So... What is it you do again?

Sometimes, life does really weird things to you. Sometimes you find yourself going from no job prospects to three job offers in a week, and then you suddenly can't decide whether to be the third mate on a schooner, a deckhand on a brig, or an... um... arbitrary random person on a full rigger. And when life gives you that decision, I hope you choose well.

I chose arbitrary random person.

Now, in order to explain this choice, I suppose I should explain the difference between these boats. One was a pretty ordinary schooner, not much different than the one I worked on last year. The second was bigger and better (okay, that's totally arbitrary, but everyone can definitely agree it's bigger and has more sails and is more complicated), but the third, well. A full rigged vessel, over two hundred feet long, with fifteen square sails and a mess of triangles. Over 220 lines, around 30 sails, accommodations for up to seventy trainees and fifteen professional crew. It made my boat-loving/semi-piratical heart go pitter-pat. I mean- how could I resist this?

I threw all other considerations to the wind. And thus I found myself finishing my last day of work at my outdoor science school on a Friday, throwing a farewell party on Saturday, driving to Los Angeles on Sunday and then leaving for Nova Scotia on Monday. My long-suffering parents accepted this abuse with relatively minimal complaint; I think I've numbed them by now. Yet it was a little too ambitious, even for crazy adventure-hungry me, since that really only left me with 26 hours to vacate the hoboshack, triage my possessions, wash everything, re-pack, and hit up a couple important chores (like doctor appointments before I become too old to get health care). My quick turnaround and then fourteen hour red-eye flight left me bleary and exhausted, stumbling around Halifax airport, laden with a backpack, a duffel bag and a ukulele, wondering what I would do if no one came to pick me up.

Fortunately, after about 45 minutes of sitting dazedly outside of customs, I was collected by a slightly kooky Kiwi. He loaded me and two others into a van and away we went.

It was on this car ride that I began objectively considering my somewhat rash choice. These two others in the van with me were past students, volunteers, and seemed to know way more about everything than I did. When I revealed that I was, as far as I knew, a member of the crew, they were taken aback.

“Really? What position are you?”

To which I had no better response than to shake my weary head and shrug. “Not a clue.”

My only comfort was that the boat had paid for me to fly from Los Angeles to Nova Scotia, so they must have wanted me for something. Hopefully not cannibalism. I'd signed a contract that said I could get ten hours off a day, and at least six in a row, so that seemed promising. (Some might think crazy is a better word, but that's objective, you know?)

When I arrived onboard, my new friends were shuffled off to volunteer land and I was taken aft to meet the crew. Upon my introduction, everyone's response was the same. “Oh, you're Halley.” Was I infamous already??? I hadn't done anything more than maybe pack a few too many things!

It turns out I was something of an enigma. I was a day later than the rest of the crew and no one knew what to expect of me. My supervisor had images of me as an intense sailor chick with tattoos, bulging muscles and the tendency to tie people to the masts with my awesome knot skills when they pestered me (two of those things are sort of true, but I comforted her a great deal by being my rather silly self).

What was even more of an enigma was my job onboard the ship. I was arbitrarily labeled Program- Deck... what that meant, no one really knew. I was to teach people about Seamanship and well, um, do other stuff.

And so that's what I've been doing. I teach people knots, line handling, climbing, sail theory, navigation, really whatever I feel like teaching whenever I want. When I'm not doing that, you can find me doing everything from scrubbing floors and doing laundry to working gangway or anchor watch to working on maintenance projects. When we're setting sail, you'll always find me on deck, unless of course we're aloft, and then you'll find me in the air. I'm the boat's official odd jobs girl, and since no one is really in charge of me, I make it up as I go along. I look for places I'm needed and do whatever I can find that's necessary. My goal is to have done everything on this boat by the end of August. It's going to be an interesting summer.