Sailing on La Grace – A Pirate’s Dream in Real Life

Radek Januš

08 Jul 2025 — 5 min read

Have you ever sailed on a historical tall ship? No? You totally should.

Every year, a bunch of us from the neighborhood pick some kind of wild week-long adventure. One summer, my buddy Jirka – the kind of guy who knows everyone and everything – came up with the idea of sailing on La Grace, a fully functional replica of an 18th-century brig flying the Czech flag. Yup, you heard that right. Czech pirates!

We all jumped on board with the plan (well, not literally yet), super excited about spending a week living like sailors from the old days. But then reality slapped me – the dates clashed with the Czech National Championship in traditional karate. There was no way I could skip that. So I just watched from the sidelines as the rest of the crew made plans... until something unexpected happened.

Right before their departure, a storm seriously damaged La Grace. The trip was canceled. Boom. Just like that, the sea gods gave me a second chance. The new date didn’t clash with any karate events. I was in.

Meet La Grace – A Czech Beauty on the Open Sea

La Grace is not just any ship. She’s a handcrafted replica of an 18th-century brig, built in Egypt between 2008–2010 based on original blueprints by French naval engineer Boudriot. Her design was inspired by the legendary Czech sailor and cartographer Augustin Heřman – a noble from Mělník who traded court life for sails and stormy horizons.

In the 17th century, Heřman sailed to the New World, became a top-notch mapmaker, merchant and corsair, and even earned his own chunk of land in today’s Maryland – which he named Bohemia. Places like Bohemia River and Bohemia Manor Farm still carry his legacy today. That’s some proper Czech pirate spirit, right?

Setting Sail from Italy

Fast forward to departure day. I packed light – just the essentials – and joined our 8-person crew driving from the Czech Republic down to Porto Baratti, Italy. That’s where La Grace was anchored, waiting for us like something out of a movie.

I hadn’t paid much attention to the details. I figured, "I’m with my buddies, this’ll be fun – we’ll just go with the flow." And boy, did we.

The ship takes 20–30 people per voyage, plus the core crew: Captain Pepa, the no-nonsense boatswain Jirka, chef Libuška (bless her!), engineer Pavel, and coordinator Romana. I wondered: how can such a small crew handle such a big ship?

Turns out – you help.

You can sign up as a “guest” (meaning you chill and enjoy the ride) or a “cadet” (meaning you get to work – rigging sails, cleaning, scrubbing, learning the ropes – literally). Even though we picked cabins instead of the shared crew bunks, we all agreed: let’s earn our sea legs.

Welcome Aboard!

As soon as we got on deck and did the basic check-in, boatswain Jirka blew his whistle. “All hands on deck!” Time to meet the rest of the shipmates and get briefed.

Boatswains (yeah, I had to Google it too) are basically the right hand of the captain. They manage the daily work on deck, handle ropes, sails, crew duties – and know how to motivate with just a sharp whistle and a few salty words.

We were split into rotating teams. One day you’re peeling potatoes, the next you’re climbing the rigging and furling sails. We weren’t just passengers. We were part of the crew. And I loved it.

Our planned route: a voyage around the island of Elba – yep, that Elba where Napoleon was exiled before his dramatic return to France. (But let’s skip the history lesson – we’ve got sails to raise.)

Rough Start, Salty Lessons

The first morning hit me hard. “Wait... I’m stuck on a boat for a week... with strangers… in super tight quarters... no private space?” Panic.

Add to that: no running water for the first two days – only bottled water for drinking. Brushing teeth with seawater became the norm. Showers? Just jump overboard. (Preferably when the boat’s anchored, not sailing at full speed.)

It was rough. It was raw. But weirdly enough, it was perfect.

By the second day, everything started to shift. The sea has this way of calming your mind. The crew felt like family. People who’d done this trip several times shared tips, jokes, and stories. By the third night, we were singing with a guitar under the stars, sipping wine in a quiet harbor.

The Japanese have a phrase for this kind of moment: Ichigo Ichie – “one time, one meeting.” This night will never happen again, so live it fully.

Boatswain Jirka teaches us the basics of sailing a historical ship.

The Pirate with the Drone (and Bloody Feet)

Of course, I brought my drone. I imagined epic footage: sails full, sea glistening, sun setting. I had it all planned.

The drone took off – and immediately drifted sideways. I panicked. “Not my drone!” I tried to land it as quickly as possible... barefoot.

Bad idea.

Those little plastic blades are sharp. My feet got shredded. Blood everywhere. But I landed it.

Turned out: GPS drones think they’re hovering when stationary. But the ship was moving – so the drone was trying to “hover” while the boat kept sailing away. Rookie mistake. Lesson learned: only fly when the ship is anchored.

Still got some amazing shots though. Worth the blood? Yeah, probably.

Nights to Remember

Every night felt like magic. Yeah, rum was involved – sailors’ tradition, right?

But the real highlight? One night, someone pulled out a projector and played Master & Commander on a sail! As cannonballs flew across the screen, the wind rocked our ship at the perfect moment. Chills. It felt real.

A Different Kind of Adventure

As our voyage came to an end, I realized this wasn’t just a cool trip. It was a full reset.

Sure, there’s no luxury onboard. You’re in cramped quarters, sweating below deck, learning knots you’ll probably never use again. But you also disconnect from the endless noise of modern life. No phones. No pressure. Just wind, water, and the wide open sky.

The sea does something to you. It quiets your mind, sharpens your focus, and reminds you how little you actually need to be happy.

If you ever get the chance to sail La Grace – do it. She’s not just a ship. She’s a time machine. A floating legend. And if you listen closely, she might just whisper an old sailor’s tale in your ear as the sun sets behind the mast.