January 8, 2012

Most people assume when I tell them that I’m a sailor that I don’t get sea-sick.  They smile and give a knowing nod, implying that we are members of the same exclusive club. We have pity on the others, but we have a little disgust for them too.

Yesterday was the third day of our voyage, and keeping with the pattern, we were greeted with some new weather. Yesterday we were becalmed.

If you’ve read any of the Patrick O’Brien novels, then you probably know something of the dreaded “horse latitudes” or the doldrums…those areas of the world’s oceans known for their stillness, their lack of wind. There are many reasons that sailors fear being becalmed: running out of food, water and fuel; the heat; boredom; madness. Being relatively sure that we are not at risk to these, my main apprehension when it comes to sitting on a rolling sea without any wind to drive us through the water, is sea-sickness.

I often get sea-sick at the beginning of an ocean voyage, when the plunging of the hull through the chop gets into my inner ear and causes a scene. Fortunately, my sea-sickness has never been violent or uncontrollable, and I am a firm believer that sea-sickness is truly psychosomatic. I’ve had enough experiences of feeling queasy to the point of dry mouth, only to be pulled to an urgent job, and not realize that my nausea had disappeared until a half-hour later. So when someone makes the presumption that I’m immune, and gives the knowing nod, I always say “No, actually I do get sea-sick. I’m just stubborn, too.”

I contemplated my next move while the sun set

I have to say though, that yesterday was bad. I say yesterday of course because I wouldn’t have dreamed of writing until today. Yesterday I spent a lot of time trying to distract myself, staring at the horizon, looking for odd jobs to do, comforting others who were feeling sea-sick. I skipped a delicious lunch, and drank broth instead. Even after the wind filled back in, my queasiness continued.

I had a lucky break during my afternoon watch when I got put at the wheel. When I say that distracting yourself with an important task works, I mean it. Concentrating off on the distance, and constantly focusing on wind direction and heading made me feel better than anything I’d done. When it came to the end of my watch, I begged the next watch to let me stay on the wheel. When they finally kicked me off an hour later, it all came back, dammit.

As the sun set and I was trying to decide what to do, my lovely bunk-mate Sian strolled by and relayed a message from the cook, our other bunk-mate, that I wasn’t to come to bed unless I was 100% feeling well. She paused for a minute, narrowed her eyes at me slightly, and walked away.

So, I spent last night on deck, sleeping underneath the stars, wrapped up in my foul-weather gear, two hats, my beloved fuzzy lobster gloves, with my travel pillow beneath my neck. The wind was blowing and the ship was pitching with a slightly confused sea. Not quite as nice as my deck-nap the day before, but I don’t blame Sian or Jan at all. It’s just part of this life. At midnight my watch came on again, and thank god, we anchored. Four hours later I was down below getting some much deserved, and much-needed sleep.