SEA Currents: life at sea
Finding My True Self
I haven’t written anything in this blog yet. It’s not for lack of content; our trip has been a fantastic opportunity with much to write home about, and some things I don’t think should ever leave the knowledge of the 21 students. I guess I wasn’t really inspired to write anything. Today, after we left Rarotonga last night and I was able to reconnect with the outside world, I think I found something to ponder and put to paper.
Happy As A ...
Despite its bad reputation among the student crew, dawn watch has provided me with some of my best memories on board. Most of these memories have come after I learned that a cup of coffee makes the 0100-0700 block significantly easier. During my second dawn watch en route to Ile Maria, my mind had some time to wander while I was scanning the horizon at the bow. The ship swaying beneath my feet, I realized, is not unlike horses or fire.
Stanford@SEA: Somewhere in the Big Blue
This morning I woke up after a full(er) night of sleep and could feel a slight ache in every muscle in my body. Every action we do on the ship has our bodies working, whether it’s walking across the deck or even sitting to read. After a week though our bodies feel stronger and our balance is better.
Stanford@SEA: Three Sheets to the Wind!
Stanford@SEA 2017 is on the move once again. At 2213 Friday evening, after 38 hours at anchor to the lee of Isle Maria, the ship’s company hoisted the Bobby C.‘s anchor and got underway for our next stop - Rarotonga!
The weather is cooperating. We are finally being pushed by the west-blowing trade winds predicted for this voyage, and our estimated time of arrival to Rarotonga is 0900 Monday morning.
Growing up in Cleveland has made me someone who is not easily phased by sudden or unexpedcted changes in whether. I have often seen a week that included clear skies with warm sun, dark and looming thunderstorms, sudden hail, snow flurries, and a mild tornado. But today I experienced the true North Atlantic Ocean, full of sun, squalls, freezing winds, and waves that engulfed our floating home. C watch took the deck at 0645 in the morning, all decked out in our endless layers of warmth and full foulie garb, ready for the frigid morning ahead.
Stanford@SEA: Routine & Disruption
Just as we started settling into the swing of things on board - seasickness dissipating, and our circadian clocks finally syncing with the 18-hour watch cycles - today disrupted normalcy once more. Today was the day we reached Ile Maria - our first island stop, and an uninhabited one at that.
Jumbie Strikes Again
As the Corwith Cramer’s engineer I’d like to invite you all to follow along and catch a glimpse into an average day taking care of our little floating community.
First things first, upon waking up in the morning I take a stroll around the engine room to make sure everything is operating as it should be.
The Opposite of Cathedrals
We are sailing once again. Leaving Bermuda was a bittersweet and strange experience. It is hard to describe the feeling of seeing an entire country fade into the horizon as our ship moved further and further into an ever-encompassing cerulean sea. What seemed like an immense and bustling country suddenly lost its grandeur as it shrunk to non-existence behind us. Out here, everything seems both monumental and minuscule.
My days onboard are more or less the same; at 0600 I get a wakeup for breakfast, which I inevitably ignore until 0700 when the second seating of breakfast is served. I’ll wander around haphazardly until 1000, when the ship goes hove to for morning station. I get my dipnet, my buckets, the saltwater hose and begin staring out at the sea for the next two hours, hoping to catch a glimpse of tiny spots of gold flecked among the vast expanses of blue water.
Stanford@SEA: Dawn Watch
I wasn’t quite overjoyed to hear that Watch Group A had been assigned the 0100-0700 shift on our first evening underway. The excitement of our previous night onboard and the beauty of Moorea’s jagged peaks was not lost on me, but I was exhausted. Hours in the hot sun and still air sapped my energy as we rehearsed the ship’s procedures, and none of us could wait to finally lift anchor and depart for Iles Maria that afternoon. But that night, instead of passing out in our bunks, the ten members of my watch group would be taking on the responsibilities of the ship: changing sails, manning the helm, conducting boat checks, staffing the science lab, and so on.