4/18
The past few weeks we have fallen into relatively predictable routine with everything. The charter business has been humming along steadily and is almost finished. I am becoming a more capable sailor each day. Climbing and working aloft is a pleasure now, and no longer a test of nerve and will like it used to be. I still have a lot to learn and still seem to have little brain farts more frequently than I would like (about one or two a day), but I feel pretty confident of my ability on deck and aloft. Hopefully the passage to South Carolina brings with it opportunities to learn more of the finer arts of sailing like navigation, particularly celestial navigation. The mate assured me I would get all the lessons I could handle.
A few days ago we had two new crew additions come aboard: puppies. Two of our crew members found them abandoned near a bar and after asking everyone around they decided that the pups were homeless and brought them aboard – with captain’s permission of course. After a couple days we finally decided on names. The white one, a girl, is named Foxy, and the spotted one, a boy, is named Louie.
Foxy looked pretty rough the first day, and we are pretty sure she has worms so a trip to the vet will happen by the end of the week. That first night she trembled and shook so bad she spent most of her time curled up, managing a few wobbly steps here and there. With each day she has been getting better and is now as sweet and curious and playful as a puppy should be.
It is funny to see the whole crew gather around and watch them play, mesmerized. Whenever they do any little thing right, we all cry out with a collective “hooray!”
The puppies stop what they are doing and give us a funny look, mirroring the captain, who sticks his head in from time to time, equal parts amused and impartial.
Today, though, was probably the most difficult day so far. We were all on very little sleep, spent most of our day idly standing by (one of the best ways I have found to manipulate the space-time continuum and bring all time to a near standstill), and it was one of the hottest days so far, no thanks to an absent breeze that left the air heavy and stagnant. When we weren’t idle we were hauling on the windlass, the giant hand crank that raises the anchor. My head wasn’t with me on the ship. The idle time and general, sweaty discomfort led my mind to wander to other things, writing projects and scripts in particular. I was wishing for nothing more than some lemonade and an internet connection to send queries and do some publication research, something I need to do very badly.
But all that changed when we went for a sunset sail. Working aloft was exactly what I needed, and when the call came to loose all sails I shot up to the top and laid on to the royal. Being up there changed the whole complexion of the day. The air was cooler, the view spectacular, and we were escorted by the playful presence of dolphins. Dolphins have been showing up fairly regularly, about once every three days or so, but these were the best yet. They were jumping clear out of the water, with their tails shaking back and forth as if they were trying to swim up into the sky, drawing ooh’s and aah’s and applause from all of us that had the puppies and captain wondering who had pooped on newspaper. I began to remember why I loved being out here so much.
Later on, after the sun had set, we went up to stow the royals and t’gallants. As a crewmate and I were stowing the royal the ship came under some squally clouds and a fresh rain began falling, pouring down for the next 90 minutes. It was a warm tropical rain, but with the sun down, and all of us sticky with sweat and grime, it was about the most refreshing experience I can ever recall having. Almost none of the crew donned foul weather gear, preferring instead to take off our shirts and soak up as much as possible.
It’s a unique feeling, being out in rain and doing nothing to avoid it. The last time for me was in Costa Rica, on a hike through the cloud forest. It’s a very elemental thing, to allow yourself to be rained on like that. I remember sitting on a boulder in the middle of the river that ran through the Talemonca valley, getting soaked and not moving for nearly an hour. I felt a self awareness there that was at once powerful and clear, but at the same time impossible to fully articulate. I felt like I was like the boulder, a part of nature – a fact we so often take for granted or avoid. The same thing tonight. I felt like I was a part of the ship. It’s almost like a small forfeiture of individual identity. Like I said, it’s hard to explain (especially without sounding to clichéd or Al Gore-ish). The main thing is thought that it was refreshing, physically and mentally.
Plus the puppies are really really cute.
