One of the things I have learned so far in this trip is that things can change in an instant. Skies go from clear to cloudy, wind fills in from almost nothing to practically gale-force, and a sunny day can turn into thunderstorms, all in a matter of minutes. So for us students on the SSV Robert C. Seamans, one of the most valuable lessons has been adapting to these changes.

It is 1930 (7:30 am) on a Friday night, and I am hanging out on the bow of the Robert C. Seamans. I have come to know this specific location on the boat as the “bow watch spot”. One member of the crew has stood here, tethered to the stay, all the way forward where the sides of the boat come to a point, for every hour that we’ve been underway.

After about ten days sailing on the SSV Robert C. Seamans, we’ve all pretty much gotten into the ship’s daily working routine. As we are now much more comfortable with life aboard the ship, we are starting learn more skills, and take on more responsibilities with the hope of eventually reaching the Junior Watch Officer Phase where the students mainly take over running the ship.

The SSV Robert C. Seamans has been under outstanding weather for the past few days. Mostly clear skies, with gusts of wind helping move the Seamans ever closer to the equator. At the time of this writing, we are only 0°10.584’ from the equator, and I have already signed up to be woken up for the crossing!

There are no milestones on the open ocean, only arbitrary lines we have invented to help us feel some sense of place.

My day started before the actual first hour of July 12th arrived, I was awake from the morning of the 11th and worked processing net deployments until 03:00 on the 12th (which also happens to be my little brothers birthday!) I spend that time sorting through buckets of zooplankton that the students had pulled up from the three types of net deployments the ship scientists run, a Shallow Tucker Trawl, Deep Trucker Trawl, and a Neuston Tow

Chief Scientist Blaire invited me to post the blog today, so I did. I’m writing to you as I slowly emerge from self-imposed bunk stasis; I have been double-sick since last Friday just before we left port in Pago Pago. The combination of a cold and sea sickness had really done a number on the physicality of my being, the nature of my presence and the morale of my mind.

The Robert C. Seamans experienced moderately high winds and seas during the first couple days of our trip, but weather over the last few days has calmed significantly, with wind from the east north easterly direction dropping to a Beaufort force 2 yesterday and sea swell in the range of 3-6 ft.

It’s a hard thing to describe accurately, but it is strange and difficult to acclimate to living situations that never stop moving. I’ve always been sensitive to listen to any crashing or colliding sounds, which often mean something’s broken, especially in the kitchen.

When a member from C watch gently woke me at 0515, I knew it was going to be a good day.