Daily Journal

June 26, 2010

By David M. Lawrence

Today has been an eventful day.

Since midnight, we have done four neuston tows, two Tucker trawls, and one carousel deployment. Chief Scientist Giora tried to deploy a radio-controlled aircraft armed with a camera, only to have it land in the drink. The scientific work has been hot and heavy, and I wanted to devote some time to it today, but events overtook my plans.

Today, I feel compelled to write about family.

SEA literature says dining on the ship is "family style". What that means is that the crew, spread over two rotations at each meal each day, dines together. There are no "Captain's tables," or other such formal nonsense. Each table is piled with plates, cups, and silverware; excellent food; drinks ranging from coffee and tea to day-glo colored concoctions. Elbows collide; arms crisscross as they pass one thing or another to the other end of the table; conversations dissolve into one anther to make for interesting aural collages; and everyone helps set the table for the next rotation, or clear and clean it after the second rotation.

The mealtime gatherings have much more than family "style". They have family "substance".

We have formed a family at sea. A ship's crew – or any group bound by a common endeavor – has to forge some kind of bond if it is to succeed in whatever it is called upon to do, but you can have such a bond without the personal closeness that many of us feel toward one another here. Several events reinforced the notion that we have something special on the SSV Corwith Cramer.

The first two incidents are separate, but similar. Late this morning, when I was in combat photographer mode, I started to position myself where I didn't belong to get photos of a Tucker trawl. Dylan Meyer kindly reminded me of the potential danger I was putting myself in – I was climbing on the roof of the science lab to get a good photo angle (and it would have been a good angle), but it is a bad place to be if the wire holding the trawl snapped and whipped back at me.

I realized my mistake, but when stepping off the lab, I aimed for the break in the deck – where the deck height rises a foot or so just in front of the mainmast – and missed. I came down hard, twisting my knee in the process. Dylan helped me up, got me to a deck box outside the doghouse where I could sit down, and made sure I was OK before leaving me. (Well, he tried to make sure I was OK. I told him I was OK when I really wasn't.) I bulled my way through to the end of the trawl, got what I think are some decent pictures, then went off to find second scientist Dave Murphy, aka "Murph," who doubles as one of two medical officers on the ship.

Murph checked me out, gave me ibuprofen, put an ice pack on my knee, and told me to stay off my leg for awhile. Others came and cheerfully helped me when I needed it, such as when Tyson Bottenus fetched my computer from my top bunk for me, and even when I didn't need it, like when they cleared my plate for me at lunch.

Later in the day, Marilou Maglione took a tumble off the aft ladder. She, too, twisted her knee. Many people rushed to her aid, helped her get to a perch in the main saloon next to me (where I was waiting for another round of ice on my knee), checked her out, gave her ibuprofen, and put an ice pack on her knee. Throughout the afternoon and evening, many of our fellows – our family – have been helping us, acting as gofers, etc., and doing what they can to make us feel better.

Judging from my feelings and from the looks on Marilou's face, I want them all to know it is working. Our knees might be a bit dodgy, but we both feel better.

Rather than end what may appear to some to be today's accident report, I have to close with another expression of the family spirit aboard this ship.

Dylan turned 21! We celebrated it, giving him what is arguably one of the most unusual 21st birthday parties ever held in history.

The obvious claim to uniqueness was that the party was held on a research sailing vessel in the middle of the Sargasso Sea. But there was his card, made of sailcloth by several of Dylan's watchmates, particularly Athena Aicher and Ellie Kane. It was, of course signed by the rest of us. We sang happy birthday – pretty standard – but some of the older salts on the ship led us in some traditional, and midly off-color, seafaring fare for the occasion.

Birthday parties should have games, and the party planners did not overlook that option. First, there were a couple of rounds of pin the tail on the mermaid. Second, there was an ocean-going version of Twister! (If you think Twister! is hard enough in your living room, try it on a ship rocking in the Mid-Atlantic swell.) Dylan and Megan Cronin outlasted all other challengers, and since there were two prizes left, both were declared winners.

Yes, there was cake, with unlit candles that we made Dylan blow out anyway. There were cupcakes and drinks. Over the course of the party, Dylan ended up with some of the cake shoved in his face. I don't know if that is part of seafaring tradition, but it was hilarious.

Dylan enjoyed his party. Marilou and I enjoy the support we're getting from the rest of the crew. Yes, we are a family – a damned good one.