North Atlantic

We left Norfolk in 30 knot winds and hit 30 foot seas immediately outside
the harbor. That might be a problem if I wasn't in a 900 foot ship- sure,
it makes moving around with heavy crap in tow a bit of a chore, but the ride
up on the bow is exceptional! Winds hit a steady 45 - 50 knots with the
highest recorded gust of our encounter with Hurricane Sandra so far at 91
knots. I spent two days up on the catwalks between the containers with a
short piece of 3/4" rebar tightening turn-buckles and beating stopper-nuts
tight. Nothing says caveman like a club. Nothing says thrill-ride like
dropping 50 feet in 3 seconds, then watching a turquoise mountain turn into
white wings 200 feet across under the stem below you with an indescribable
roar...

We are currently 100 miles south of Labrador on a "great circle" around to
the north of the storm and we're in the upper right quarter of it. My
watches have begun in earnest and the sleep deprivation is slowly, slowly
being overcome now that I know When I'm supposed to be Where without being
explicitly being told to do so- my watch routine has been established for
hundreds of years (if not thousands) as "The Midnight Watch." I'm just the
piece that goes there, the cog in that machine. And I just need to know it.
Or suffer reproachful looks and open mockery.

Spent all morning doing "wash-down," which, as you may have already guessed,
involves washing stuff down. With fire hoses. It is a little bit wet, but
also enthralling in the same captivating way that subconsciously picking
lint from your bellybutton can be... I am much more aware of the spray from
the bow going up hundreds of feet into the air and cascading back over the
towering containers, carried on the 60 knot apparent winds (we're doing 20
knots), than I am the rust going over the side.

My watch partner, a 26 year old 2nd mate who knows everything about
everything, ever (I am embarrassed to have ever been 25, quite honestly),
heeded my advise last night to his benefit. We were in an overtaking
situation, a risk of collision existed, but he was relying on the radar
tracking to tell him what my eyes clearly saw without ever doing any math or
letting a navigational aid do the math for me- the guy ahead of us was
cutting across our bow. The overtaken vessel is always the stand on vessel.
We had to change our heading.

Finally and begrudgingly he altered course in time for the Captain to make
an unannounced visit to the bridge, where I had to refrain from laughing as
this kid explained what was going on, trying to make it an event that didn't
involve the Ordinary in any way, whatsoever. It is painful standing watch
with him, truth be told- his tastes in movies is the exact inverse of mine,
his taste in books exists not even in theory, on any timeline throughout
time and/or space, so our conversations are fleeting, exploratory things
which die slow, whimpering deaths, smothered under awkward silences... Sea
Time. That's why I'm here. I am the OS, and I don't know shit.

I get along great with the 2nd mate, though, who hawsepiped up from Deck to
the bridge... he's a damned fine navigator, too.

OK... this blog is being posted via satellite phone as a text-only email to
my blogger.com address. No photos, no edits, and just in time to go to
sleep! Food and sleep are all consuming items to think about out here. I'm
just saying.