Preface: I wrote this aboard the Cramer for the ship’s blog and it was rejected by the program. So, I figured I should make use of it somewhere.
Just the beginning of our life together.
Position: 29 0.5’N x 076º 42.2’W
Heading: 100º PSC
Speed: 5 kts
Weather: Wind SSW F5. Sea SSW 5ft
25 February 2011
Cramer’s Log Stardate 2252011. The ocean stole my hat today. And my chapstick. Everyone’s been telling you about the gleaming good stuff of life at sea, but it’s time to hear the gritty truth. My vomit count is in the double digits, I’ve spent probably 50% of my time aboard the Cramer cleaning, and I think the sun is spelling out the word “melanoma” in heat rash bumps on my arms.
Neuston net tows are really just buckets of nematocysts waiting to explode unicellular harpoons of biotoxins into your eager hands.
There are 19 bruises on my legs from traversing a constantly convulsing terrain (Note: I bruise really easily, and they are mostly tiny bruises. But there are 19).
Two words: mouth herpes. I have it. Good thing we have sanitizing water that will kill anything from H1N1 to AIDS in the galley.
Living on the sea seems to multiply and magnify land-life events and ailments. But the same could be said for the experience overall.
If I wanted to be completely honest about each of these complaints, I would also tell you I’ve gotten over my sea sickness and ride Cramer through big swells with glee, we live on a pristine and beautiful ship, and my mood is generally bursting with vitamin D overload thanks to the dramatic sun increase over my Alaskan norm.
The animals that come out of the neuston tows are both the subject of my SEA project and the reason I am here on the Cramer. Gelatinous zooplankton (i.e. jellyfish), while posing a minor threat to your comfort, are awe-inspiring examples of the mystery and wonder of ocean life. Said squishy things are the inspiration for my aspirations to be a marine biologist, and exactly the organisms I was hoping to encounter on this Atlantic voyage. Plus, they are basically aliens, which is awesome.
Walking up and down the deck is always an adventure, but there are extensive safety measures in place to ensure we make it from one end to the other and remain aboard the boat. There is a certain sailorly pride that comes with developing sea legs, and I am confident the bumps and bruises will decrease as we hone our sea swaggers.
To explain the cold sore (mouth herpes, not to be confused with any other kind of more serious herpes). The virus is actually present in most of the human population and emerges as cold sores when lips are stressed from sun, wind, or dehydration. The cold sore is just a minor and very manageable side effect of our tropical vacation.
So, even though we sleep in 3-4 hour increments, my feet are shedding sheets of skin, and my bunk smells like the kid in elementary school that no one talked to because he only showered every three days, wore the same clothes for weeks at a time, and slept with his dirty laundry (oh
At anchor with no sails up, but it's still a little impressive.
yeah, we do that), we are living and doing science on a boat. Such is the price of a unique and rewarding, truly once-in-a-lifetime experience.
Now for some (literally) gleaming good stuff. I must tell you that one of my favorite spots aboard the Cramer is the bow of the ship on night look-out. Bow watch is spent watching for boat traffic and other potential hazards, but it is also a brief moment of alone time with the stars. Last time I was on bow watch, however, the twinkle seemed to extend below the horizon and saturate the ocean below. Each wave passing under the bow crashed with a sprinkled glow of bioluminescent copepods and dinoflagellates. It was magical.
Disclaimer: To any parents/readers not accustomed to the Mary Krauszer writing style, do not be alarmed by the contents of this entry. Although based in reality, details may be slightly embellished for stylistic effect. But really, it’s all true, and your children will be fine.
Oh, and my hair is normal. If you can ignore the maroon blotches.
Also, Cat Jenks and I are friends now. Yesssss.
Our port call on the topical island of Dominica. I suppose parts of the program were actually quite perfect.