In my mind today actually started at some point yesterday at about 2100 with the call of “Whales off the Starboard bow!” After quickly rolling out of my bunk, it was straight up to the bow where lo and behold, a school of pilot whales had come to play. Not a bad sight to end a night on. After that it was back to sleep since our watch (A watch) had to be up for Midwatch from 2300 to 0300. Midwatch is usually a beautiful time to be awake with the rest of the ship asleep.

For the first time since arriving in Wallis, today was an absolutely beautiful day! After two full days of 100% cloud cover and persistent rain (I thought we signed up for a trip to the South Pacific Islands, not the Pacific North West…), the gale-force winds finally let up. The sky cleared and the seas calmed to a startlingly clear blue through which we could see baby octopuses frolicking near the dock and sea turtles swimming further out, and the Robert C. Seamans was unpinned from the dock and able to motor away from the island.

Writing this, I realize that time has very much escaped me. It could be any month, any day, even any year and I would not know. Yes, of course I hear rumors of how many days are left and how many weeks we have been on the boat, but the way I think about time, if I even consider it at all, is very different. Time has become a nearly nonexistent, foreign concept.

Dear Shore & Co.:

This evening marks the end of our last full day at sea together. Sitting here in the library, the last month seems like the blink of an eye, but when I focus a bit more, I realize how full every day has been. Port arrivals and departures, cities to explore, science deployments, constant learning, supportive camaraderie, and plenty of filling meals along the way have kept every last one of us busy.

I had a nice early start to my day this morning. Wake ups were promptly at 2:30am and after a few minutes of gathering my things and hauling on some clothes, I scrambled up on deck along with the rest of B watch. The deck was dimly lit by the shimmering moonlight and I zoned out staring at the waves, drinking a cup of hot cocoa while we were mustering. I came to realize it was my turn to be point person on our watch.

Cooking has always been something I’ve been fascinated with. I like to eat good food and I like to know how it’s created.  I’ve been lucky enough to have a wonderful mother who cooks the most delicious food in the world and in twenty years I’ve only learned a handful of her tricks but I’m hoping to learn many more as I cook with her in upcoming years.

On the Robert C. Seamans we have plenty deck and lab time but what most of you sleeping on land might not know is that we have plenty of tasty food too.

I’m going to tell you a secret. It’s a secret that all the students on this ship keep and though this could be taken as an act of betrayal to my fellow peeps, I’m in desperate need of a good blog story. So here it is The Truth.

Lookout is a trap.

I. Navigation
Course steered: 225˚with Toaea at the helm. He is I-Kiribati, an observer, mostly silent like Wind: Beaufort force 2. Not enough to make Speed: 7.5 knots against a countercurrent, so under the forestays’l and mainstays’l we again find ourselves Motorsailing across the Pacific. Position: 0˚58.150’S x 169˚42.0’W