Discomforts and Current Sea States.

There are certain discomforts a man should not have to live with. Some
consider being at sea a discomfort in and of itself- I am not one of these.
Being at sea while covered in hives, however, is something I feel I should
not have to live with. It's bullpoop.

The unlicensed crew laundry has four machines: two washing machines (one a
front loader) and two dryers (one of which is not working). There is also a
giant box of detergent, which is labeled "floor cleaner," but goes on to say
"can be used for laundry" further down the label. I took one look at and
then said to myself "Since I am allergic to detergent, and that looks just
like the detergent I am allergic to, I am bringing my own hypoallergenic
cleaner."

Unfortunately, that detergent powder doesn't dissolve, gets into every nook
and cranny of the machines, and causes anaphylactic shock in even the
hardiest of souls. My hypoallergenic detergent? When mixed with the
undissolved powder? Pointless. The Boatswain, "Bozey," being one of these
hardy souls whose skin revolts at said chemicals provided me with a tube of
cortisone cream to bolster the diphenhydromine the chief mate/chief medical
officer gave me. Ready for TMI? Hives occur the most severely where the
skin is most tender and sensitive... arm pit, leg pit... no difference. I
dismantled the top loader, scrubbed it of the offending detergent, rinsed
and ran and empty load, then did all my towels, sheets, and clothes. It's
been two days of hell. Hopefully the hives don't strike again and I have
solved my issues.

Sirius was so bright tonight it was playing hell with the rods in my eyes
and ruining my night vision. For those who don't know, a ship's bridge is
pitch black at night. All the computer displays are in red, blue, or green
(no white) light and incredibly dim- in fact, the easiest knob to find is
always the dimmer. It takes a good 5 minutes to get used to the levels, and
about 15 before you can see what you're doing. It's why you never shine
your flood light at the bridge of a boat at night (which is called
"embarrassing" for some damned reason). The stars over the Mediterranean
off the Egyptian coast are so painfully brilliant that even
impossible-to-miss Orion disappears in a sea of back-lighting. Through the
binoculars are 15 stars for every single one visible to the naked eye- it's
truly captivating. Poor Polaris, though, is washed out... Kochab, too.
Seems down here at 32 degrees latitude the northern stars struggle to be
brilliant in light of their oblique angle to the atmosphere.

So we're getting ready to go into port, taking on a pilot at 0900. The
whole song and dance of rigging the ladder, posting a watch on the bow,
taking on the pilot, hand steering the ship in, accommodating the tug,
throwing and retrieving of lines, rigging the gang plank, and everything
else it takes to dock a ship will be underway in short order. Nobody is
expected to go into town, though. As I overheard one of the crew say this
morning, "the Egyptians were more advanced a thousand years ago." The
danger level to the crew who leave the port is considered very high, and
everything will be in lock-down here on the ship as the longshoremen do
cargo. Apparently if it isn't locked down the Egyptians will steal it. If
we see one in the house we're to apprehend them and radio for assistance in
escorting them out.

Yesterday the sky was filled with small, puffy cumulous clouds which cast
black shadows on 2 meter following seas that were a deep royal blue and
covered with many highly contrasting white horses. The seas moved at a
different rate than the clouds' shadows and it looked like the most perfect
sailing weather imaginable. Today's seas range from olive to hazel, and
though they are lumpy, the color flattens it all out.