Daily Journal

July 12, 2010

By David M. Lawrence

Early this morning we switched to a new nautical chart. Defense Mapping Agency Chart No. 26030, entitled "Bermuda Operating Areas." The switch must have happened about 0500 hours, for that is the time of the first plotted position on it.

While we cannot see Bermuda from the ship yet, we can see it on the chart. We are getting close to the end of the expedition now.

We are steering straight for the island. We plan to rendezvous with Bermuda pilots at 0600 tomorrow.

Overnight, I rejoined B Watch for the final leg of our journey. At the time I first rotated out of B Watch to work with the others, I had asked Captain Chris McGuire for permission to transfer back at the end. I felt like I had gone through basic training with them. I left Bermuda with them. It is important for me to return to Bermuda with them.

Some of us are scrambling around trying to wrap up the various projects we've begun on the expedition. I'm trying to figure out what personal goals are going to get left on the cutting room floor. With less than 48 hours before we disembark from the ship, something will have to go. I don't know if anyone else feels similarly afflicted.

Many are fantasizing about getting ice cream once we're on shore. I'm fantasizing about feeling dry for a change – not an easy goal to achieve in Bermuda's subtropical climate, but any improvement is welcome.

B Watch had its final watch meeting this morning – most of the watches have a meeting the morning after they stand for midwatch. We didn't have much business to transact, so a question got kicked around, "What was your most awkward moment on this cruise?" Given that I haven't had much time for reflection the past thirty-something days, I couldn't think of anything to share. In time, I'm sure I will come up with several suitable candidates.

One candidate, and maybe the best one, is the constant awkwardness of my being here as a journalist – anything that happened, that I witnessed or heard about – was potential material for discussion. I have to say, though, that nearly everyone has been a good sport about it.

As a journalist, though, I have to ask if I've become one of the crew or if I'm still an interloper. Personally, I hope I've earned the right to call myself a member of the team. Professionally, it might be best if I remained an interloper. Either way, the awkwardness remains.

Today began with A Watch sailing through a pretty good squall. I was too interested in getting fully caffeinated to wander on deck and witness the proceedings. After a nice spell of sunshine to end A Watch's term during morning watch, B Watch seems to be playing chase with few more squalls – with the squalls being it and us being the prey. For most of the day, the squalls have been catching us. For the first time in this expedition, a squall chased us off the quarterdeck during class time. Tyson Bottenus, who was giving the final scheduled talk – his topic was science and rhetoric – had to finish his presentation in the main saloon.

That was just a precursor to the main event, which began shortly after 1700 hours when it was clear we were going to get hit good. The oncoming rain obscured the horizon as it approached us from the south. We got drenched. Nevertheless, we had to continue with our scientific work, which meant gybing, backing the stays'ls and jib, and gybing again. In the driving rain, however, we failed to take all of the slack out of the port jib sheet, and the jib unbacked itself in the wind. We gybed again, backed the jib, and gybed one final time – for a quadruple gybe – before beginning the neuston tow.

Given the conditions we were working under, it wasn't too bad of a piece of work.

Afterward, we just got soaked. Most of us on deck tried to hide under our foulies as best we could, but the rain found its way inside through many venues – the neck, the wrists, under a flapping hood. We were defenseless against the onslaught of wet.

The squall finished playing through about three-quarters of an hour later. The neuston tow was a success. Most of us were dumping excess water out of various collection points in our foulies or shoes. Most of us were feeling rather damp in places we don't like to feel damp (unless we are bathing or swimming), and to a person we were pretty giddy about getting through it.

The squall wasn't much by North Atlantic standards – no one had to hang their head over the lee rail – but it was still quite a thrill.

When C Watch came on deck to take over for evening watch, a lot of threatening clouds surrounded us. But we had sun on deck, a beautiful rainbow astern, and the good feelings that come from a successful watch.

The only sour note – condensation inside my lens prevented me from taking a good photo of the rainbow. But I got to see and enjoy it, which is far more important.