So, here is the post you have all been waiting for...a GIANT update about my life for ten days as part of a crew on a tall ship. I fear my writing will not do my adventure any justice, but I will certainly try. I filled up 70 pages of my journal over the course of the trip, so I will use it as a reference, and perhaps I will just include a ton of edited entries. When I use something from my journal, I'll use an * to mark the end and the beginning. Here goes nothing:
Part I:
Sunday, Jan 31st, 2010
*0930: Woke up. Enjoyed a refreshing cup of coffee whilst writing my online blog.
1100-1900: Went to the parking lot, played Frisbee, went to town, bought "Old Man and the Sea" with Jessica. Had more coffee. Freaked out momentarily as I realized I had so much to do. Moment of panic over. Home--read some literature readings, packed, picked up a mediocre pizza while trying to find mailboxes so Kate could mail letters separately to her boyfriend, (how cute!).
1900: Popped a sleeping pill and promptly passed out. Body was stupid. Body thought she was merely taking a nap.
Saturday, Feb 1st, 2010
2230: Woke up, feeling refreshed and ready to go. Looked and clock and realized it was only 10:30 pm. NOT GOOD.
0030: FINALLY fell asleep again.
0230: Alarm buzzed. Hit it. Fell asleep again.
0250: Realized I overslept.
MAD DASH!!!
0315: Managed to meet vans on time and drove off to Hartford airport.*
I had a hard time believing we were there already and in such warmer climes. We were given a tour of the ship and had several lectures. We then allowed the only 8 hours of uninterrupted sleep during the trip.
We were divided into watch groups which would meet at different times for watch for the deck, (which included roles such as boat check, engine room check, bow watch, steering, hauling lines, logging about the weather and course into "hourlies"), for the lab, (which included performing experiments in the water, such as through neuston tows, which gathers up sea life from the surface through a tiny-holed, long net, or looking through a microscope and doing 100-counts of different organisms), and for the galley (kitchen), (which included roles such as helping to chop up food and wash the dishes).
I was on "B" watch, and my watch schedule was the following:
Feb 2: 1300-1900, Lab
Feb 3: 0300-0700, Deck
1900-2300, Lab
Feb 4: 0700-1300, Deck
1900-2300, Lab
Feb 5: 1300-1900, Deck
Feb 6: 0300-0700, Lab
1900-2300, Deck
Feb 7: 0700-1300, Lab
2300-0300, Deck
Feb 8: 1300-1900, Galley
Feb 9: 0300-0700, Lab
1900-2300, Deck
Feb 10: 0700-1300, Galley
2300-0300, Lab
Feb 11: 1300-1900, Deck
We also had classes everyday at 1430, which sometimes overlapped watches. They were on different subjects every day: literature, marine science, or about ship life. They were about an hour at the most. Also, we took showers every 3 days after our dawn watch (0300-0700). Those mornings were so long...awake from 3am-7am, working on the deck, the lab, or in the galley, and then we'd have breakfast, and then we had to clean below decks, sweeping and scrubbing the floors, and THEN we could sleep or shower. Additionally, night watches were in 4 hour shifts, while daytime watches were in 6 hour shifts.
February 2nd, 2010
0916: *Is it really February 2nd? Feels more like a breezy day in July, which is lovely. After an extraordinary night's sleep, we are officially at sea! I see a sailboat and can still see coastline. Soon, we will be unable to see any land at all. I wonder how that will feel. Liberating or oppressive? Or perhaps both? I don't know what else to say...I'm speechless about it all, the newness of it all. It's like nothing I've experienced before.
1520: (class notes) "There is not so helpless and pitiable an object in the world as a landsman beginning a sailor's life." (Two Years Before the Mast, by Richard Dana Jr) I've been feeling kind of dizzy and am constantly tired. The lull of the blue water is like a lullaby putting me to sleep. And my dizziness is turning me into more of a klutz than ever. (Which is pretty bad.) I'm a bit surprised I haven't fallen overboard yet, ha. But I feel like I can relate to the previous quote* from class.
Feb 3rd, 2010
*1400: One tends to grow poetical when at sea. And how could one not? The drug-induced feelings provoked by sleepiness, dizziness, and nausea causes WEIRD things to run through your mind. And most great writers are crazy--the ocean only helps. (Not that I'm a great writer or anything.) This morning, I woke up for my watch, which went from 0300-0700. The seas were especially rough. I felt exceptionally dizzy and got up on deck. I was greeted by the sight of stars and a cloudy sky. It's strange to feel like you are drunk, but sober simultaneously. I had no control of where I was walking, (the dark certainly didn't help). I stumbled everywhere. First, I checked the boat, making sure everything was secure--checked the fridge, toilets, engine room. All was fine. I went back up on deck and was asked to go on bow watch, (which means sitting out on the bow and watching for lights from other ships.) I got up and strapped myself to the pole. The ship was going UP and DOWN, exactly like the pirate ship ride at Bethany Beach. The water crashed over the bowsprit and I clung for dear life on the metal roping. I looked and watched--grew accustomed to it. As I looked over the water and at the starry sky, I couldn't help but smile. I choked up with tears, overwhelmed by the beauty of it all. I was in a dream state though...my waking life and my dream life had intermingled and become one. I felt lucid and asleep. I didn't realize how tightly I was clinging onto the bow until I moved my hand away and found it numb.
The bow, in case you were wondering what it looked like
I have class again, will try writing more about last night later.
*1639: Okay, finally! I have a decent amount of downtime. There's SO much to do onboard. And usually, if I'm not doing anything scheduled, I'm sleeping. For the past 48 hours, all I've wanted to do is sleep--pitiful landlubber am I! I've finally reached a point where I'm awake enough to want to be awake...I can think AND function!
Anyway, as I prayed for my life and gawped at the black sea's beauty, (which was darker than the night sky above), I could see phantom-like lights dart around beneath the bow. Some of the streaks were as big as dolphins. Others, tiny pinpricks of glitter. They were phytoplankton. I wonder what former sailors thought of the unexplained lights before the discovery. Did they think they were ghosts, harbingers of doom? Perhaps they thought they were angels of G-d, sent to them by sea for good fortune.
Whilst greeted by the night's splendor, all alone, out on the bowsprit, lines of poetry ran through my mind repeatedly: "She walks in beauty like the night/ Of cloudless climes and starry skies/And all that is best of dark and bright/ Is in her aspect and her eyes." You must remember, I wasn't quite awake. I was a dreaming sailor, dreaming of a sea life...only in my dreams, truly asleep, I am back home with my family, landlocked and feeling safe.
Also, as I gazed up at the jib topsail, I noticed the quivering as the wind rolled against it. I thought again and again, "The white sail's shaking," (from "Sea Fever"). For me, it described the motion perfectly, and rang in my cloudy mind like a clanging bell.
I was relieved from bow watch, (after spotting lights of other ships ahead), and drunkenly made my way over the the helm. I said to Ben, who was steering, "You are relieved. What's your course?" He replied, "Three-one-zero." I repeated back the numbers to him and took the wheel. I was actually steering! Using a compass in front of the helm, which was lit up in red, I steered port/starboard, trying to keep the course on 310 degrees NW. It was difficult getting a feel for how many turns of the wheel to make. A ship is quite different from a car or a motorboat...it is a big craft and takes a long time to move the stern.
The Helm
As I steered, the ship continued to rock roughly. Most of my watch started getting sick. People were throwing up overboard and became incapacitated...unable to work any longer. I tried looking away, but I could see people getting up and holding heads over the railing. I felt dizzier and dizzier. The wheel became my lifeline, and when i was relieved from that duty, I was also relieved from my lifeline. I was asked to go up on bow watch again for the remaining half hour of our watch. A wave of nausea overcame me without much warning. "I...really...can't," I managed to blurt out. I grabbed my water bottle and drank...drank...trying to hold off the sickness, keep the possible upsurgence at bay. I got a weird, gnawing sensation in my jaws. I breathed...1...2 more times, and by some miracle, I was okay. I sat still, clutching my water bottle for what felt like ages, shaking violently from cold and nausea, afraid to move.
Sea sickness is such a strange malady. It affects everyone differently. My stomach felt perfectly fine. I was hungry, as a matter of fact, and yet, my head wanted to vomit, not my stomach. It was all in my head. The boat rocks your senses and puts everything out of balance.
I drank some ginger ale, had a light breakfast, helped clean below decks for a bit, and passed out. I came to around 1230 and felt much better, albeit still dizzy. I finally felt a part of the waking world though. I showered, which is hard to do on a moving vessel...requires much finnesse indeed), had class, learned more about the sails, and now my dizziness is finally gone. I'll keep taking meds and wearing my pressure-point bracelet though.
Memorable quote: "Haul like crazy mammals!" -Captain Beth (She's so tough, but really nice, and also has a habit of walking arond the ship barefoot, like it's a living room.)
Memorable fact: Dusty, our engineer, used to be a police officer in Colorado. He wore the whole nine yards...cowboy boots, hat, uniform. Pretty hard to believe. He looks like an old hippie sea salt...has bright white hair, a scraggly beard, and a piercing with a long feather dangling from it.*
Dusty is on the left in this photo
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Okay, I'm going to stop here. Jessica and I need to run to CVS so we can grab supplies since we both lost our luggage. I really need to brush my teeth! :-P I will update as soon as I can!
We arrived in Miami and made a transfer onto a smaller plane headed toward Key West. My interpreter, Ben, sat next to me during the hour and a half flight and we made up name signs for certain parts of the ship, such as the names of sails and lines. (This turned out to be quite a good idea--there are thousands of lines to haul and ease out!) When we arrived at Key West, we were taken to a Coast Guard section of the beach where our ship, the Corwith Cramer and its crew stood, ready and waiting for us
Boarding the Corwith Cramer for the first time
Boarding the Corwith Cramer for the first timeI had a hard time believing we were there already and in such warmer climes. We were given a tour of the ship and had several lectures. We then allowed the only 8 hours of uninterrupted sleep during the trip.
We were divided into watch groups which would meet at different times for watch for the deck, (which included roles such as boat check, engine room check, bow watch, steering, hauling lines, logging about the weather and course into "hourlies"), for the lab, (which included performing experiments in the water, such as through neuston tows, which gathers up sea life from the surface through a tiny-holed, long net, or looking through a microscope and doing 100-counts of different organisms), and for the galley (kitchen), (which included roles such as helping to chop up food and wash the dishes).
I was on "B" watch, and my watch schedule was the following:
Feb 2: 1300-1900, Lab
Feb 3: 0300-0700, Deck
1900-2300, Lab
Feb 4: 0700-1300, Deck
1900-2300, Lab
Feb 5: 1300-1900, Deck
Feb 6: 0300-0700, Lab
1900-2300, Deck
Feb 7: 0700-1300, Lab
2300-0300, Deck
Feb 8: 1300-1900, Galley
Feb 9: 0300-0700, Lab
1900-2300, Deck
Feb 10: 0700-1300, Galley
2300-0300, Lab
Feb 11: 1300-1900, Deck
We also had classes everyday at 1430, which sometimes overlapped watches. They were on different subjects every day: literature, marine science, or about ship life. They were about an hour at the most. Also, we took showers every 3 days after our dawn watch (0300-0700). Those mornings were so long...awake from 3am-7am, working on the deck, the lab, or in the galley, and then we'd have breakfast, and then we had to clean below decks, sweeping and scrubbing the floors, and THEN we could sleep or shower. Additionally, night watches were in 4 hour shifts, while daytime watches were in 6 hour shifts.
February 2nd, 2010
0916: *Is it really February 2nd? Feels more like a breezy day in July, which is lovely. After an extraordinary night's sleep, we are officially at sea! I see a sailboat and can still see coastline. Soon, we will be unable to see any land at all. I wonder how that will feel. Liberating or oppressive? Or perhaps both? I don't know what else to say...I'm speechless about it all, the newness of it all. It's like nothing I've experienced before.
1520: (class notes) "There is not so helpless and pitiable an object in the world as a landsman beginning a sailor's life." (Two Years Before the Mast, by Richard Dana Jr) I've been feeling kind of dizzy and am constantly tired. The lull of the blue water is like a lullaby putting me to sleep. And my dizziness is turning me into more of a klutz than ever. (Which is pretty bad.) I'm a bit surprised I haven't fallen overboard yet, ha. But I feel like I can relate to the previous quote* from class.
Feb 3rd, 2010
*1400: One tends to grow poetical when at sea. And how could one not? The drug-induced feelings provoked by sleepiness, dizziness, and nausea causes WEIRD things to run through your mind. And most great writers are crazy--the ocean only helps. (Not that I'm a great writer or anything.) This morning, I woke up for my watch, which went from 0300-0700. The seas were especially rough. I felt exceptionally dizzy and got up on deck. I was greeted by the sight of stars and a cloudy sky. It's strange to feel like you are drunk, but sober simultaneously. I had no control of where I was walking, (the dark certainly didn't help). I stumbled everywhere. First, I checked the boat, making sure everything was secure--checked the fridge, toilets, engine room. All was fine. I went back up on deck and was asked to go on bow watch, (which means sitting out on the bow and watching for lights from other ships.) I got up and strapped myself to the pole. The ship was going UP and DOWN, exactly like the pirate ship ride at Bethany Beach. The water crashed over the bowsprit and I clung for dear life on the metal roping. I looked and watched--grew accustomed to it. As I looked over the water and at the starry sky, I couldn't help but smile. I choked up with tears, overwhelmed by the beauty of it all. I was in a dream state though...my waking life and my dream life had intermingled and become one. I felt lucid and asleep. I didn't realize how tightly I was clinging onto the bow until I moved my hand away and found it numb.
The bow, in case you were wondering what it looked likeI have class again, will try writing more about last night later.
*1639: Okay, finally! I have a decent amount of downtime. There's SO much to do onboard. And usually, if I'm not doing anything scheduled, I'm sleeping. For the past 48 hours, all I've wanted to do is sleep--pitiful landlubber am I! I've finally reached a point where I'm awake enough to want to be awake...I can think AND function!
Anyway, as I prayed for my life and gawped at the black sea's beauty, (which was darker than the night sky above), I could see phantom-like lights dart around beneath the bow. Some of the streaks were as big as dolphins. Others, tiny pinpricks of glitter. They were phytoplankton. I wonder what former sailors thought of the unexplained lights before the discovery. Did they think they were ghosts, harbingers of doom? Perhaps they thought they were angels of G-d, sent to them by sea for good fortune.
Whilst greeted by the night's splendor, all alone, out on the bowsprit, lines of poetry ran through my mind repeatedly: "She walks in beauty like the night/ Of cloudless climes and starry skies/And all that is best of dark and bright/ Is in her aspect and her eyes." You must remember, I wasn't quite awake. I was a dreaming sailor, dreaming of a sea life...only in my dreams, truly asleep, I am back home with my family, landlocked and feeling safe.
Also, as I gazed up at the jib topsail, I noticed the quivering as the wind rolled against it. I thought again and again, "The white sail's shaking," (from "Sea Fever"). For me, it described the motion perfectly, and rang in my cloudy mind like a clanging bell.
I was relieved from bow watch, (after spotting lights of other ships ahead), and drunkenly made my way over the the helm. I said to Ben, who was steering, "You are relieved. What's your course?" He replied, "Three-one-zero." I repeated back the numbers to him and took the wheel. I was actually steering! Using a compass in front of the helm, which was lit up in red, I steered port/starboard, trying to keep the course on 310 degrees NW. It was difficult getting a feel for how many turns of the wheel to make. A ship is quite different from a car or a motorboat...it is a big craft and takes a long time to move the stern.
The HelmAs I steered, the ship continued to rock roughly. Most of my watch started getting sick. People were throwing up overboard and became incapacitated...unable to work any longer. I tried looking away, but I could see people getting up and holding heads over the railing. I felt dizzier and dizzier. The wheel became my lifeline, and when i was relieved from that duty, I was also relieved from my lifeline. I was asked to go up on bow watch again for the remaining half hour of our watch. A wave of nausea overcame me without much warning. "I...really...can't," I managed to blurt out. I grabbed my water bottle and drank...drank...trying to hold off the sickness, keep the possible upsurgence at bay. I got a weird, gnawing sensation in my jaws. I breathed...1...2 more times, and by some miracle, I was okay. I sat still, clutching my water bottle for what felt like ages, shaking violently from cold and nausea, afraid to move.
Sea sickness is such a strange malady. It affects everyone differently. My stomach felt perfectly fine. I was hungry, as a matter of fact, and yet, my head wanted to vomit, not my stomach. It was all in my head. The boat rocks your senses and puts everything out of balance.
I drank some ginger ale, had a light breakfast, helped clean below decks for a bit, and passed out. I came to around 1230 and felt much better, albeit still dizzy. I finally felt a part of the waking world though. I showered, which is hard to do on a moving vessel...requires much finnesse indeed), had class, learned more about the sails, and now my dizziness is finally gone. I'll keep taking meds and wearing my pressure-point bracelet though.
Memorable quote: "Haul like crazy mammals!" -Captain Beth (She's so tough, but really nice, and also has a habit of walking arond the ship barefoot, like it's a living room.)
Memorable fact: Dusty, our engineer, used to be a police officer in Colorado. He wore the whole nine yards...cowboy boots, hat, uniform. Pretty hard to believe. He looks like an old hippie sea salt...has bright white hair, a scraggly beard, and a piercing with a long feather dangling from it.*
Dusty is on the left in this photo------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Okay, I'm going to stop here. Jessica and I need to run to CVS so we can grab supplies since we both lost our luggage. I really need to brush my teeth! :-P I will update as soon as I can!
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