We have each been commissioned to write an article about our lives on Roseway and try to get it published in our friendly neighborhood newspapers. Two things: one, I don't think the article I would work up is going to be quite what they want - for so many reasons - and two, what do I write about?
Maybe my adventures in getting SCUBA certified. I have had to defy medical questionnaires, spend a $2 bill on a cab out to a doctor's office and realize the pains of not actually having health insurance. After spending $85 for the doctor to tell me it was fine to dive, just be careful, I had no cash to spend on a cab back to town. So I walked the two miles along the side of the road, crunching broken glass under my flip flops. Definitely the recommended shoes for this sort of intrepid hiking. I only encountered one violently loud homeless man, one guy who rolled up next to me at an intersection and creeped me out, and one one-legged man with three crutches who shouted, "Hey white girl!" once I was a good thirty feet away. A pretty normal day.
Maybe that whole island culture thing. Last night, I saw Valentine's Day costumed Mocko Jumbies dancing to a song consisting primarily of the lyrics: "Halle Berryyyyyyyyyyy Halle Berry." The same one from Three Kings, if you remember. After declaring my life complete, I sat in a fake Irish Pub for two hours and drank real Guinness while attempting to learn a Boston accent, despite the obvious Canadian overtones in my voice.
Maybe working with kids all the time. This week, our kids were one of the best groups we've had. They were smart, attentive, well-behaved and excited. And I was faced with the challenge of teaching four Navigation lessons and one Buoyancy lesson, two things I knew practically nothing about at this time last week. I had a blast teaching the lessons as I learned them and managed to make "Science" the favorite class for many of the kids. They nailed three-point fixes and remembered everything I taught them. At the end of the week Relay Race, they insisted on calling our team "The Christines". Kimberly drew a picture and wrote a poem for and about us, declaring me the one she most admires in her heart. Nadia and I were pink Converse buddies, and Antonique and I shared a love of big sunglasses. Sometimes I think I become a ridiculous exaggeration of myself around these kids. But that's really the whole fun of it.
Maybe overcoming that dastardly fear of heights. Yesterday, I tangled a flag up in an antenna aloft. It was maybe 70, 80 feet up. So I grabbed a harness and climbed up in the dark to free the flag of Maine. Once up, I had to clip in and hold on with one hand while leaning back off the shrouds to reach the flag with my other hand. It's always scary, but it's getting better. Like the other week when I finally bested the futtocks. Really, you just have to do something that terrifies you every now and then.
Maybe anything else that has happened to me since October. So many choices. Any ideas?
Saturday, February 6, 2010
Sunday, January 24, 2010
Tour?
I am sure many things have happened since my last update, but instead I'm going to give you all a glimpse of the boat.
This is the boat with a sunset and clouds for sails. I thought it was pretty.
Next, the open hatch down to the fo'c'sle.
The ladder to the fo'c'sle.
The fo'c'sle! It's a lot like summer camp. But forever.
The kitchen cupboard down to the engine room.
The ladder down to the engine room!
And, now, I am bored of loading pictures, so I'm going to go get some lunch. Pictorial tour will be continued another day.
This is the boat with a sunset and clouds for sails. I thought it was pretty.
Next, the open hatch down to the fo'c'sle.
The ladder to the fo'c'sle.
The fo'c'sle! It's a lot like summer camp. But forever.
The kitchen cupboard down to the engine room.
The ladder down to the engine room!
And, now, I am bored of loading pictures, so I'm going to go get some lunch. Pictorial tour will be continued another day.
Saturday, January 16, 2010
Hawseball
I forgot a very important part of this past week! Hawseball!
Wednesday, we had only two people on the sail, so Cap cancelled it. Instead, we went out and had an anchor drill. It just happened to coincide with mandatory swim time.
We started out entertaining ourselves by throwing a tennis ball to each other while jumping off the side of the boat. Then it turned into Hawseball. Essentially, it was a free-for-all with each person trying to throw the tennis ball through the hawsepipe, the hole in the side of the boat through which the docklines (or hawsers) run. It was fun and a total workout. At one point, Tanner was winning, so we tied his feet together and gave him flippers to wear. He still managed to win. The one downside is playing in saltwater, which gets in your eyes, your nose and your throat and stings. A lot.
Once we tired of Hawseball, we hung a bucket over the side and played bucketball with a flat pink soccer ball with Wilson (from Castaway) drawn onto it.
Climbing back on to deck, we started to dry off when the Jolly Roger, a catamaran, sailed by. Cap ordered Tanner to swim over. So he did. Then Chris did too. They both scored free rum punch and then swam back, successful pirates.
It was a good day.
Wednesday, we had only two people on the sail, so Cap cancelled it. Instead, we went out and had an anchor drill. It just happened to coincide with mandatory swim time.
We started out entertaining ourselves by throwing a tennis ball to each other while jumping off the side of the boat. Then it turned into Hawseball. Essentially, it was a free-for-all with each person trying to throw the tennis ball through the hawsepipe, the hole in the side of the boat through which the docklines (or hawsers) run. It was fun and a total workout. At one point, Tanner was winning, so we tied his feet together and gave him flippers to wear. He still managed to win. The one downside is playing in saltwater, which gets in your eyes, your nose and your throat and stings. A lot.
Once we tired of Hawseball, we hung a bucket over the side and played bucketball with a flat pink soccer ball with Wilson (from Castaway) drawn onto it.
Climbing back on to deck, we started to dry off when the Jolly Roger, a catamaran, sailed by. Cap ordered Tanner to swim over. So he did. Then Chris did too. They both scored free rum punch and then swam back, successful pirates.
It was a good day.
Friday, January 15, 2010
Aloft
Every now and then, you just have to look your biggest fears in the face and say, “Fuck it.” Or perhaps, in the less modern sailor vernacular, "Avast!" That’s what I did yesterday. Going aloft has long been my nemesis. I’ve never really been a fan of heights. Particularly precarious ones. Anyway, you can see how this may be an issue, working on a tall ship. I have slowly been conquering this fear, choosing instead to revel in the awesomeness of being aloft. But even so, there have been limits. That limit was the futtocks.
The shrouds are the rigging that run from the rail to the top of a mast. Often, there are ratboards or ratlines that allow sailors to climb the rigging like a ladder. Hence the phrase “Shrouds and ratlines,” or whatever it is they say in Master & Commander. Anyway. The top of the shrouds dead ends into the mast. But there is still more mast. There are spreaders attached here, which are horizontal pieces of wood or metal which go out from the mast about four feet to port and starboard. New shrouds run out to the end of the spreaders, making a 45 degree angle of a ladder, going out from the boat. To climb up here, one must swing oneself around from the top ratboard to the bottom of the futtocks. Unfortunately, there aren’t really hand holds. Or footholds. Or places to clip in your harness. So, for someone with a slight fear of heights, it’s a bit terrifying.
Terrifying or not, I was told to climb aloft and detach the forward boat falls, shackled up to the foremast spreaders. So I grabbed a harness and some tools and went up. I got up there to find Mike had beaten up. Granted, I went slowly, because the part where the ratboards become as wide as your feet is a little scary. At any rate, I reached the futtocks to find an audience waiting for me. I looked up at him, standing on the spreaders on the other side of the mast, and wondered aloud, “How exactly do you do this, anyway?” Mike coached me through the process of clipping up into the futtocks, making a handhold out of nothing, putting my feet in what felt like the wrong places, and hoisting myself up. It was a little painful, wedging my foot into the crux where the futtocks meet the mast, but I managed to clamber up onto the spreaders to unmouse a shackle and release the whole boat fall assembly (a 3-to-1 purchase block and tackle attached to a metal cable shackled to the spreader). I climbed back down to deck and lowered the assembly to deck.
The rest of my project is less scary: disassemble the blocks, sand, prime and paint them, reassemble the blocks, tar the metal cable, rerig the entire thing. It’s actually quite a bit of fun, and I’m learning a lot about how blocks work and how to tar things. I also now smell like pine tar, just like a jack tar of old.
When I write a book, there’s going to have to be so much explanation to make it accessible to anyone. Sorry about these overly nautical entries. Let me know if things are confusing. Or use google.
Today was a rainy rainy day. I tried to work on my block project, but painting doesn’t work well in pouring rain. I used a break in the rain to tar the cable, but otherwise I cleaned and continued to adjust the lifting system for the small boats. We cancelled our evening sail and have been hanging out on the boat.
I finished my book, The Brief Wondrous Life of Oscar Wao, which was quite good and have written this, and now I guess I’ll relax for a while.
The shrouds are the rigging that run from the rail to the top of a mast. Often, there are ratboards or ratlines that allow sailors to climb the rigging like a ladder. Hence the phrase “Shrouds and ratlines,” or whatever it is they say in Master & Commander. Anyway. The top of the shrouds dead ends into the mast. But there is still more mast. There are spreaders attached here, which are horizontal pieces of wood or metal which go out from the mast about four feet to port and starboard. New shrouds run out to the end of the spreaders, making a 45 degree angle of a ladder, going out from the boat. To climb up here, one must swing oneself around from the top ratboard to the bottom of the futtocks. Unfortunately, there aren’t really hand holds. Or footholds. Or places to clip in your harness. So, for someone with a slight fear of heights, it’s a bit terrifying.
Terrifying or not, I was told to climb aloft and detach the forward boat falls, shackled up to the foremast spreaders. So I grabbed a harness and some tools and went up. I got up there to find Mike had beaten up. Granted, I went slowly, because the part where the ratboards become as wide as your feet is a little scary. At any rate, I reached the futtocks to find an audience waiting for me. I looked up at him, standing on the spreaders on the other side of the mast, and wondered aloud, “How exactly do you do this, anyway?” Mike coached me through the process of clipping up into the futtocks, making a handhold out of nothing, putting my feet in what felt like the wrong places, and hoisting myself up. It was a little painful, wedging my foot into the crux where the futtocks meet the mast, but I managed to clamber up onto the spreaders to unmouse a shackle and release the whole boat fall assembly (a 3-to-1 purchase block and tackle attached to a metal cable shackled to the spreader). I climbed back down to deck and lowered the assembly to deck.
The rest of my project is less scary: disassemble the blocks, sand, prime and paint them, reassemble the blocks, tar the metal cable, rerig the entire thing. It’s actually quite a bit of fun, and I’m learning a lot about how blocks work and how to tar things. I also now smell like pine tar, just like a jack tar of old.
When I write a book, there’s going to have to be so much explanation to make it accessible to anyone. Sorry about these overly nautical entries. Let me know if things are confusing. Or use google.
Today was a rainy rainy day. I tried to work on my block project, but painting doesn’t work well in pouring rain. I used a break in the rain to tar the cable, but otherwise I cleaned and continued to adjust the lifting system for the small boats. We cancelled our evening sail and have been hanging out on the boat.
I finished my book, The Brief Wondrous Life of Oscar Wao, which was quite good and have written this, and now I guess I’ll relax for a while.
Thursday, January 7, 2010
2010!
It’s hard to not like a new year that has brought so many crazy things into my life already.
On the first, we sailed with Jimmy Carter and his entire family.
On the second, we drove to Frederiksted to watch the Three Kings Parade. The Adults’ parade. In rebellion against Jess’ war on sugar, I began my day with a slice of pizza and three jello shots. Then, we waited anxiously for the parade. Of course, we’re on Cruzan time, so it was awfully late and awfully slow. We hung out and took pictures instead. Then the parade showed up. People in floats kept dancing to this ridiculous song. The words we could pick out were “Halle Berryyyyyyyy Halle Berry” and “Put your hands up! Put your hands down! Spin around!” and “Walk up with your two hands up!” It was catchy. Apparently, they pick one song every year and everyone dances to it. So we heard this song for the duration of the four hour parade.
There was also a bouncing truck full of steel pans.
And Mocko Jumbies!
Afterwards, we went to the carnival for a bit, rode the Tilt-a-whirl then decided to go get dinner. Mike, Tanner and I walked back to the other side of town to discover our car had developed a nasty flat tire. And that the jack and tire iron were not in the car. So, we made friends with passing motorists and changed the tire. Then we got lost on the way across the island. Eventually, we made it to Cane Bay and I finally retrieved the Rocket Widget from the inside of a Guinness bottle after dinner.
On the third, I discovered that my friend Emily from high school is on this season of the Real World, in DC.
On the fourth, it was my birthday. I scraped, sanded, painted and sailed. But then Jess kicked me out of the galley, so that my dinner would be a surprise. I had already figured it out, though. Sushi! Plus, rice noodle soup and edamame, which were surprises. Then, though, she brought out my cake. Sugar-free, yes, shaped and decorated like R2D2, yes. I was speechless. I'll the pictures soon. It was amazing. We headed into town for drinks and found an awesome latin reggae band playing at Brew Pub.
On the fifth, I don't really remember what was awesome. Oh, it might have been that I got to do some bosunry projects. Splicing, knots, figuring out little problems. I love doing those things because I can make something. I hate painting and scraping because it seems like an unskilled task that I am doing because they need someone to do it, not because I am good at it.
On the sixth, I got an island phone, so now I can use a phone like a normal person. And I got to talk to Anna in Indonesia for the first time since she left.
On the seventh, we had our Tapas sail, featuring Jess and her amazing cooking. It went amazingly smoothly and everyone was really happy. And I finally updated my blog.
This is my bunk space. Luckily, I also have a bottom bunk for my clothes and luggage. Normally, a sailor has only this one space.
Sunset under the staysail. Only it's a fishing schooner, so the sail is called the jumbo. I have no idea why.
On the first, we sailed with Jimmy Carter and his entire family.
On the second, we drove to Frederiksted to watch the Three Kings Parade. The Adults’ parade. In rebellion against Jess’ war on sugar, I began my day with a slice of pizza and three jello shots. Then, we waited anxiously for the parade. Of course, we’re on Cruzan time, so it was awfully late and awfully slow. We hung out and took pictures instead. Then the parade showed up. People in floats kept dancing to this ridiculous song. The words we could pick out were “Halle Berryyyyyyyy Halle Berry” and “Put your hands up! Put your hands down! Spin around!” and “Walk up with your two hands up!” It was catchy. Apparently, they pick one song every year and everyone dances to it. So we heard this song for the duration of the four hour parade.
There was also a bouncing truck full of steel pans.
And Mocko Jumbies!
Afterwards, we went to the carnival for a bit, rode the Tilt-a-whirl then decided to go get dinner. Mike, Tanner and I walked back to the other side of town to discover our car had developed a nasty flat tire. And that the jack and tire iron were not in the car. So, we made friends with passing motorists and changed the tire. Then we got lost on the way across the island. Eventually, we made it to Cane Bay and I finally retrieved the Rocket Widget from the inside of a Guinness bottle after dinner.
On the third, I discovered that my friend Emily from high school is on this season of the Real World, in DC.
On the fourth, it was my birthday. I scraped, sanded, painted and sailed. But then Jess kicked me out of the galley, so that my dinner would be a surprise. I had already figured it out, though. Sushi! Plus, rice noodle soup and edamame, which were surprises. Then, though, she brought out my cake. Sugar-free, yes, shaped and decorated like R2D2, yes. I was speechless. I'll the pictures soon. It was amazing. We headed into town for drinks and found an awesome latin reggae band playing at Brew Pub.
On the fifth, I don't really remember what was awesome. Oh, it might have been that I got to do some bosunry projects. Splicing, knots, figuring out little problems. I love doing those things because I can make something. I hate painting and scraping because it seems like an unskilled task that I am doing because they need someone to do it, not because I am good at it.
On the sixth, I got an island phone, so now I can use a phone like a normal person. And I got to talk to Anna in Indonesia for the first time since she left.
On the seventh, we had our Tapas sail, featuring Jess and her amazing cooking. It went amazingly smoothly and everyone was really happy. And I finally updated my blog.
This is my bunk space. Luckily, I also have a bottom bunk for my clothes and luggage. Normally, a sailor has only this one space.
Sunset under the staysail. Only it's a fishing schooner, so the sail is called the jumbo. I have no idea why.
Friday, January 1, 2010
A New Year
2009 was many amazing things. I turned 21, I took a trip back to California and finally went to Disneyland, I took a trip to New Orleans for a real college Spring Break, I published some photography, I graduated. I became a sailor and a pirate and lived in Chicago. I did an Atlantic off-shore transit and now I live in the Virgin Islands.
2010 is off to a rocking start. On the first day of 2010, I saved Jimmy Carter from falling off my boat twice, his wife told me she liked my monkey's fist necklace and his great-grandson became my new bff because of his "Han Solo Frozen in Carbonite" impression.
Yes, that's right. I spent my evening with former President Jimmy Carter, his wife, their extended family and the Secret Service.
Life, what are you coming to?
In other news, I spent New Year's Eve on watch. Stuck on the boat, cleaning and looking after things. Luckily, it was docked for the night, so I didn't have to ferry people around. However, that means that it made a lot more scary and disturbing noises than usual. It also rained all day long. Our sail was one of the most exciting things ever.
It's so hard to find the words to describe how amazing sailing is sometimes. That feeling when it's you and your foulie pants against 20-25 knots of wind, a rainstorm, 6 foot swells, and puking passengers. Rain pelts your eyes as you climb into the headrig to pull in a sopping wet and heavy jib and try to flake and furl it. I love the rush of being on a tall ship in rough weather. There's nothing like it. If 2010 doesn't continue to have adventures like this, I don't know what I'll do.
Oh, yes, and Jess, our professionally trained chef (she studied at the Culinary Institute of America), has decided that she is bored. Therefore, she is giving up processed sugar for the next month. Therefore, so are the rest of us as long as we eat on the boat. Yesterday, six of us ate our last tray of brownies and killed a gallon of ice cream.
2010 is off to a rocking start. On the first day of 2010, I saved Jimmy Carter from falling off my boat twice, his wife told me she liked my monkey's fist necklace and his great-grandson became my new bff because of his "Han Solo Frozen in Carbonite" impression.
Yes, that's right. I spent my evening with former President Jimmy Carter, his wife, their extended family and the Secret Service.
Life, what are you coming to?
In other news, I spent New Year's Eve on watch. Stuck on the boat, cleaning and looking after things. Luckily, it was docked for the night, so I didn't have to ferry people around. However, that means that it made a lot more scary and disturbing noises than usual. It also rained all day long. Our sail was one of the most exciting things ever.
It's so hard to find the words to describe how amazing sailing is sometimes. That feeling when it's you and your foulie pants against 20-25 knots of wind, a rainstorm, 6 foot swells, and puking passengers. Rain pelts your eyes as you climb into the headrig to pull in a sopping wet and heavy jib and try to flake and furl it. I love the rush of being on a tall ship in rough weather. There's nothing like it. If 2010 doesn't continue to have adventures like this, I don't know what I'll do.
Oh, yes, and Jess, our professionally trained chef (she studied at the Culinary Institute of America), has decided that she is bored. Therefore, she is giving up processed sugar for the next month. Therefore, so are the rest of us as long as we eat on the boat. Yesterday, six of us ate our last tray of brownies and killed a gallon of ice cream.
Saturday, December 26, 2009
Caribbean Christmas
Ah, the hallmarks of the holiday season. A foot of snow covering my car in the morning, turning in that final paper that means I am free from one more semester, carols that I have been hearing since April finally seeming appropriate, bundling up in a warm hat and blanket and sitting in front of a fire with hot chocolate and a book, 24 hours of A Christmas Story on TV, a tree that barely fits in the living room, testing all of the decorative Christmas lights, ransacking the storage room for the Christmas boxes we only open once a year which contain the wrapping paper and tree ornaments.
My first Christmas away from home featured none of those hallmark moments. I woke up Christmas morning in my bunk in the fo’c’sle. I was sweating from the heat, but turned off my fan anyway, to conserve electricity. I stumbled sleepily up the ladder on to deck, finding not a snowy morning, but ominous thunder clouds approaching over the island of St. Croix and a surprisingly calm ocean surrounding me. I walked into the galley to find my chipper crewmates, all wide awake and well caffeinated, cooking Christmas breakfast.
I am accustomed to fighting my brothers to get to the Christmas presents first, but as all of the crew is away from home, there no presents under a tree. There was no tree. There were no stockings. There were mimosas and fruit salads and a rain shower. After cleaning up breakfast, Tanner and I took a dinghy ashore to find some beer for our Christmas afternoon aboard the boat his parents chartered. We dropped off a few local brews on their catamaran and swung back by Roseway to pick up the rest of the crew.
I climbed back up the ladder lashed to the hull of the schooner. As I cleared the rail, I spotted a Boy Scout Popcorn box sitting on the bench. I knew it had to be for me. I immediately tore it open and was assaulted with an intoxicating amount of holiday familiarity. A selection of Christmas presents from my parents and brother, wrapped in the same Harry Potter wrapping paper that has been used for my presents since early high school, sat on top of my stocking, personalized by me back in fifth grade. I had no time to bask in the homeliness and excitement, as my crewmates wanted to leave.
By the time we had dropped anchor at Buck Island, I had raised and dropped the tiny mainsail of the catamaran and gushed over the luxuriousness of the quarters in each of the twin hulls. My Christmas adventures rarely extend beyond a Nerf battle in the living room. Normally, I lounge with my brothers, eat candy and watch my mom cook and my dad make pie. This Christmas, I snorkeled for manta rays, but my mask was foggy, so I came back up on to the boat and read the Worst Case Scenario Survival Handbook and argued with some of its ideas.
Once dinner time rolled around, we were up in the hills of the island at the home of a friend of the boat. They left for the holidays, so we used their kitchen and house. Jess made us an amazing dinner, as usual, and I felt kind of awkward and left out. I have yet to connect to these shipmates in the way I did my last crew, and celebrating such a family-oriented holiday such as Christmas was odd. Especially because dessert wasn’t a pie that my dad had spent all afternoon making nor did dinner feature ham, cranberry sauce or yams. Overall, it was probably good to be able to spend a Christmas away from home; it has made me appreciate home so much more. Familiarity and the ability to go home are two things I have really missed during this tall ship adventure and two things that I am really looking forward to having back.
My first Christmas away from home featured none of those hallmark moments. I woke up Christmas morning in my bunk in the fo’c’sle. I was sweating from the heat, but turned off my fan anyway, to conserve electricity. I stumbled sleepily up the ladder on to deck, finding not a snowy morning, but ominous thunder clouds approaching over the island of St. Croix and a surprisingly calm ocean surrounding me. I walked into the galley to find my chipper crewmates, all wide awake and well caffeinated, cooking Christmas breakfast.
I am accustomed to fighting my brothers to get to the Christmas presents first, but as all of the crew is away from home, there no presents under a tree. There was no tree. There were no stockings. There were mimosas and fruit salads and a rain shower. After cleaning up breakfast, Tanner and I took a dinghy ashore to find some beer for our Christmas afternoon aboard the boat his parents chartered. We dropped off a few local brews on their catamaran and swung back by Roseway to pick up the rest of the crew.
I climbed back up the ladder lashed to the hull of the schooner. As I cleared the rail, I spotted a Boy Scout Popcorn box sitting on the bench. I knew it had to be for me. I immediately tore it open and was assaulted with an intoxicating amount of holiday familiarity. A selection of Christmas presents from my parents and brother, wrapped in the same Harry Potter wrapping paper that has been used for my presents since early high school, sat on top of my stocking, personalized by me back in fifth grade. I had no time to bask in the homeliness and excitement, as my crewmates wanted to leave.
By the time we had dropped anchor at Buck Island, I had raised and dropped the tiny mainsail of the catamaran and gushed over the luxuriousness of the quarters in each of the twin hulls. My Christmas adventures rarely extend beyond a Nerf battle in the living room. Normally, I lounge with my brothers, eat candy and watch my mom cook and my dad make pie. This Christmas, I snorkeled for manta rays, but my mask was foggy, so I came back up on to the boat and read the Worst Case Scenario Survival Handbook and argued with some of its ideas.
Once dinner time rolled around, we were up in the hills of the island at the home of a friend of the boat. They left for the holidays, so we used their kitchen and house. Jess made us an amazing dinner, as usual, and I felt kind of awkward and left out. I have yet to connect to these shipmates in the way I did my last crew, and celebrating such a family-oriented holiday such as Christmas was odd. Especially because dessert wasn’t a pie that my dad had spent all afternoon making nor did dinner feature ham, cranberry sauce or yams. Overall, it was probably good to be able to spend a Christmas away from home; it has made me appreciate home so much more. Familiarity and the ability to go home are two things I have really missed during this tall ship adventure and two things that I am really looking forward to having back.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
