SEA Cruise 2002
Abigail Knee
26-06-02 2200 hours
Day One aboard the SSV CorwithCramer

It's dark now; the ship's quieted down for the night. We've motor sailed out of the docks in Woods Hole, MA this morning into anchor offshore Martha's Vineyard. All hands were on deck this afternoon as we set sail and then later took them down and let the anchor out for the night. We had a rotation through three orientation stations this evening following dinner. Our steward and assistant steward are great! We even had some fresh blueberry and strawberry shortcake for dessert.

We all have our watches now—mine is C-watch, which will begin tomorrow. Breakfast will be in two shifts, followed by more orientation. Good to get the hands-on learning. So far, we're still in the Vineyard Sound, in calm waters, so no seasickness yet—JOY! Tomorrow may prove to be different.

Each and every day of our voyage shall be filled with learning. In just this afternoon, I've picked up about how to lay line and make it fast, I've been at the helm as we got out on our way, and seen many parts of my new home and started to know some of the sail, sheet, safety, and other lingo.

Tomorrow will come quickly and tonight will be our only assured rest, so I best be tucking into my top berth soon.

Time to go below and out of this beautiful fresh air and calming rhythm of the sea splashing about for one night. So begins our trek!

P.S. The berths are bigger than I anticipated.

30-6-2002 Evening Day Five

Wow! Today was certainly the day! I survived (happily, even) three meals and a snack. I decided to nap through morning snack. I also stood a full watch on deck, making boat checks, taking the helm, and hauling lines. In preparation for the pin chase tomorrow, I finally started to learn my lines—hope by afternoon tomorrow I am ready.

After a brief midmorning nap, C-watch was summoned to the bow and, harnesses fastened, we made our way out onto the bowspit. The seas were fairly to completely calm all day, which made for a good day on my inner ear. We also were able to deploy our instrumentation without much trouble and stay on site—Oceanographer's Canyon for today (previous sites have been deep shelf breakwater (around 2300 meters) and the near shelf. Deck watch was quiet. We are all still awaiting the (southwest?) wind to fill our topsail and take us toward George's Bank.

Our watch was superbly positioned on the bowspit for a playful display of a pod of common dolphins (4 or 5) as they entered from our starboard and continued to pass under our safety netting and race the ship—so cliché, but it was sure to raise all our spirits.

I enjoyed attending to the reports on weather, science, and navigation. The mini-lesson on waves was more or less a review of a section of my spring oceanography course. Charismatic megafauna broke up and livened the lulls as oohs and aah's broke and crested over us and in an undulation we stood up to search. Pilot whales sighted in the early day were replaced by minkes during class.

Welling light on the quarter deck is fast fleeting, so I fear my entry must close for tonight. The fog of our day is settling back upon us and Shire's harmonizing is wafting through the air. Until dawn watch and cleanup.

4 July 2002 Noon Independence Day Day Nine

We're back in Menemsha Bight currently after an amazing several last days. Some highlights: three climbs aloft on the main mast, one a day. My first ascent proved perhaps most picturesque, with the wind blowing us along, clear waves smashing about. I felt as if I had reached my favorite perch of my life. Blue, blue waters stretched across to a circular horizon. Atop the second platform, I ventured further to the topmost ratlin, shaken slightly by wind—not frightened, but satisfied with that limit. Perhaps I'll never lie belly over on the top of a mast, but strangely I'm happy, content even, with that. Who knows when/if my competitive spirit will urge me beyond.

The second climb to the sky was on the flattest seas I have ever beheld, calming in nature, reflective. This time, I clambered horizontally out on the upper cross beam (yard). It's truly more stable up there, more secure than I had imagined. Falling rarely crosses your mind. Today I reached a vantage point from which to witness the arrival of our sister SEA East Coast ship, the Westward. The crews of each mighty vessel played pirate antics, firing off brass cannons and circling each other, in and out of the winds. From aloft, my understanding of sails hauling and taking down was enlightened. Perhaps at last (almost too late?) I can tell my sails, though my lines remain somewhat insecure.

Over George's bank, we had more whale sightings and sounding. On one night watch, one jumped out of the way of our stern, but I was asleep.