Current position of the SSV Corwith Cramer. Click on the vessel to view position history. Use the tools, top right, to change the map style or view data layers. Dates and times use GMT (Greenwich Mean Time).
SEA Currents: SSV Corwith Cramer
December 17, 2016
Turn This Ship Around! I’m Not Ready For This Trip To End!
17°14.8’N x 062°45.1’W
Ship’s Heading & Speed
319°psc at 4.1kts
Deep Reefed Mains’l, Mainstays’l, Forestays’l
Three days left. Just three days to absorb every last drop we can squeeze out of this incredible, inspiring, life-altering journey. I want to remember it all, afraid to blink, not wanting to let a single moment pass. After speaking with my family during our time in Dominica, I found it difficult to put into words all that I have experienced over the last five weeks. “What was your favorite thing on the boat?” they asked. Of course they were going to ask that question, and knowing this, I should have prepared something for them, but in that moment at least thirty to forty events came to mind, most of which were feelings that I could hardly describe to myself, let alone to my parents, eagerly waiting on the end of the line for the comprehensive “low-down” that I would typically give. I’m not sure that I could ever adequately describe this fantastic adventure, and I especially could not condense it into a few hurried phone-calls home. Regardless, I can absolutely not pick a favorite, but I thought that I might try to list some of the things that I will undeniably miss the most about life on the Cramer.
I will miss…
- Blue. Each of the brilliant blue hues that make up the ocean and the sky. My favorite being the color of the ocean, not far from the submerged hull of the ship, on an overcast but clear afternoon, just before class time.
- The feeling underfoot of the deep ridges in the deck where the soft, black rubber has held up over time, protruding up from in between the smooth planks of teak that have warn from years of deck wash scrub brushes and high pressure fire hoses.
- The cozy comfort of crawling into my coffin-like, wooden bunk, where sleep comes all too eagerly after long watches in the beating sun or pound squalls, neither of which leave me an ounce of energy to clear up mattress space for my body. Instead, I wake five hours later with a water bottle, harness, notebook, and shoes, all wedged into different corners of my back. But no matter, because I couldn’t have slept harder hadn’t they have been there.
- The first breath of air you take after stepping on deck into steady force five winds. Each time, the same feeling of elation, no matter how many times you had done that same thing today.
- Laying on the quarterdeck before the moon rises, watching the figure-eight that the Mainm’st traces into the dark sky, over and over again, attempting to connect the dots in the stars.
- The constant sounds that we’ve habitually tuned out. Chirp, continuously mapping the deep ocean floor beneath us, squeaky blocks that hate to sail downwind, the rushing water alongside my bunk as it passes swiftly by the hull of the ship, the hum of the wind pressuring each ear as it pushes past our faces.
- And finally, the long-stretched moon-trail, glistening over the rippling ocean that always seems to point back to the Cramer, but never extending beyond our wake.
I am thrilled to see my family again, but the thought of disembarking the ship is difficult to come to terms with. I will miss the Cramer, the crew, and everyone and everything that has made this experience so special. I am so grateful to SEA and my parents who made this journey possible! I can’t wait to see you and try to tell you all about it!