Seasickness, Dolphins and Fluorescent Algae
The first three days seemed to be an eternity. And they weren’t even three full days.
Most of us got seasick, those who didn’t took over kitchen duty and basically did everything. The rest of us tried to drag ourselves around the ship without constantly hanging over the rails. We held a puking contest (“Kotskontest” or “Kotstest”), number one being 21 times. My seasickness ended just after lunch on the 22nd, and I do believe I have found the way to happiness. You see, puking offers a temporary relief, and either laying your head down on the table or sleeping (or a combination of the both during watch, and then even the captain can’t wake you up for a while) keeps the worst away. But absolutely the best is when it’s simply all over. You walk through the hall without almost throwing up straight away. You move with the ship like a pro, without falling about as if you’re totally drunk. Yes, you can even read, without the world starting to swim before your eyes. The smallest things make you happy, like a bottle full of normal water from which you take tiny sips, because, seriously, ever tasted water from a water machine that hopelessly tries to un-salt seawater? One word: Ugh. Or the warm lunch that tastes like a king’s banquet right after your watch. Seriously, we eat good food. And sleep, oh dear sleep.
The first three days consisted out of being woken up at 09.40, getting up 09.50-55, grabbing a sandwich, trying to find my sailing suit (in vain), getting to watch by 09.59 (or not), cleaning toilets and filling in the logbook during watch, having lunch, going to sleep. Eat. Sleep. Watch. Repeat. On Sunday the watches became four hours, mine from nine to one. Sunday also means big cleanup. I did a lot of windows and scrubbed the deck, before going to bed again. I woke to everything moving, and decided to go upstairs. Everything was falling and rolling around, windows were being hastily closed. They forgot the toilet windows. Yes. Whilst I was being pleasantly covered in sea water something crashed. The kitchen smelled like balsamico for days. Someone was so unfortunate as to open the door at precisely the wrong moment, causing part of the sea to move to the salon floor. Ah, dear life. I just put on my sailing suit and joined the crowd on the middle deck, watching the waves roll over it.
Life went on to Monday evening, when the first dolphins were spotted in the channel. We’ve seen many since then, the jib net being a perfect spot from which to watch them.
The Bay of Biscay was surprisingly calm, which was nice, as school started on Thursday (my group on Friday). The schooldays are long, but you can do a lot in that time. Like plank- and squat challenges between meals, twice a day. Bring Sally up, bring Sally down, [something][something] around. I can dream that song now. And plank for the full four minutes.
Around Spain the weather got steadily warmer. First the sailing trousers were no longer needed, then the jackets. Spain and then Portugal were a welcome sight after seeing mostly sea and fishing boats. Ah, and that smell of pine that reminds me of Portofino.
That watch, on Saturday (29-10), I, ah, well. The wind dropped, and the bow started to slowly drift to starboard, so I steered to port, perhaps 10 degrees. Nothing happened, so 20. When still nothing happened I asked the 2nd mate to have a look. He said try 30 to port. Ok. 40. Nothing happened for about ten minutes. The teachers and crew went into the wheel house for their daily meeting. And a gust of wind sent us turning. I alerted the crew and turned the helm back to starboard as fast as I could. We kept turning, the bow was pointing at Lisbon at this point. The crew did nothing. We kept turning, until we’d gone from 230° (the course was 180°) to 115°. Meaning slightly further than pointing straight at Portugal. I got her back to 133°, but the next watch turned the whole ship around. When the meeting was finally over Sam turned on the motor and we were off again. And now, every time we’re only slightly off course, “Oh, India must be at the helm.” I’m never going to get rid of that one.
Tip: be careful around (steep) stairs. Especially when your hands are full of washing and you can’t stop yourself from falling all the way from the top to the bottom. Unless you want the whole back of your arm to be bruised and have red stripes everywhere, of course.
All of this was forgotten when the wind stillness came to our benefit, next to Morocco: on the first of November(!), we were allowed to swim in an ocean that was so calm it reflected the stars that night. Jumping off the tip of the bowsprit or from halfway up the mast, or perhaps swinging from the jibnet. One large, 4000m deep, private swimming pool. And back home it was wet and freezing, everyone at work or school. Wonderful.
Those of you that have sailed on the sea probably know of a beautiful thing that occurs at night: fluorescent algae, dug up by the bow cutting through the waves. Sometimes the size of golf balls, sometimes marbles, little bundles of light dancing through the waves. I can only wonder what the sailors thought of it back in the old days. To us, at least, it is magical.
The bell gets rung pretty often. Wet towels, left in a cupboard to rot (mmm bacteria), or perhaps someone throwing sweets from the mast. But also good things, like the announcement that Tenerife was really close, and the first person to spot the Teide would get sweets. I don’t believe anyone did. What does it matter? We got there in twelve days, when twenty-two were planned. Pretty good, right?
Before I end this newsletter I’d like to apologise for the lateness of my updates. I found out that updating from libraries with weird computers and your phone doesn’t really work, so I’m now sending everything to my dad. I’ve told him how to do it, but you never know. If something’s wrong, you’ll know who to blame :)
Note from Big Daddy, the new editor : I have no idea how to operate this program, nor as yet how to import photos...(I'll keep trying). So sorry. At the time of writing (4 December), the Regina Maris has already been in the Cape Verde Islands (blog post to follow) & is now about a third of the way across the Atlantic Ocean, en route for the Iles des Saintes in the French Antilles, after which they hop across to Dominica and a 5 day jungle expedition. Having spoken to India a few times, I can tell you she is LOVING it & the kids seem to have all formed an incredible, close-knit bond. Thank-you so much again to everyone who helped to make this amazing trip possible.
I may have to wait till I next speak to India in 10 days or so to work out how to get the photos from her camera to this blog... until then...
Aha ! After losing all the text and redoing the whole, darned post, I think we have two images...
(will request images of people as well as dolphins !). Now going to try to send...
