Mon Nov 24, 2008 3:18 pm
Ah, you feel the romance of sail and the sense of impending adventure. You will do it Christine. You will feel the ship lurch beneath your feet, the smell of salt and tarred marlin in your nostrils. And the smell of blood from many large fish on the deck even though you try to scrub and scrub it away. And the stinky bilge water. You will sleep (or pass out) in your airless slot in the wall, or if it's too hot to sleep below deck you will sleep on deck with the wind roaring through the sails above you and flying fish plopping on the deck alongside you which you can collect later for breakfast. You will be woken for your watch after only 4 hours sleep. Every day, 4 hours on, 4 hours off. On a quiet night you may hear a snorting noise over the side of the ship which you are certain is some sort of two headed sea monster. You will struggle with the wheel as the swell tosses the ship this way and that, and when your hour or so is done at the wheel, you won't want to give it up as you have mastered the pattern of the swell. And when it is your turn to cook, you will struggle in the galley with the constant lurching, cupboards flinging open and the contents of saucepans slopping out even if the pans are secured to the stove top. You will be terrified, scared to the core when you are woken in the dark of night to the sound of 'all hands on deck' as you face a storm, struggling up on deck in the screeching wind and stinging rain to shorten sail, to do whatever is asked of you and then sit huddled with the rest of the crew at the stern to wait it out. You'll be exhausted some days when there is much sail changing to be done because it is required or because the captain decides you need the practice, but through all the exhaustion you will feel wonderful because your trip will be the very best thing you've ever done in your life.