Out on the Pacific, Part 2 of 3

The stories from the second half of the trip are considerably longer, so I have split them up once more. Here's some of the best—

7/9/09 – 17:51 – quarter deck

Just got back from going aloft! A bunch of the A-Watch girls and I went up to the foretop (a small platform above the course yard on the foremast, not to be confused with a crow’s nest, which is sheltered and usually on the mainmast, and which we don’t have), and took turns climbing up to the very top. We spent about an hour out there, taking in the view, sighting plastic, singing and yarning. It’s obvious why there’s a sailing tradition of yarning up in the yards! We couldn’t actually go out on the yards this time, however, because we have all the squares and the Rafee set, which comes out in a light running wind. Even though we’re not going very fast, we look fantastic.

It’s just incredible how much plastic there is out here. And even if it’s not the solid island of garbage that Charles Moore and Oprah try to portray, it’s still disgusting.

I am going to miss this so much. This is an experience everyone should have. The skills I’ve learned—community before self, the courage to make friends with new people right away, awareness of my environment, the ability to exist completely in the moment—all these I have picked up in such a short time, out on a tall ship in the middle of the ocean.

7/11/09 – 13:45 – quarter deck

We played a game called fax machine at our last watch meeting with Nick and Rachel. I tried to write the start of a murder mystery and it turned into something about Zack clogging the head and Carolyn having to deal with it.

JWO (Junior Watch Officer) phase starts this evening with Sam in charge of deck and me in charge of lab.

7/12/09 – 19:21 – library

We were sitting up on the quarterdeck — me with my fiddle, Madelyn with her guitar, Kat Caroline, and Landes — having a singing party. We were alternating between singing sea shanties a cappella and jamming on some nice folk tunes. As we were singing a sweet harmony of “Leave her Johnny, Leave her,” Capt. Chris came up on deck and joined us in song. At the end, and it was a long shanty, he told us, “Very nice,” and we segued into “Haul Away Joe.”

Half way through the first verse he yanked the life ring pole out of the port side and chucked it out to sea. Landes was the quickest to react, jumping up and yelling “Man Overboard!” We quickly joined in the pointing and shouting, then Kat disappeared, Madelyn dropped the guitar and went up in the shrouds, and Caroline made for the rescue boat. I was still holding my bow and fiddle, trying to decide in those first few seconds whether I could delay doing my job long enough to put my fiddle in its case. On the one hand, it was just a drill, and if I just set my fiddle down it was bound to get broken or lost in the frenzy on deck of getting the ship stopped and the rescue boat deployed. On the other hand, it’s imperative to treat drills like the real thing, and a person in the water is far more important than my instrument.

I agonized for several very long seconds, then stored my bow and fiddle in the case as fast as I could, skipping the neck strap and not bothering to zip the outside, and I left it by the laz hatch right where I had been standing. I then saw where Kat, Madelyn, and Caroline really were—trying to get the starboard side life ring and pole into the water. Noting Andrew going for a life vest, I decided to do the same, and as he tossed his off port I tossed mine off starboard. Nick gave me an exasperated look. I then went straight for the rescue boat, and everyone who had been below was just arriving. Poor Pamela, who goes out in the rescue boat with Adam, had been in bed under a down comforter. When she came up she was just in shorts and a tank top with a rubber jacket. Needless to say, at dinner that evening she was in full cold weather gear!

The rest of the drill went really smoothly, the best yet, and no one ever noticed my poor little fiddle.

We had our first big JWO stare this morning (head back, mouth open, vacant eyes aimed at the sails, silence). A good twenty minutes with all of us trying to figure out what on earth was wrong with the Fish. Good times.

I cannot start an outboard motor.

Note to certain other students: No futzing around in the engine room when you’re supposed to be at Maritime Studies discussion.

A cute moment which is now written up on the saloon white board: last night when we pulled up the hydrocast, we (Giora, Murph, me, Talia, and Zack) decided at Giora’s prompting to test the temperature of each water depth in the different bottles, trying to “feel” where the thermocline was. We had a little too much fun. Here’s what on the board—

Excited student at Carousel:
Carolyn: It’s just water, do they know it’s just water?
Lil: Shhh don’t tell them, they might freak out!

7/14/09 – 17:24 – saloon

Yesterday I experienced the most intense watch ever. I was in lab for afternoon, but we were called to deck after class. Bryce was calling the shots, which was odd because Jon was JWO. He had us get our tethers from the lab, and then explained what we had in store. Now that we are in the California Current the winds have picked way up, and NOAA was forecasting gales. As we were the on-duty watch, we needed to storm furl the squares’ls so they wouldn’t come loose from their brails and blow out to leeward. At our watch mtg that morning Zora had said she still wanted to go aloft, and now we were being sent up, not to the platform of the foretop but along the mast itself, in near gale force winds. But we were excited to do it.

Ian and Murph went up to the tops’l yard (where there are footl’ns and a yard to lean on!) and Zora and I had the next spot down, with me to leeward. It turned out to be one of the scariest things I have ever done. We clipped in a couple rungs up, but it was too low to actually hang by the harness. So we held on with one arm, mine outstretched, Zora clutching the opposite rung at chest height, and attempted to work the sail with one hand each. I quickly found I had chosen the worse side, for with my feet barely planted on one narrow rung and my weight supported by one hand, I swung wildly from side to side, hanging below the keeled mast. Our hands grew weak as we shook feebly at the sail, trying desperately to work the center skin outboard.

Suddenly we heard someone sing out “Whale!” We paused for a moment, then Ian called from above, “There she blows!” The deck was quickly a frenzy of sailors trying to reach the port bow to get a peak. I shifted my grip and swung around the tops’l to see, and there was the giant spout, less than two miles off. But she held little excitement for me, as I was still unconvinced I would survive this furl. But lo when the topsail was furled, Bryce had Zora and I return to deck to work the brails so we could rest our hands. We made it down safely, and carried out the rest of the storm furling with ease. I could barely feel my arms by the end of it!