Motion of the Ocean

So, I've sailed some cool places. I've sailed some awesome boats. But now, I'm doing both at the same time. This summer's hard work paid off and now I'm an Ordinary Seaman on board a 210 foot full-rigged vessel on a two month voyage from Europe to Africa to the Caribbean. It's so bleeping rad.

The Great Lakes coddled me though. I'd forgotten what the ocean was like. It's big. It's blue. And it moves all the freaking time. The ten foot swells meet us on our quarter (back corner of the ship), rolling the whole ship twenty degrees to port as we climb to the peak, and then we tip over twenty degrees to starboard as we plunge down into the trough. This happens every thirty seconds or so. For days. Welcome to a world of constant motion where gravity can shift up to sixty degrees in less time than it takes to walk through a doorway. Unsurprisingly, this makes life... interesting.

Take my cabin for example. All of my stuff lives on shelves with doors that open to port. This is terrifying in this kind of seaway. I have to time it just right- find the right door, wait till the ship rolls to starboard, open cupboard, locate item. I've learned the hard way not to be hasty. If I grab the item at this point, too many things can go wrong and then it's too late and all of my stuff is pouring out on my head. Instead, I shut the door and hold it tight as the boat rolls to port, making sure to brace myself as well. Things slam against the door, but worry not! they've been doing that all day, survived thus far and my interference will only lead to chaos and ruin.

The ship rolls away again- now is the time for action. I swing open the cabinet door, carefully and quickly snatch the necessary item, toss it somewhere it won't roll and then slam shut the door because, oh god, now the boat is rolling back towards me and gravity is a cruel mistress when I find myself suddenly beneath a bunch of my unsecured items. Woe and suffering await if something gets caught between the shelves and the door- with only two arms, I can't cover three shelves and attempting to close the door partially will result in a narrow torrent of stuff that I then have the added challenge of replacing.

Needless to day, I spend more time than I care to calculate lunging about a rocking boat collecting my escaping possessions.

But wait- I can't just spend all my day trying to get things out of my shelves. There's tasks to be done. Like painting shelves! The Bosun handed me my tools and left me to the mercy of an open bucket of paint, a wet brush and roller, a paint covered board and a stir stick. The Bosun is a cruel, cruel man. Imagine juggling, balancing, and painting at the same time. Yup. It was kind of like that.

All this is worth it, of course. Since I'm insane, I think it's fun, and soon we'll be in Morocco.