More Dolphins and New Shipmates

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.

3/23/07
We have been getting to have little morning sails almost every day. Today we woke at seven, ate a quick breakfast, and set sail. The trades cooperated nearly perfectly, lulling only once, and briefly. I have an unofficial post I’ve adopted when we’re underway. I lean over the rail at the foredeck, arms crossed, and lose myself in the seas.
I watch the waves roll and reach and foam and breach with valleys and peaks like a thousand mountain ranges being constantly raised up and then toppled over, new ridges pushing up to replace those that just fell.
It is hypnotizing. It gets harder each day to imagine myself living on dry land for too long.

3/25/07
Found out today that our hot dogs come from Haiti. Not good news regarding an already dubious meat.

3/29/07
Accomplishment: Today I was asked by the mate to go aloft by myself and furl the main royal, something I have never done alone before. Despite the sail being whipped around by the strong winds I did it, and it was one of my neater stows as well. The best part was when I came down. Nobody said anything. It was just expected of me to be able to do that. A minute later the mate came back to me and asked me to furl the gaff tops’le, something I have never done period, alone or not. I did it (alone) and came down to no fanfare.
It feels good to be in a place where I am pushed as hard as I push myself. I have become uneasy with accepting praise for doing what I was supposed to do. It has always left me feeling strange. Here, that doesn’t happen, though it is not because of callousness between crew. This crew is as tight a group of co-workers as I have ever come across. There is little bickering though there are many types of personalities, and it is easy to see that everyone genuinely cares for each other.

P.S. Saw a dolphin leap out of the water off our port quarter at about six this morning. Not more than 20 feet away. It was the perfect way to punctuate a morning that opened with a spectacular sunrise of pinks and purples and robin’s-egg clouds silhouetting the cliffs of the southern edge of the island. What a great job.

Rigging, Tubing, and Rope-Swinging

3/7
The past couple days of work have been great. We have been bending on sails (hooking them up to the rigging), and I have been learning a lot. Yesterday I spent over four hours aloft in the rigging, 3 1/2 of those coming on the topgallant yards, the second highest up on the masts, about 70 feet up.
Am I scared being that high up, standing on a rope, leaning over a pole and working with both my hands? You bet. It’s scary as hell. But after a while I grew used to it and it was then only slightly terrifying.
We have been downgraded from two days and on two days off, to one on and off because the schedule is getting tighter, and it is easier to keep the idle crew on stand by if they are only off one day. There may be a chance that once we start our day-sails and the charter really gets rolling we won’t have a day off for a month, which would really suck the life out of this blog. I wouldn’t be surprised either, because all of this off time is really unusual for ship life, and they may be giving it too us as a preemptive break. Who knows. The Picton Castle crew is largely in the dark regarding the details of the charter, as long as we know where we need to be and when we are good, and the next month will take care of itself.

Tubing:
Today we were given a free tubing expedition down the largest river in Dominica. It was a 6km trip, the weather was perfect, the rapids were fun, and the water felt fantastic.
However it was not without its kinks. First of all, the tubes we sat in did not lend themselves well to the human body. They were giant, over-inflated inner tubes with plywood fastened to the bottom to fend off rocks from unsuspecting tailbones, and hold in urine from unsuspecting ignoramuses (me). Your head and feet are exposed, sticking out of the center, and you end up looking like your back end got sucked up into a giant vacuum cleaner. Your arms are completely useless. They provide a paddle, but all it is good for is thrusting yourself into a vertigo-inducing spin. We ricocheted from rock to rock with our heads flopping against the tubes like old tits. Admittedly, I am not the most agile or dexterous member of the human race, but this was a new low in physical confusion for me. These tubes could render even the most graceful ungainly and awkward. Michelle Kwan could sit in one and she would instantly become George Costanza.
The main damper on the trip, though, was the group from the cruise ship that was with us. There were about 40 of them, and they were a classic display of what is known overseas as “the ugly American.” They were loud, obnoxious, drunk, vulgar, rude, and generally acted like they owned the gig. I wish we could have eliminated all the life-vests and river guides because it would have been a spectacular experiment in Darwinism.
Their ringleader, a doughy guy with squinty eyes, was singing songs with words like (this is not made up) “drunk drunk drunk drunk drunk drunk drunk,” discussing the genitalia of various animals and of his friends, and shouting to his sidekick, a slightly older version of himself but with a less stupid face, whom he warmly referred to as Captain Dumb-Ass. He did all this in what to him probably was his 12-inch voice but was in reality his 12-daiquiris voice. Later on I had the unique pleasure of floating next to him. He started talking to me about having kids, and how I was still young, but he waited till he was 27 to have kids and now he has four.
“I’m 37 now,” he informed me.
“Oh really,” I replied, “I would have never guessed it.” I rolled my eyes.
His face lit up. “Thanks!” he belched. He was genuinely flattered, if only erroneously, as his surprised humility regarding his looks—hairline, wrinkles, jowls and the like, had coupled with the month’s ration of alcohol he’d probably had for breakfast to prevent him from considering that not his boyish good looks but his behavior might be a more effective disguise for a man supposedly raising four children and nearing forty years old. Judging by his conduct alone one could have realistically pegged him between 21 and sophomore in high-school.
After the ride we all headed to the tube station to rinse off, pack up, and load back into our buses. I avoided the mob that had surrounded the bar, was slurping down all the complimentary rum punch and conveniently missing the giant red TIPS canister. Stupid-face saw me alone, assumed it was just some oversight of mine, and ambled over my way for another conversation. He asked me what I was going to do when I was done with all this sailing stuff, and was shocked when I said I may never be done with it. He figured I would naturally be itching to come back and start living the good life like him. It was a fantastic signal to me that I am right where I want to be.

3/9
Yesterday, more work aloft. This time we were on the royal, the topmost yard, about 80 feet high. I have learned a lot about what it takes to bend on sails, and feel fairly confident in my abilities to do so again with minimal direction. I have learned a lot about rigging in the past few days, but I still have a long way to go. Two percent may be double of one percent, but it is still not very much.
One of the crew members told me she was jealous that I got to help bend on sails, a job she claimed to absolutely love. I apologized, but I think her enthusiasm, while I admire it, can only be reconciled with rationality by attributing it to her being a bit of a brown-noser. Not to say she is, she may indeed love it as much as she claims. But I, in all my love of the sea, and sailing, and ship work, did not love it. I didn’t mind it, but I didn’t love it either. I would equate it to painting the house or mowing the lawn. I don’t especially love doing those things, though they aren’t bad and do have some enjoyable qualities, I love the results. I love having the ship ready to sail, and I put my best effort to help make her that way, but by no means was it an exercise in pure bliss, though the time did pass quickly.What I love is feeling the strain on the rigging, and the speed of the hull through the water kick up when you sheet in, trimming your sails tighter, grabbing the wind and really running with it. No exhaust fumes, no motors, just whistling wind and breaking seas. That is what I love. And I do whatever it takes to make that happen, including acrobatics 80 feet up.
This morning we heard on the radio a local debate that has the Dominican government at a standstill. There is heavy pressure from both sides as to whether or not they should approve the installation of an oil refinery on the island. On the one hand, it would create jobs and be a boost to the economy. On the other hand, it would likely hamper tourism and the locals wouldn’t be able to exclaim “Lovely Dominica” quite as enthusiastically as before. If you’ve ever driven past a town with oil refineries, you know what I am talking about. The air is green, and the town has a powerful stink. Not too many people would be interested in visiting Dominica when she has transformed herself from pristine and largely unindustrialized island with green jungles and beautiful coral reefs to a stinky, hazy island, largely skipped over by cruise ships and divers.
Plus, judging from how many refineries have been shutting down in Texas and so, added to the upswing in alternative fuels, and it looks to be a temporary economic solution at best. I have to think, that despite its positive side effects, brining money into the economy and creating more jobs, it doesn’t seem worth the environmental impact and I’m not convinced that it will still be a booming business beyond 50 or so years. There has to be more creative ways of marketing the eco-tourism and relative un-commercialized feel of the island to create those same jobs and bring in that same money.
A lot of my thinking is shaped by comparing Nicaragua to Costa Rica. Nicaragua had the booming logging industry and such, and is now somewhat of a wasteland. Their neighbor, Costa Rica, stopped short of that industrialization, and catered to the eco-tourist, and has saved most their pristine jungles and wildlife and is a very popular location for adventurers and tourists. You can literally see the border between the two countries because on one side there is forest, and on the other side there is mud. Dominica seems to be facing a similar fork. (My two cents)
It’s interesting to hear about the local politics though. Not too different from what we hear in the states, either. Global warming, protecting the environment, and building economy at any cost—the blessings of civilization!
Also, continuing with the theme of Dominican current events, there has been a nasty little virus going around the island, and it has been ripping through the charter’s main offices downtown. We are working really hard to keep it off the ship, but it is tricky because the symptoms only show up AFTER you are contagious. It is airborne, also. It’s nothing too serious, but when the symptoms hit you are basically bed ridden with joint and muscle pain for two to four days.The funny thing about it is that it showed up on the island a couple weeks ago, coinciding with Venezuelan dictator, Hugo Chavez, who was visiting to build bonds between Dominica and warning them about evil dictatorships and empires. I assume he meant us, but he could have also been making a joke and referring back to himself as well. It’s funny though because Chavez is generally reviled in America and upon coming to Dominica, where he is welcomed in goodwill, he ends up making them sick too. He seems to have the same affect on enemies and allies alike. But then I suppose subtlety has never been a strength of his.

3/10
Today was a day for naturalists. This morning, while aloft furling sails, we saw a pod of dolphins come to check out the ship and they hung around for about an hour, playing, and even once leaping completely out of the water (Of course, that was only AFTER I had put away my camera). I took a dozen or so photos, but these are the best ones:

Then tonight at about seven o’clock I spotted in the black seas a huge school of small blue fish with one or two flashing white with electricity here and there, twisting and throbbing in a defensive maneuver. Sure enough, a few moments later, a massive fish, about four or five feet long, shot through the frenzied school and snatched a mouthful. I could see its counterparts circling below. It was a dance between predator and prey I had seen many times on the Discovery Channel, but seeing it in person was far more satisfying.
I also had my own personal encounter with the way of nature in the form of pecking orders. Today I had a few brain farts, nothing of consequence, just minor breaches in common sense. But I caught heat for it all. Not serious, but enough to know that I needed to do better, and was being watched. Though, rest assured, I didn’t do irreparable damage to my career. The first mate and I had a good laugh about it later on in the evening. I think those things are things that never stop, it’s just that as you put in more and more time, you have fewer and fewer people ready to come down on you for slight missteps. Although, at some point, I hope that ship-sense becomes common sense, and I can do better to avoid those dumb little mistakes.

3/15
I’ve been here for nearly a month now, and today has been the best day so far. This morning we rose at five and set off for a quick sail, all our canvas set. The weather was nearly ideal, with a clear sunrise over the island and friendly trade-winds to scoot us along through capping seas.

Though the outing was brief it was refreshing, like diving into cool water on a hot day – which is exactly what we did next.
On the Picton Castle we have a device called a rope swing, and what it is is a rope hanging from the end of the fore-course yard, and you swing on it. It’s a blast. We swam and played in the water for a good piece of the afternoon before breaking into watches and dividing up for time on shore of which I am the recipient of none (though no big deal, as our mooring will allow plenty of time for reading and writing which is mostly what I do on days off anyhow).
Some pictures of me going off the rope swing:

Nadja, Deckhand:

John, Deckhand:

Finn, Assistant Engineer/Deckhand after getting caught on a mooring line:

It was funny because that happened right after we were telling Fredrick, a new crew member, how easy it was, and that he had nothing to worry about. Then Finn, one of the seasoned veterans on the ship, takes a turn. Just as he is hitting the bottom of the swing the ship strains against the mooring and the line rises out of the water taking out the slack, hitting him right in the stomach. He was fine, but Fredrick was a bit discouraged. Though, to his credit, Fredrick took a turn on the swing and did fine. Thanks to Katie for taking those pictures.

Things with the charter are beginning to get into full swing and start officially tomorrow, causing bit more of an obstacle to my already irregular access to internet.

Doldrums and Rainbows

3/4

The past few days have been slow and difficult. There hasn’t been as much ship-work to do, so we have been standing by, basically idle for most of the day with spurts of work here and there. Not only that, but a cloud has fallen over much of the crew, and people seem a bit gloomy and disconnected, the results of the bizarre schedule and disrupted vibe onboard due to all the unorthodox requirements of our charter.

Also contributing to the difficulty of the last few days was the lack of a discussion buddy.

I’ve had a couple really great conversations here or there, but the squally demeanor onboard has all but severed the lines of recreational communication. So I’ve had lots of time to myself, which I normally love, but I’m surrounded by new friends and I’m really itching to get to know them better.

The past few days, if anything, have been a good lesson in patience. Not only am I stalled in my relationship building efforts, but the lack of ship’s work has slowed me in the process mastering all the skills involved in sailing, something I’d like to have done by say, Thursday.

However, with all the downtime I’ve had in the past few days I’ve spent a lot of my time in prayer, reading, listening to music, and in meditation, and it has been fantastic. I’ve also gotten some work done on a project for a friend that I’ve been behind on. (Sorry Charles, almost finished with it)

Plus, G.A.P.=God answers prayers, I’ve found a shipmate who has noticed the same bummed-out-ness of the crew and we had a great conversation last night, so hopefully it is the first of many (it really was an answer to a prayer, because for the days prior I was constant asking God for some meaningful interaction).

Also, today I finished my open water SCUBA certification which I am really excited about. Even better, I found out that the charter has a hotel booked up for their other group members, and the hotel provides with diving services for its clientele. One of the charter’s big-wigs said we can get free equipment and dive trips if we just mention the right names, so that’s pretty cool too.

Only one picture this time. A couple days back we were motoring down the southwestern corner of the island. The afternoon was gusty and rainy and just as we were passing by a quiet coastal village nestled in the green valley a rainbow materialized, framing the whole thing too perfectly to pass without a snapshot. My kindest sympathies to all locked in wintry mires or Oklahoma City in general, here it is:

2/25-27
It has been a trip getting back into ship-shape, and trying just to keep up with the more experienced professional crew. I am beyond the voyaging trainees but well behind the level of the pro-crew members and basically being treated just like them and very often asked to perform at their levels. Even the least experienced pro-crew member is well beyond me, I feel, but I am loving the challenge.
Saturday I worked aloft with the rest of the crew and, it being my third time aloft, was starting to get comfortable up there (this is also my first time ever working aloft without a harness, though we do use belt harnesses when doing longer projects aloft other than loosing and stowing sail).
Then we got the assignment to do work aloft I had never done before, and one of the pieces of hardware (the pin to a shackle, FYI) slipped out of my fingers and went swimming. The process of solving the problem sent me up and down the shrouds, and out and back on the yard arm several times, my feet were extremely sore and my legs were jello by the time I finished the job. Lost some confidence, got an eye-roll from the mate, and had to buy beers for everyone for my mistake. But all of that is far better than having my diaper powdered and training wheels tightened. Treat me tough, and I will get tougher.
The next morning we got a call to muster at about 4:45 to raise anchor and move the ship because were were blocking the way of an incoming cargo ship trying to get to the dock. Since there is not too much ship's work to do the crew, sparse already, has been divided into two watches and takes shifts of two days on and two days off. So, at about 5 am we manned the windlass (anchor raising crank) and hauled up the anchor. Usually a 15-16 person job, we did it with seven. I am still a bit sore.
Like I said, still getting into ship shape.
But, our work was rewarded with one of the most brillant sunrises I have ever seen.

Today is the first day of our two days off. I have SCUBA dived for the first time ever and loved it. We weren't even training in a pool, we trained off a dock. It was a really bizarre feeling of elation combined with holding off claustrophobia (though that passed as I got used to being under water). Tonight we are headed to Sufriere with the local guys we befriended at the rum shop. Sufriere is a place where boiling sulfur meets the cool ocean, and a warm bubbling spring is the result, fenced in by picturesque boulders. Apparently some scenes from Pirates of the Caribbean were filmed there as well.

So far life is hard but also very good.

Airline Drama, Carnival, and Ship's work

2/19:
After checking out of my hotel in San Juan, Puerto Rico, I headed to the airport to check in for my flight to Dominica. Much to my surprise, the airline I had booked tickets with, Caribbean Sun, had gone out of business.
OK, so now what.
The lady at the check-in counter was able to find another flight headed to Dominica, but it left nearly two hours earlier than my previously booked flight, and was with American Airlines… in another terminal. So, with my time cut even shorter than I had anticipated, I hoofed it through the San Juan airport, lugging my bags, and managed to make it to the plane in time. The plane, mind you, was little more than a crop duster with AA painted on the tail. They didn’t even serve cranberry juice. Oh well, a tiny plane to Dominica is better than a defunct plane to Dominica.
The drive from the airport to the docks was beautiful, and the narrow road wound through the island’s mountainous heart through breathtaking jungle. It reminded me of the hours spent in a bus in Costa Rica last May.
I found my way on to the ship, was shown my bunk, and then tossed into the fire with machine gun orientations: “Hi my name is _____ and this is ______ and I am _____ and this where we keep the ______, and this is the ______ but you’ll never need to worry about using that.”
Also, the Picton Castle has apparently taken on a rather high-profile charter, and I have signed a release promising not to divulge any secrets until everything is public. All I can say is that the ship will be involved in filming, and we will be in Dominica till the end of April, which I just found out. Believe me, when I can talk about all of it I will, because I have a feeling this will be a very unique experience.
After most of the crew went ashore to sleep in a hotel the chartering production company has kindly paid for (we sleep there in shifts), the remaining crew members sat at midships and shared drinks. With the drum beats of Carnival pulsing across the port, we talked and joked and tossed pistachio shells at each other before turning in.

2/20:
Today was my first official day. I have to say, it was a bit frustrating, but only because of me. Everyone onboard seems warm and it is a welcoming crew. I was frustrated because I was rusty. I wanted to just jump in and be super-sailor, but it wasn’t so. I was on a new ship, and it was mostly unfamiliar territory. I was still adjusting, and everyone else was in the full swing of ship work, so I felt like a bit of a nuisance when walking up to other crew and saying, “what can I do to help?” I felt like I said that twice as many times as “hi, I’m Ben.” From what I can tell, an experienced crew member doesn’t need to ask where he is needed, he already has a pretty good idea.
I managed to embarrass myself pretty well when the first mate asked me to lend a hand with the braces (one of the main lines on the ship). Instead of grabbing a brace, I grabbed the line next to it. He gave me a funny look and said, “Umm… that’s the fender, mate.” I sheepishly grabbed the correct line and helped him haul on it. But my brain fart left me feeling stupid. Grabbing a fender line instead of a brace is similar to being asked to roll down the window, and the tilting your seat all the way back with a puzzled, “I don’t know!” look on your face. Oh well. Tomorrow I will be more like the sailor I should be.
After work, which starts at 8:00 am and goes to about 4:30 or 5:00 pm, we got our stuff and took our turn at the hotel. I hopped in the hotel shower, soaked up the hot water (only cold showers on the boat) and we all headed into town for the last night of Carnival.
Carnival was about the ultimate island party. Thousands of people packed the streets of Roseau, Dominica’s capital city, and were all dancing and shouting with the booming music.
I jumped in.
I’m not much of a partier anymore, but Carnival in the islands was an experience that I did not want to miss. The mob was shepherded through the avenues buy massive party trucks with two-tier dance floors and live bands. Apparently there were several of these weaving through the city. All the people on the streets flowed with the trucks. I jumped into the crowd and bounced with the throbbing mass, I was literally swept along by the mob, and had very little say about which direction I went, though never losing sight of my crew-mates. For the ten or fifteen minutes I was a participant, Carnival was exhilarating but I don’t think I would want much more than that. My loud party days are well behind me, and I prefer something much more in line with what I found next.
One of the crew is friends with a man named Sarge who runs a very small rum, tea and spice shop called “The Ruins.” He had closed shop for Carnival, but when he saw us he opened up and served us some samples of his homemade spiced rums. I tried a dozen or so flavors, but the best were the river-grape, coffee, ginger, and chocolate rums. We sampled and talked, and bounced with the music outside, but it was intimate, warm and relaxed – my scene exactly.
Having gotten my fill of Carnival and spiced rum (while maintaining a decorum of moderation and temperance of course), and with my feet getting sore, I am definitely thankful to be back at the hotel and in a real bed. But, so far, it has already been a fantastic experience, and by the end of our two months in Dominica I expect to have a good acquaintance for the island and its people.

Much Love and God Bless,
Ben

Lesson Tally:
1) Don’t drink too much OJ
2) Carnival is not just for Brazilians
3) Married people don’t call each other
4) Don’t buy plane tickets for planes that don’t exist
5) Don’t drink rum that has been lit of fire (one person nearly caught themselves on fire, and nobody else seemed to enjoy it either. I passed on it.)
6) If, for a moment, you are not dancing at Carnival, the locals think there is something wrong with you.


2/21/07
Today was uneventful enough. The most exciting part was an early awakening at 5:00 am to move the ship because she was taking too much damage from the dock. Now, being anchored, there wasn’t much ship-work to do, so I took in the crew handbook, went over some of the lines and rigging, took a nap, and generally was at my leisure. The sunset though was magnificent, and just as it was setting a big full rigged ship passed by picking up new crew or passengers. I took about half a dozen photos, but could have taken three or four times the amount. It was a blessing of a sight. I wish I could find someone who would pay me to take photos of sunsets. I bet 40% of the pictures I take are of sunsets and skies.

2/22/07
Today was a hard work day. I am sore to the bone virtually everywhere. But it was also a good day. For the first time yet, I felt like I was back in my sailor’s rhythm, mostly during one activity: pulling on ropes. The most fundamental of fundamental in sailing work (The proper term of course is not ropes but lines, but I just like the way “pulling on ropes” sounds. It’s much more punchy. But for all the purists: hauling on lines.)
I also thought a lot about what it is I want to learn from sailing, how I want to further discover what kind of man I’ve been made to be.
Sailing is unique because it offers beauty and romance in plenty, but neither come immediately nor easily. The nice idea of sailing, cutting through crystal waters with bright white sails on a clear breezy day would sound good to just about anyone. But the reality is that is only a fraction of what working on a ship is about. Being a true sailor is about living a life of menial tasks (today: sorting scraps of canvas and rubber that get tied around docking lines to prevent chafing, and rinsing off the entire quarterdeck with a rag and bucket of fresh water so it can be repainted), basic housekeeping (today: dishes, scrubbing heads (toilets) and shower), to physically taxing manual labor (carrying large, heavy boxes up and down ladders).
The romance of sailing, for me, is what courses through all those tasks. I am doing part of what it takes to make the ship run, and run smoothly. Painters must wash their brushes, and sailors must sometimes put aside all their skills and expertise (hypothetical sailors of course, I still have very little of these two things) with what would normally be common tedious tasks – and they are indeed tedious.
But this work does not deter me nor bring second thoughts. Every pass of a sponge across a greasy pan does not bring disquiet or thoughts of higher paying jobs like reporter or teacher or Wal-Mart cashier. Rather, in each job I am filled with thoughts of, “This is home. This is good. The cleaner this head, the cleaner the ship, the cleaner the ship, the happier the crew, the happier the crew, the better the job, this is home, this is good, this is life, life is good.”
Seriously. Now, I don’t particularly like scrubbing the heads and all that, but I like what it brings. Being a good sailor, being the kind of sailor I want to be, comes with outpacing the sufferings of the job with the love of the job.
I think this is similar in life. Being a good man is surpassing the sufferings and burdens of your circumstances. You can choose to merely meet your circumstances, but that is nothing more than day to day, moment to moment survival. That is the difference between a man and a good man. I don’t want to survive, I want to thrive.
That is where my romance is too. Because after a hard day of pushing my body and tedious chores, I know that I have helped make this ship better – a key part of what it means to be a good sailor.
My romance is there, and it is over the horizon, and in the fibers of the line as my hand runs across, and it is in the sunset, and it comes every time someone calls out a seafaring word like “avast!” or we all chant “2-6 HEAVE!” as we square the braces. It is in the two wide-eyed Domincan boys following me around on shore, asking about the ship and my marlin spike and knife. “Is that your home? You work there? Peek-tone castle? What is this for? What do you cut with it? You climb to the top? That is your home?”
My romance is everywhere and it is in everything, but it is not easy to find. It must be dug for and earned. I am glad to have it.

Feb 18th, Day of Departure:

Well, I am sitting in O’Hare airport in Chicago, waiting for my flight to San Juan, Puerto Rico. My flight lands in San Juan at 12:30 AM tonight, and I don’t fly out to Port Roseau, Dominica until about three in the afternoon tomorrow. I can’t wait to get there, though I am less than excited about spending the night in the Puerto Rican airport. I learned online that when I arrive in Dominica it will be during the tail end of their month long celebration of Carnival. I didn’t know they celebrated Carnival anywhere but Brazil, but apparently they do in Dominica. I am really curious about their festivities, and hope I can catch a glimpse on my way from the airport to the ship.
I was a little nervous about my health for this trip. Thursday night I drank about a half gallon of orange juice, and had an upset stomach all day Friday. Nothing says, “Get ready to explore strange tropical places in a big boat” like 24 hours of nausea. Thankfully, Saturday was puke-free.
I have already had two farewell phone calls to special-lady-friend-Andrea, with at least one more to make. I think a good way to judge the seriousness of a relationship is how many times you have to call each other to say goodbye. We are currently at about three or four. I suppose when you get engaged the number shoots up to eight or ten, and then, once you get married, you may or may not get a text message saying, “bye.” I think three or four is a good place for us right now.
Obviously I am looking forward to this new adventure. One of the things I am most looking forward to is sailing for Captain Moreland.
My uncle, who got me tangled up in all this sailing mumbo-jumbo, said this about him: “Capt Dan Moreland is one of the best traditional sailors in the world, and a great friend of mine. He and I share professional heritage, each of us having served and apprenticed under Capt Arthur Kimberly in the brigantine Romance. Sad to say (and not to sound too boastful, I hope) Dan is one of the few tall ship sailors that I actually admire, respect, and look up to, because (also sad to say) he is one of the few who is the Real Deal. He is a hard master, but a deep one, and not an ounce of bullshit in him.”
I look forward to being pushed on this trip, both as a sailor and as a man. The people in my life that have pushed me the hardest to be my best have become some of my favorite people, dearly valued teachers and mentors and good friends. I will work to be my best on the Picton Castle, for Captain Moreland and for myself.
Otherwise, I guess I’ll hate ever second of it, and this will become a rather depressing blog.
I hope not, though.
FYI: The Picton Castle is a 179 foot steel-hulled Barque (Barques have at least three masts, with square sails on all but the mast furthest aft called the mizzen mast), with enough berths for as many as 52 people.
I don’t know how often I will have internet access in the islands. I honestly have no expectations, but maybe here or there my time on shore will lead me to a welcoming café or hotel with a wireless connection, and I can upload journal entries and photos.
Thanks for all your support prayers and anything else.
Hopefully this is the start of a great adventure and learning experience, and one of many more to come.

Cheers and Much Love,
Ben

Lessons learned so far:
1) Don’t drink too much OJ
2) Carnival is not just for Brazilians
3) Married people don’t call each other