Wild Blue Yonder

Post by Laurie

Part One

After the second day, I quickly realized that we were in a time shift. With our watch system in fully swing, it was necessary to catch sleep when the opportunity arose. This meant going to bed and getting up at least three times over a 24 hour period. In my world, each day seemed to equal one week. Eventually, I just learned to be in whatever moment was current. Time always passes, no matter what, and I set my mind to be in the present moment as it would surely pass. Although there were mentions of how far we had gone and how far we had left to go, I did not let that into my mind. I lived in the moment at hand.

Warmth is not at sea on the North West Pacific Ocean in August. Especially as we progressed further west. The day wasn’t so bad, we even had light coat only days at first. The nights required at least three layers under my foul weather jacket and two under my foul weather bib pants. Fleece was a requirement top and bottom A warm toque, fleece hoodie and jacket hood pulled up over my head. Over the first three days (aka as weeks, see above) I did not bother to removed a single layer when I crawled into my bunk between my night watches. Including my shoes. On the third or fourth day, I thought I might release my feet from captivity. Phew! Did they every stink! As we progressed further south, I began to wonder if we had inadvertently boarded a vessel bound for Antarctica. The weather got cooler, damper and another layer was added. I must note that I found the wind itself to be warmish, not biting cold. The cold dampness of the sea is what made the layers necessary. Cold humidity.

As I had expected, my worst fears came to pass. Big wind and rough seas. When Moe and Harry decided to heave-to (essentially parking the boat) due to the sea state, I caught their apprehension and allowed my feelings to run wild. I was terrified. Even in my terror I was able to respond to the task at hand and did what was requested of me. Immediately upon parking, I crumbled into a blithering mess. Moe tried to comfort me only to be met with a full on blast of emotion. Before falling into my bunk for a sob session, I did get our position plotted on the chart. Once I got over the melt down, I had a little chat with myself about my behaviour. It was time to stiffen the upper lip and my spine. I found it a hard but good lesson on being part of the team. Henceforth, I would do my best to keep my fears at bay and be a positive member of the crew. I was not always successful and there were even times when my insistence on charting and close weather watch were misconstrued as freaking out. Nevertheless, I was relentless in those respects. Our safety was at stake here! Coming into a busy shipping lane set off the panic alarm, too. After instruction on the AIS and radar and the assurance I could wake anyone up if I was concerned, I took on that night watch. It is the fear of being inadequately equipped or trained to handle a situation that sets off those alarm bells and the frustration of uncertainty. Knowledge is power.

As I knew it would, we never, ever ceased movement. Forever we were tossed back and forth from one side of the boat to the other. While we walked, while we cooked, while we sat on the toilet, while we slept. Occasionally there were requests to the current watch keeper to please find a road less bumpy or at least stop hitting every pot hole! The movement made every task a chore. In the galley not a single item could be set down without being secured first, otherwise it would go skittering across the counter. All meals had to be well thought out. What do I need? Where willI put it? Moe’s galley experience came in handy here. He set up a dish pan on the counter, secured to the wall, that served as a great place to put items in active use. Even that had to be watched, though. If an item was placed in the pan alone, the sea would toss it about. We had to make sure there were enough items in the pan to prevent movement. On especially rough days, I had a belt that secured me to the stove. There was more than one time I was glad to have been held from being tossed mercilessly across the galley to the chart table. Moe also devised a spring across the counter face from the sink to the port side wall. This was handy for holding our water bottles. It kept my tea bottle still, and away from me, while I poured boiling water. I learned to walk very cautiously, often using the athlete’s stance to recover my balance. I looked like a toddler learning to walk. And always, always, have at least one hand on a secure point before taking a step to reach out for the next handhold. Movement became slow and careful. I learned the pattern of the waves. Roll to port, roll to starboard for a number of rolls; take a couple giant rolls, one to port, one to starboard, coast for a few seconds; repeat. Of course, it was never that consistent but I’d call it a general pattern.

One night as I was coming off watch in the dark, a thread from my toque caught on the hook of my earring as I pulled the toque off. I sat on the bench to detach the thread. A big roller came by unceremoniously dumping me right onto the floor! There, I realized the earring and toque would not part without removal of the earring from my ear. I had put a rubber stopper on the hook of the earring to prevent losing it. Do you think that would move? Nope. Now what to do? I have the toque dangling from my ear, I’m on my butt on the floor, the sea is getting great amusement by rolling the boat and me around. I’m stuck. In the dark to boot. Then I remember the eraser on the table! Thank goodness for my OCD ways. I reach up to where it should be and grab it. I use it as a base, kind of like a thimble, and push the hook on it for stability and finally I’m able to get the rubber stopper off and the earring out of my ear. I laughed at the foibles of the sea all the way to my bunk!