nearly the size of a shoebox for self-service. After the first stay, more had to be reordered for the second. Considering that not everyone on board - I know this for sure! - used the port times for corresponding activities, certain sailor clichés have probably arisen for a reason. (The tax office refers to such non-cash benefits for employees as “in-kind benefits.” Usually, these are different benefits than free condoms, but for those, “-benefit” fits quite well).
Secondly: alcoholic beverages. The enormous supplies of lightly alcoholic hop refreshment drinks are not even worth mentioning; it’s about variants with an alcohol content greater than 20. From the beginning, these were stored in a quantity that would have made even the hard-core veterans of the Westerschnatebüll volunteer fire department (Rescue - Extinguish - Recover - Protect - Celebrate) pale. The calculation of the minimum quantity to be maintained, plus a little extra for hospitality, was trivial: everyone from the sailor to the captain, well over 200 people, was entitled to a duty-free “hard liquor” purchase per month, meaning in this specific case a total of three rations. The lower ranks received exactly one of those. Nevertheless, the other two somehow disappeared by the end, primarily thanks to the boat crew during the voyage. (With certain medium-term consequences for body size and career; see “Sel de Vetiver.” Fairly, it should be added that one of the lower-ranking colleagues managed to develop a belly with “stretch marks” star-shaped around the navel just with beer over six months).
That’s the topic of cargo space and load on board the only ship I seriously know in our time.
Navegar, on the other hand, takes us into a cargo space from yesterday. An empty one. The spoiled cargo hatches of the long-decommissioned freighter reluctantly opened. As we descend the wide wooden steps, we pierce the stagnant air. It carries a rush of scents. Pepper primarily, and a special one at that, namely pink pepper. Botanically speaking, it isn’t even pepper; it’s the fruit of the Brazilian or Peruvian pepper tree. Additionally, there’s strong rum.
Quickly, the first, hefty impression fades. Now the scent is no longer strong; it lies on the skin like a veil of something that once was, a memory of a distant century when this aged clipper was one of the fastest of its kind traveling between tropical America and the Old World. At a time when nothing was hermetically packaged in containers, but where sacks, boxes, and barrels, occasionally torn or broken, could release their aromas deep into the wood over the years. Ginger, anise, noble resins and woods, a hint of fruit, along with some things that were not listed on the last cargo lists: the bitter-pale scent of already fermented cocoa can be sensed; even spices from completely different origins are present - a hint of nutmeg, possibly clove.
But foremost is the pepper, later complemented by its black namesake. It is subtly underlined by the spicy fruitiness of ginger, thus emphasizing its own aromatic side, not the more banal sharpness. This is a carefully crushed pepper for connoisseurs, not a carelessly ground powder stored too long in a shaker. For several hours, it remains the leitmotif of the scent, before - have our noses finally gotten used to it? - the blend becomes softer, almost creamy. In style, I involuntarily feel reminded of the delicious “Herbe Sahne” from Santos by Cartier, although I find the latter a bit more defined.
However, in essence, it would be almost too much to describe a scent development. Navegar does without genuine change. While the protagonists of the bitter-spicy corner change, they also become milder, gentler, just as our excitedly curious mood upon entering the cargo space (of the 200-year-old, of course) gradually shifted to a calm, melancholic, imaginative as-if memory. Nevertheless, the finely balanced mixture remains true to its character over the hours. Unfortunately, it hardly lasts six or seven of those before the scent itself fades into memory. Still, an excellent, distinctive perfume with high recognition value.
Conclusion: Joho, and a bottle full of rum. But just one.
Top Notes 
Lime
Pink pepper
Ginger
Heart Notes 
Star anise
Rum
Black pepper
Base Notes 
Cedar
Gaiac wood
Frankincense
SchatzSucher
Verbena
Torfdoen
Pollita
Atanarjuat
Yatagan
Jumi
Jacko
Mefunx
MichH
