Deep in the Blue

Sleeping in shifts eventually turned to living in shifts. Read for a bit, fall asleep for a couple hours, then wake up to take over driving and start it all over again-a cycle that could eat up three days pretty quickly. During the offshore run from St. Augustine to Charleston, Miss Manerva rode down the fronts of swells that were about eight or ten feet tall, all day and all night. These guys were with us for the greater part of the three day leg.

We might have dreaded starting our shifts. It was a scramble to get anything you might want to do during the next four hours done, or ready to be performed in the cockpit, at the wheel. The one being relieved would step down, the new driver taking the wheel and setting down his water bottles, the bag of craisins. The one being relieved would stand at the bottom of the steps, looking up at the new helmsman, and ask “Are you hungry? Do you want some espresso? Wet Mango (energy drink)? Wake me up if ya need me.” And then it was just you and the Nerve. A few minutes before, you were dreading starting your shift with every ounce of exhausted will in your body. But sitting down at that wheel, you feel purposeful, fulfilled. You are sailing a boat 1200 miles up the East coast.

Alone at night, then, leaning against the railing, things get weird. The vibration of the motor is like a back massager spread out over the entire stern of the boat. With it going at 2000 rpm virtually 24-7 the entire trip, it becomes a steady drone. You sit there, in the red light of the compass, dozing. This dozing is just slightly less irresponsible than dozing at the wheel of a car-after all, you’re in the middle of the ocean, with nothing around, traveling at about five miles per hour. Your head begins to droop, sometimes staying down for a minute, then pops up. This happens a couple times, but the last one snaps you awake, opens your eyes all the way. You stand up, slap yourself in the face a couple times. The mango energy drinks don’t seem to do anything except give you a very short-lived (as long as it takes to drink the can) sugar buzz. Even the espresso seems to just make you feel physically uncomfortable, like you should be lying down on a bed.

One night, I was thinking about things when I heard some birds chirping over the noise of the motor. It seemed like maybe just a sound between bumps in the motor, a sound that could fit in the clickety-clackety rhythm but wasn’t actually there. I began to hear the beat of a song sometimes, perfectly clear, and somehow in sync with the 2000 rpms of the motor. Josh said that as the sun rose one morning, he heard the sounds of morning at Seabase-alarms, birds chirping, Scouts singing songs and crazy staff members yelling at 7 am.