June 25, 2010
By Sarah Wegmueller
Foul weather gear, or "foulies", are bulky and awkward. To pack it before heading to sea often requires a sailor to reassess her entire duffel bag, sacrificing those few extra cute shirts so that she may stuff the hooded, waterproof jacket and elastic-band pants into some empty space in her pack. Wearing foulies transforms said sailor from an agile, graceful character into an overstuffed hippo with reflective tape on her neon-wrapped head. For a long time I firmly believed that the word "foulies" was a reference to the odor wafting from the foul weather gear locker – musky with mildew and pungent from sweat.
I sailed two SEA Semesters prior to this expedition, from Tahiti to Hawaii and back again. For both trips I wore the cheapest poncho and pants I could find in my hometown's Farm & Fleet. And after both trips I generously donated my foulies to our family's barn clothes inventory since, in both cases, the foulies were torn, moldy, and did not actually prove waterproof. The foulies I used to wear held true to every negative stereotype: stinky, ugly, useless, moldy. Indeed, I have never felt fondness for my foulies, until today.
Dawn watch this morning began in the strangest of ways. B Watch stumbled onto the quarterdeck to find a "moonbow", a rainbow reflecting from the full moon onto some particularly ominous clouds in the east. None of us had seen a rainbow in the dead of night, and coupled with our heavy eyes, the rainbow created a dark, mysterious evening dreamscape that fed on our sleepy imagination. I scanned the clouds looming over the ship on all sides – low-lying black cumulus clouds pregnant with rain. The radar suggested we would experience rain in our near future, and I took over the helm with some hesitation. As I steered us into the northern side of the Middle of Nowhere, the clouds blended with the sea, blurring my horizon.
It was not until bow watch at 0430 hours that I needed my foulies. The black clouds were above us and the moon, stars, and horizon were completely hidden behind them. Whispers of raindrops became louder until it poured. My new foulies, a gift from my boyfriend purchased mere hours before I left for Bermuda, were incredible in the squall. They were the real deal. I felt like a true sailor when I pulled them on this morning – my West Marine lined red jacket with a bright yellow hood, grey pants that were actually the right size (Farm & Fleet does not cater to the slender young female). And were they warm! The hood fell comfortably over my forehead, protecting my hair and face so that I could still perform well at bow watch.
I was used to sailing in the tropics where the rain feels warmer than the air, but here in the North Atlantic the rain feels like it did in Wisconsin – cold. I stood bow watch under the black clouds and I stayed warm and dry. My mind briefly transported me back to the frigid Saturday afternoon last December that my mom and I spent cuddled together on the couch, reading "Einstein's Dreams" and sipping peppermint hot cocoa. The feeling I had that day, the epitome of comfort, was realized again this morning when I stayed dry. As the sun rose behind the clouds and the rain subsided, I headed back to the quarterdeck to see not one, but two huge rainbows, full prisms of color reflecting from the sun. They stretched from the sky and shone into the water until they touched the hull of our ship.
