Picture this: It’s 0800 and you’re eating breakfast on the quarterdeck. You’re wearing the cleanest items of clothing which after 4.5 weeks on a boat equates a smell test. You’re having a conversation with your shipmates about what you’re the most excited to do today with your research time on shore.

My day began with a gentle wake up at 6 am by Alle, “Good morning June, it’s 6 am. You have breakfast in 20 minutes, then after that you have watch. The weather is very nice outside.” It’s wonderful being able to plop right into bed without needing to turn on an alarm.

Congratulations, the acceptance letters have arrived and you’ve been accepted to your school of choice… with one caveat. They don’t have room for you until the spring term.

Before you lose heart and settle for your second choice, remember that this is a regular practice and needn’t affect your overall college experience. In fact, it could be a great opportunity.

After several days at sea the sight of land was bittersweet; however, something long anticipated awaited us after anchoring right outside Wellington and before we were to step foot on land.

The second to last field day of the voyage is scheduled for today, but as I have learned with life aboard, the schedule is always subject to change. Since I am part of A watch, that means I have the joy of cleaning every surface and dish in the galley.

At this moment in time, I am certain of three things:

1) There is no better place to watch the sunset than on the ocean, - with friends - on top of the Elephant Table.
2) Community is everything.
3) Ginger beer is (and always has been) better than Ting.

Today is my 21st birthday. It’s not exactly the way I envisioned it, but I’m not complaining. Open ocean, the salt breeze, and amazing friends. What else could I possibly need? I spent yesterday as Assistant Steward in the galley. I am a terrible cook, but thankfully, I didn’t burn anything! I made chocolate chip cookies for midnight snack and lasagna for dinner.

“Glowing dolphins!” was how I started my day. A little after 0000 I woke up to Fin murmuring to those awake that dolphins were lit up by bioluminescence in the water off the starboard bow. For this rare opportunity I slid out of bed 30 minutes early, pattered up on deck, and draped myself over the rail where I hung staring at the water, dazzled in amazement.

When the wakeup call came for all hands breakfast at 0610 this morning I was already awake having just stood the 0500-0600 port watch. This would be the last time any of us would be standing hourly port watches in Napier as the primary thing on our agenda today was to sail out of Napier and start our revised track to Wellington.

You wake up sweating. It sticks to you in a sheen mixed with dirt and the shine of sunscreen and mosquito spray left over from the day before yesterday. Tomorrow’s your shower day. Your bunk is an oven. Thick, maroon curtains trap the heat you made while asleep, your blanket is a crumpled heap at your feet.