The voyage that changed it all, Part II

I should mention, given the title of this blog, that neither Emyl or Seychelles ever really wore shoes. I was now included in this refreshing liberation of feet. It was more of a safety issue, really. Shoes and flippie-floppies can slip and when climbing out on the bobstays it is essential that you are able to grip the rope or chain with your toes and really be able to feel your footing.

The rest of the crew arrived later that first evening. They included Hugh, a lively guy at 19 who had helped the previous summer with maintenance work on When and If; Drew, a 28 year old boat builder; and Toby, he was 38 and had been doing crew jobs and deliveries since he was in his early 20s. There were six of us total, and four had their captains licenses. The combined experience on this boat was huge.

My bunk was just adjacent to the galley. Seychelles had recommended this one since we would be on a starboard tack for most of the trip and it was the driest on the boat. It was also the noisiest one, and I was woken up at 7 the next morning to coffee making, which I didn't really mind. We were off the docks by 8 and headed towards the inlet at West Palm. Just after passing through, the sails went up in a gorgeous flurry of lines and canvas. Within half an hour, we were cruising comfortably in the Gulf Stream under sail alone at just about 8 knots.

The shift rotations started immediately after we were out of the inlet. There were three watches, two people per watch with a duration of three hours. This allowed for six hours in between the three hour watch. It ended up working out great, and the rhythm was going well. Emyl was my watch partner. The first night we had the 7 to 10 shift, followed by the 4 to 7. I was sound asleep as soon as my head hit the pillow, despite a lot of movement in the galley/saloon area. In what seemed like ten minutes, Emyl nudged me on his way to the stove to put on some coffee, 4 am had come much sooner than I had expected. We stumbled up to the cockpit where Toby and Drew were finishing up their shift. Although it was ungodly early, it was a beautiful night, and the sound of only the wind in the sails and the hull on the water complimented the breathtaking myriad of stars overhead.

Emyl and I were on watch alone, and three hours can seem like a long time, but we had some great conversations and it flew by. We talked about current events, politics, movies, books, and countless South Park episodes. Now, almost everyone I know in my life currently went to college at some point. Some of them probably shouldn't have, in my opinion, and were there either because their parents forced them, they didn't know what else to do with their lives, or just to slip into an alcohol-induced coma for a few years. However, on this boat, I was in the minority. I was the only one who had a degree, but judging by the actions, words and thoughts of this group, you would have never know the difference. These were highly intelligent, well read, well spoken people who had clear goals in their minds. They were responsible, fair, hard working, honest and good natured. I can't say the same for all of the "educated" people I know.

At some point, we jibed. I noticed a squall ahead and we turned to avoid it. Emyl headed forward and released the preventer. "Swing her to port and duck when appropriate!" He gave me the command at a normal volume; no need to yell when the only engine is the gentle 15 knot breeze to our backs. I turned the wheel to the left and the solid wood, 6-inch diameter boom came racing across over my head. The sun was up at this point, although the weather was turning ugly. The squall ahead was sucking in air from all around it and the seas were getting confused. What was long lines of four-foot waves to our backs before was turning into more of a washing machine. Peaks and troughs were building on each other as the wind shifted and started building a swell in an opposing direction.

Comments

Bill said…
Sounds amazing! Can't wait to read about the rest of the voyage.

Popular posts from this blog

Great strength of feets: removing the old diesel

We Hate Shoes

aaand we're back...