While I’m sure it is not unique to my current situation, being underway certainly makes me reflect on both my own mortality and those around me.
Prior to departing the UK, we had received an email from dear friends reporting an accident they had at sea. Luckily, no lives were lost, nor damage to the vessel, but the captain was severely injured, and had to be rescued at sea via a helicopter evac from a marine patrol ship. It was just husband and wife aboard. Holy crap. The first mate (wife), also a medical doctor, provided exceptional emergency care, and with the help of the marine patrol, brought the vessel safely to shore. She is a bad-ass heroine, who also makes the best homemade chocolate birthday cake.
A cascade of events, while occurring independently would be harmless, but strung together in a nanosecond, resulted in our friend’s accident. We are so glad he will recover, although with permanent injuries. After hearing what happened, I couldn’t sleep – kept running through the scenario in my head. What would I have done? How would I have reacted? Would I be able to keep my shit together in a similar situation? Our friend’s story provided a good reminder of how dangerous it can be out here, and the need to be ever vigilant in consistently following protocol, regardless of weather, exhaustion, boredom, or in my case, laziness.
Cut to our passage south from Brighton, UK to Lagos, Portugal. I had been working on another post about provisioning for this type of passage (Zzzzz, boring) – but my mood yesterday changed my mind. Perhaps it is the normal evolution of Day 5 on passage, after living on a boat for almost a year with four boys. After a while you just want to kill somebody – usually that emotion is suppressed by normal human interaction, sleeping in intervals greater than three hours, and pooping daily. Obviously, I didn’t have any of those things going for me.
The first few days of our trip were really great. Our departure date was in constant flux, as weather this time of year crossing the Bay of Biscay can be a real bitch. To get the timing right, we would have to leave while the weather was crappy in the UK, to ensure we would not get twisted around the axel in the bay. Take your lumps early. We set out upwind in confused seas, 25kts of wind on a close haul in the late afternoon. The kind of grey, cold, wetness that seeps into your soul: Perfect British sailing weather! Ahab was a real sport, and stayed topside with me during my 11pm-3am shift due to the rough conditions, and the fact that we were hauling along at 9-10kts. I knew it was coming. Once it starts, there really isn’t much you can do to avoid it. Pills, patches, water, ginger ale, transcendental meditation – nope, not a chance, forget it. Luckily, I had my foul weather gear on, and was able to clip into the jack lines astern on salty soggy cushions. The sideways rain and waves running down the decks were enough the rinse away the puke, but did nothing to help my belly twisting dry heaves. I love sailing! Yeah! This is fun. Perhaps that was the inception point for my murderous mood.
After the first couple days, the ten pre-made ham sandwiches and stash of granola bars were long gone, and my nausea was reduced to manageable levels. Then the bickering began. Usually the boys all get along moderately well for tweens living in close proximity. However, just like any family stuck inside for one too many days, patience begins to run thin and excess energy needs an outlet. Luckily by this point, I was moderately sleep deprived and uncomfortably constipated. After listening to certain young men debate the merits of watching the entire first season of “Lost” serially versus savoring just two episodes a day, I pulled the electronics plug – and sent them below to the port side pontoon.
“But Mom, we didn’t vote for that!”, pleaded David.
“When,” I countered, “has this ever been a democracy? Beat it.”
Then the wrestling begins. They are loud enough to begin with, but when they start “tasing” each other, it sounds like hyenas giving birth to quadruplets while being strangled. Nerves frayed. Good thing though that they were video taping themselves, so we could listen to torture sessions over and over and over again. I wish I had a real taser. That is definitely going my Xmas wish list.
After the boys were bored with strangling one another, and having me growl at them, I decided to put on a happy face, make guacamole (always a crowd pleaser), and bring out some novelty games I had stashed for just such an occasion. Today’s Boat School Physical Education, besides wrestling and the dark arts, would be “Juggling with Scarves” and “Belly Dancing”. This may sound ridiculous, and I assure you it was, but learning to juggle with scarves is a lot easier and less likely to break stuff, than say “Juggling with Knives” or “Juggling with Chainsaws”. David was really starting to get the hang of it, until they somehow managed to get guacamole all over the scarves. At least they weren’t wiping their mouths on my pillows anymore.
The Belly Dancing kit did not come with any fancy video, like the juggling. This was quite unfortunate. However,it did come with two pairs of finger symbols. Needless to say, there were not a lot of hip circles happening in the salon. I should have put on some better music. Gordon, bless his heart, quickly decided that the finger symbols bore a striking resemblance to miniature defibulators.
“Crank it up to 400! Clear!”
Good Lord. Luckily they began to lose interest before hooking up the symbols to a 9volt battery with a roll of duck tape and stripped copper wires. Regular team of MacGuyvers out here. Electrocution avoided. Check.
After a lovely Taco Tuesday Dinner (on Saturday) served with the remaining guacamole reclaimed from the juggling scarves, dishes were done, and William cleaned the floors. Peace. At. Last. I was off duty until my 11pm shift started, so I took a long overdue hot shower (yeah Generator!), and crawled into my bunk for four hours of glorious sleep. Waking up at 10:45pm at night to start the mid-watch is not all that glamourous. I know it sounds awesome, but trust me, it’s not. Ahab was all business during the turn over.
“No contacts on AIS, nothing on the radar, running starboard engine at 2000rpm, heading 180 degrees, slight current against us, visibility beginning to diminish. Get me up if you need anything.”
He’s such a romantic.
I had a totally uneventful shift. Calm seas, a little current pushing us off course was easily seen and corrected. No contacts on AIS or radar to avoid. The fog got worse, and visibility was reduced to only 50-60 meters, but we were offshore and out of the shipping lanes. I managed to score over 7000 on solitaire and finally beat the cheating computer in backgammon. When Ahab arrived to take over for his 3am shift, I was all too happy to don my jammies and snuggle up under the covers. Easy peasey night.
So I thought.
Just as I pushed through the first layer of sleep and stopped stepping off the curb in that half dream state, Ahab thumped downstairs and turned on the lights. No, no, no!
“Get up. Put on your foul weather gear. I need you to stay up on deck until this fog clears.”
“Wahhhh????” Please let this just be a bad dream. If I don’t open my eyes, maybe he’ll think I’m still sleeping, or dead, and I won’t have to leave my cocoon.
“Ali – Get Up. Let’s go.”
“Uggggh.”
So the jammies come off,jogbra goes back on, followed by tanktop, too tight foul weather pants, sweatshirt, jacket, wool socks, sneakers, fleece hat, lifejacket with harness, and hateful attitude. I managed to get us through the last four hours without crashing into anything. What’s was his problem?
“One of us needs to clip in forward, with a radio and spotlight, listening for small fishing boats. The other will stay in here in the helm station,” barked Ahab.
“Fine. Which do you want me to do?” I hissed.
“Well, are you going to maneuver the boat when we come right up on some small vessel?”
“Ssssssss….Fine, I’ll go forward.”
“Great.” Ahab said, relieved that I didn’t stab him with the daggers I was shooting at him from my cold black eyeballs. “Can you make me some coffee before you go? I don’t want to leave the helm in case there is a boat that pops up.”
Count to ten. Deep breath. “Yes dear.”
After serving him a nice hot cup of (fill in the blank, BabyD!) day old coffee, that I can proudly say I did not spit in, I trudged forward with radio and spotlight in hand,found my seat, and clipped in the lifelines. The fog was pea soup’s colder and wetter version. There was nothing out here, nor had there been for hours. Yet here I sat shivering, thinking angry hateful thoughts. Ahab had insisted that I take a handheld VHF out with me so we could communicate the twelve feet between us. I had a few ideas on some communicating of my own.
Over the radio, “Now Ali, I might blow the horn, if I see anything on the radar. Don’t freak out and drop the spotlight in the water.”
“Roger that, Sugarlumps.”
The fog was now joined by a growing mist, so that I was covered in a sheen mixture of saltwater, condensation, and vengeance.
I think Ahab was beginning to accept the reality that I was not overly pleased with his management decision to drag me out of bed into this cold weary version of hell. “Hey Hun,” he chirped over the radio, “I’m going to head offshore a bit to make sure we avoid any unseen fishing boats.”
“Roger that Captain, but don’t you think it’s much more likely you’ll die from me poisoning your food, rather than us running into a random skiff?”
Whaddaya know? Old Ahab quickly decided we were in fact far enough offshore that the only vessels would be easily seen by AIS or radar. My echolocation services on the forward deck were no longer required. Without additional comment from me, I was relegated to inside watch on the couch until sunrise. Upon daybreak, I was completely relieved of duty and allowed to sleep in, uninterrupted, until a mind boggling 10am.
Tags: Belly Dancing, PoisonWe managed to make it through another day at sea without any real incidents of poisoning, strangulation, or electrocution. The sea can be a dangerous place, and safety procedures are of the utmost importance. Don’t tell Ahab, but he was most likely not totally in the wrong (…can’t…say…other…word…rii…riiigghh…..right). The simple safety procedures for operating in limited visibility most likely will result in nothing. And that’s a good thing. Just like a perfect superhero, or insurance policy, you generally only notice when things go wrong.
That being said, Ahab did look a little nervous this morning when I handed him a nice hot cuppa coffee with a twinkle in my eye.
Oh dear! Love you guys and ALWAYS thinking of your safety. Xoxo
INCREDIBLE. These are all going in a book when you are done. That’s all. Oh and I love you and hope you have both feet on solid ground in Spain right now! XOXOXOXO
Actually statistically the largest number of accidents at sea on small vessels result from burns while cooking…and by my observation, unwanted pregnancies( the birth control pills go down the scuppers in rough seas.) These usually happen to the second mate, obviously, so be careful out there!
Another tip….we had an incident where my husband got a staff infection from a fish hook. Red streaks running up his leg, the whole nine yards. He started on antibiotics, but they were ineffective. Turns out antibiotics have a short shelf life and need to be refrigerated (we didn’t have refrigeration) so watch the dates on the bottles and in the tropics, keep em cool……
Oh Ali this is the best one yet! I’m so so sorry about your friends and their captain. There was an angel on their shoulders for sure. One being the wife’s medical background, and the second is maybe the Angel that sits on YOUR shoulder that encouraged you to ask the “what would I do” question . File the answer away.
Now for the rest of the story- the fun,funny part . Gracie – it is spot on. Your humor and character development is awesome. Seriously, maybe you SHOUL write short stories…or long, …whatever. Love you❤️
Ali, your writing is entertaining to read. I feel like I am living every minute though it with you. Thank you for sharing. Can’t wait for the movie!!
Love it!!!
Oh Ali, You are a better woman, sailor, captain & writer than anyone I know! You need to write a book when you aren’t navigating, cooking or puking. These recounts of your adventure are truly hilarious and make my day! Love to you all. Stay safe & if a little spit comes out of your mouth, I wouldn’t blame you! Love,
Pammie XXOO
Ali, WOW, I love reading your adventures!!! You make it so real, that I truly believe I experienced them too.. Thanks for the laughs, and remember that they are your husband and children, before you throw them overboard! Just kidding!
Sailing seems like flying…hours of boredom interrupted by moments of terror…Gil
Hillarious Ali! I think you meant a nice cup of “I love you honey!” Something like that. Hope all is well. Peace!
Yeah…It was something alright!
Ali… soooo glad guyon married his match!! He would have been bored out of his gourd with a pushover love you, susan
Can’t wait until the book comes out! Living vicariously through you all!!! Holy Crap!!
Moved to a new office after Dr. Breiner retired. Come visit when you get back to the states. I’ll take care of your sun damage!!
Kathleen!
So great to hear from you. We are just finishing up our European Tour, and now heading into serious sun damage mode. You will most definitely have your work cut out for you. Hope all is going great in the new situation. See you Summer 2017! Ali & Guyon