|
December is once again set to yield power back to January, its unwavering usurper, and we find ourselves at the end of another year.
Personally, it’s been a year of coming full circle as a sailor. I spent the summer sailing as deckhand/medical officer/bosun onboard the Schooner Harvey Gamage, the same ship where I first fell in love with seafaring as a kid. On top of that, while getting some formal marine safety training last month and found that the man with the beard sitting next to me was the captain of the Harvey Gamage that same week when I was there ten years ago.
I have found this year that life at sea augments all of the traits in me that I knew existed, yet hadn’t really been tested: commitment, courage, leadership, and selflessness. If life on a tall ship can’t bring these out in you, then you don’t have them. For my part, I was pleased to meet them. This is the steady thrill of life as a mariner – life seasoned with salt.
|
|
Today was a great day, warm skies, no rain, ideal for working aloft. It’s a welcome patch in what has been maddeningly topsy-turvy weather here. The amount of work that has to get done aloft in the ship’s rig before winter was becoming overwhelming.
The weather teases us.
Sometimes it teases me by shining the warm sun, nudging my way a pleasant little morsel of autumn wind now and then, and I think, “what a perfect day for going aloft to do this three hour job I’ve been needing to do!” Then, five minutes into my work, a gang of thick, mud-and-steel clouds surround the friendly sun and pounce. I presume they do so with a snicker. The wind picks up, the temperature drops, and with their cruel, uncanny precision, the same thugs that jumped my workmate spit sleet or stinging snow flurries at me. My exposed hands, gripped around the shrouds, go numb. I finish the job. Why? Because I am a sailor, not a sally. Though I do generally go into the furnace-warmed galley for a thaw by hot cocoa afterwards.
Three times now this conniving atmosphere has greeted us with warm sun and gentle breeze serving as flimsy façade for the incoming gale or a hurricane, and we are forced to waste the nice weather, instead buttoning down docking gear and making sure we are secure for the storms. Then, the next day, bright and sunny again, to tease us as we work cleaning and repairing the damage done by the devious douche-bag weather systems.
The rest of the time: drizzly.
But not today.
Today was clear. There is the promise of storms tomorrow, but nothing so drastic we would need to drop our work and get to preparations. Today we chalked off nearly half the list of the work that needs to be done aloft before the freeze of winter and all the snow and ice come and take tenement here for the next months.
The days have been ticking away louder and louder as the calendar pulls us closer and closer to that time, and work has been slow, and the list has been looming.
Most days, of the three deck crew, I am the only one working aloft. Ryan, a volunteer from Halifax, and Shackle, a deckhand from Norway, are doing things on deck and in the warehouse that also must get done.
But not today.
Today we had visitors, old friends from past voyages here to say hey, and eat our food, and help out with the dishes, and reminisce, and tell new jokes, and – ghasp! – help with the ship’s work! There were three people aloft today! We packed sheaves with grease! We sealed up the wire stays! We downrigged weatherworn and unused bits of rigging! It was a very exciting time. At the end of the day, the entire foremast was ready for winter’s worst, leaving only the main and mizzen masts, which don’t have quite so much that need to be done. Ryan made pork chops for dinner, I made important steps towards getting my necessary certifications, the work aloft has a significant and happy dent, I am covered in the glorious, barbecue-smoke-and-wood-chip-scent of pine tar, I took a hot shower, and I will sleep well tonight. A great day.
|
