Late Night Chat
24 July 2022
Annette
Late Night Chat
It's 12:30 am Mike is down below sleeping and I just finished yet another Hugh Grant chick flick. Same character different love interest, all disgustingly sappy. When I switch the computer back to the electronic chart to check on our position, I am startled to see a bright red AIS tracking line headed right in our direction. It's a cargo ship from Vietnam the Ho Chi Minh City, 17 miles southeast of us, traveling at 19.3 knots, with a CPA of 5 miles in 55 minutes. All of the sudden I felt like we were a sitting duck. We were under full sails, poking along at 3-4 knots sailing with the wind angle of 90 degrees. The true wind angle was fluttering between 100 and 120 degrees making our course to look like a drunken sailor walking the plank. What if our AIS signal wasn't broadcasting? What if the captain of the ship was sleeping or playing video games? These are the first thoughts that come to my mind. I turned on our bright foredeck light to illuminate the boat and make it more visible. I turned on our radar to make sure the AIS was accurate and I turned on the VHF radio in case I needed to call and wake them up. I could see the ship light up behind us, the green running light was where it should be indicating it would pass from the starboard side behind us.
As I watched and waited the ship seemed to be moving a lot faster then the CPA calculated. With in 15 minutes it was 7nm away but remaining steady on it's course.
Then a call comes in on the radio. "Rum Doxy, this is Ho Chi Minh City on channel 16, do you copy?" "This is Rum Doxy on Channel 16", I answer back. "Switch to channel 06," he says. So we meet on channel 06. "Rum Doxy, This is Ho Chi Minh City how are you doing tonight?", he asked in a very heavy accent. "We're doing really well, thank you for asking, over", I reply. "You are a sailing boat on a Pacific Adventure?", he asks. I answer, "Yes we are a sailing boat heading to the Marquesas from Chile, over". "You are very brave", he replies. "You are from America, where in America?", he asks? "Santa Barbara, California", I say. "I've been to California many times", he replies. Then abruptly he announces he is switching back to channel 16. I sign out, then 5 minutes later the radio sounds. "Rum Doxy, this is HoChiMinh City, I have question", he asks "How do you have food and water on boat for long time?" I tell him we have a water maker to desalinate salt water for drinking water, that we have a freezer and refrigerator for fresh food and lots of storage for canned and dry goods. I tell him we have plenty of Oreo's, avocados and beer and that we are doing fine. "Very good", he responds, "Ho Chi Minh City back to channel 16, copy?" "Copy", I reply, "but before you sign off I just want to tell you that it was a pleasure to talk with you, and as a small sailing vessel we really appreciate you making contact with us so we know that you have us in your sight. I also want to tell you that you speak English really well. Have a good night, Rum Doxy back to channel 16, over.
I get really nervous talking on the radio. I'm always at a loss for words and forget radio etiquette but last night with no one else around, talking with the on-watch officer of the ship, who was genuinely interested in us, was a lot of fun. And, knowing that he saw us on AIS took all my stress away. After the ship passed I turned off the foredeck light and the radar, then checked our course. While we were having our little chat the wind angle switched again, so I turned the foredeck light back on to trim the sails. Off in the distance I saw the ship light up like a cruise ship. His signal," Good Night, and Farewell". I trimmed the sails then turned off the deck light and as soon as I did so the ship went dark. In the middle of the night, out in the open ocean I made a new friend and it touched my heart.
Later, after all that excitement I'm wide awake and ponder what to do in the last hour of my shift, then I hear a Slap, Skitter, Flop, Flop, Flop on the cabin floor. What the heck? I turn on the lights and find that a flying fish has managed to slip through a 2 inch opening in the cabin top hatch. What are the chances? Using a dish towel I grab it's spastic little body and threw it back overboard. No need to ponder any longer, the last hour of my shift I spent washing the floor and vacuuming all the fish scales off the cushions and rugs.