Voyaging

Under the Chesapeake Bay Bridge,
the edge of my normal sailing adventures

I have a lot I want to say about the trip, but I don't know if my interest will sustain once I get home to my normal life, so here's a quick overview. 

The trip was fabulous, but not comfortable. I had moments of such joy to be there, doing what I was doing. I remembered often to be in the moment, using feeling my feet and hands as much touchstone. Then I would close my eyes and just feel - the wind, the movement of the boat, the heat of the sun or the breath of the wind. And listen - the creaking and wearing of the boat, the splash of the waves and our wake. Then I'd open my eyes and wonder at how lucky I was to be alive right then. 

We had what is known in the North Atlantic as light winds. The first day, we motored to Annapolis and then tacked into a wind from exactly the wrong direction until nearly nightfall. Each tack required extensive sail handling from the whole crew. The Captain prefers not to require the crew to do difficult sail handling, especially going aloft, in the dark. The wind was forecast to remain from the wrong direction, and be light besides, so the sails came down and the motor pushed us directly towards our destination. We motored for a whole day, to get all the way out of the Chesapeake Bay and into the ocean.

Me in charge at dawn

I could tell the difference in the swells almost immediately we were out in the full ocean. One person got sick quickly. I was very concerned about getting sick. I had medication, but I had tested it at home the week before and I was groggy for two full days after taking it, so it was only a last resort. I focused on what I could - drinking lots of water, being on deck rather than below as much as possible, and continuing to use my feet and hands as an anchor, any time my thoughts started me thinking I was going under. I never got sick. 

Well out into the ocean, we raised the sails, killed the engine, and steered for Bermuda. We started watchkeeping, with four hours on, four hours off, and another four hours off but designated "standby" if more people were needed. My watch was 4 - 8: that is 4 am to 8 am, followed by 4 pm to 8 pm. My watch consisted of the second mate, two deckhands, and another "guest crew" and me. (The other guest crew was also my roommate, with me in the bottom bunk and E. in the top bunk.) That cycle meant we rose in the dark and watched the stars fade away as the sun rose. Then, we took the deck in the heat of the afternoon, and before our watch was finished the sun set. I went to bed by 9 pm, and was up at 3:30 am. I found it necessary to doze during my time off in the middle of the day, exhausted even if we hadn't done much sail handling, just from being outside so much. 

My duties on watch, if there was no need to do any maneuvers (for four days we pretty much just held our course without major changes in the wind) consisted of steering the boat and "boat checks". (Once an hour, a series of specific checks for water in the bilges, and recording of electrical and mechanical gauges status, weather and position. This required up and down a series of ladders to move between different parts of the boat below decks.) Fairly quickly, they stopped having a regular crew member look over my shoulder to ensure I was steering correctly - just popping back every now and then to make sure both the boat and I were doing well. There were moments - brief ones, but still - when I was was the only person on deck. Boat checks were what I did when not steering. That took longer to be allowed to solo, but finally I was trusted - and it was a genuine boon to the crew. The professional crewmembers almost always had other projects to carry out during watch, maintenance items, fixing things, practising their celestial navigation. 

Off watch, I ate (never have I been with people eating so much so fast with so little conversation!), read, hung out on deck just looking, and dozed both on deck and below in my bunk. 

I said it wasn't comfortable. Below decks, and especially my cabin, were stuffy and warm. The bunk is hard, and there is no room to sit - in fact, the first three days I repeatedly whacked my head on the upper bunk. There is a big table in the main salon with benches for meals - one side just wood with no back, the side built into the hull padded with a back. On deck, there are no seats, just perches of varying levels of discomfort. Shade was cast by the sails, at least, and all of us would try to find a place to sit where maybe we could lean against something that wouldn't move. The boat was heeled over for most of the trip in the right direction that in my bunk I was rolled against the hull, not out onto the deck, luckily. I found, at night, the motion and noise of the boat comforting, but my knees and back were feeling the unaccustomed strain and sometimes it was hard to find a comfy position. 

By design, we arrived off Bermuda just before sunrise, so the sails could come down in the daylight. We motored through a very narrow passage into a very big bay, and docked at a wharf. Then, we waited for 26 hours to get our arrival Covid tests. (This is very unusual, not sure why such a screwup.) We were technically confined to the wharf (several of us got off and walked a very little bit, sitting on benches in the public square). I was supposed to go to my Airbnb last night, but had to wait until after the test, at noon today. 

While waiting that first day, the boat was in full sun, with no shade, and I was getting a little cranky. The Mate had the crew put up the canopy to cover some of the deck, and set a large number of maintenance tasks for the crew. Then he declared a swim break, and most people jumped off the boat and into the (clean) harbor. It was fun to watch the young people really skylark around. Some of the other guest crew bent the rules the tiniest bit, and as it got dark unveiled their clandestine purchase of enough cold beer for everyone to have one, and the night turned into a party. There were guitars and ukeleles and a great deal of singing.

The little bit of Bermuda I saw was cute!

Now, I'm ensconsed at my very comfortable Airbnb, a half hour taxi ride from the ship. My host ordered a taxi for tomorrow, with directions on the scenic route to the airport. I had a wonderful shower, put on almost-clean clothes, rinsed and dried in the sun my trousers for tomorrow's flight, and did some quick sorting of pictures, tried to nap, and am now sitting in a very comfy soft chair with a back writing this on my ipad. I'll walk into town to get a sandwich and a beer in a few moments, if I'm adventurous, I might take a ferry ride. The room is still bobbing up and down a little bit, but not as badly as I thought it might. Home tomorrow! 

 

Updated for format and grammar