SEA Currents: May 2017
May 23, 2017
This morning on dawn watch, I left the lab to help set a sail and noticed a glowing light rise gently above the horizon, just off the starboard bow of the ship, in the northwest. I glanced at my watch, which read 04:15. The light was in the wrong direction and a bit early for sunrise, especially as we move into Southern Hemisphere autumn. It was land.
May 22, 2017
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.
May 22, 2017
If you had told me a year ago that I’d be spending this morning standing at the helm of a tall ship sailing towards New York, I probably wouldn’t have believed you. Even if I had, I would have been very confused by the route my life had taken.
And yet, here I am. We’ll be pulling into New York about half a day from now. While we still have not sighted land, the signs of it approaching are gradually building-from the slight glow of the far off lights on evening watch Saturday to the more frequent crackling of the radio from the doghouse as I settle in to sleep underneath it.
May 21, 2017
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.
May 21, 2017
What a day on the Cramer! This is about to be a long blog, but I deemed it necessary to try to capture all that this day had to offer, so stick with me. Though every day has its excitement here on board, today was something to remember. We spent the day in the Hudson Canyon, the largest submarine canyon along the US Atlantic Coast, rivaling the depth and scale of the Grand Canyon, just southeast of New York City.
We got the opportunity to participate in the New York Seascape program, a program working to connect New York residents to their nearby ocean.
May 20, 2017
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.
May 19, 2017
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.
May 19, 2017
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.
May 18, 2017
Today was another exciting day aboard the Cramer! I woke up this morning and had some extra delicious blueberry muffins for breakfast. I had morning watch this morning and today I was finally in lab, the first time since leaving Bermuda. Usually when I enter the lab, I always glance to the little shelf near the port side porthole where the cool specimens from the previous evening’s science station are kept so everyone can see them. I was especially excited once I walked into the lab this morning because I saw a creature that I didn’t even know existed- a Paper Nautilus.
May 17, 2017
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.