Sea Cows! Albatross! Constellations! Oh My!

We set sail from Honolulu bound for Oakland in the afternoon, a rare sailing time which afforded us a spectacular view of the city and the island as we departed on what is known in the industry as “The Pineapple Run.”  The ever-present rainbows milled in the factories of the ever-present cloud-cover over Oahu’s drenched, tropical summit sent us merrily on our way.  Mahalo nui.  Aloha.

"Swing her around!" In the turning basin.

The view from my office- aka "the stern."

The night skies this run have been dominated by the northern sky out our port window- Ursula Major and Cassiopea pinwheeling around the “Little Bear,” offset by Cepheus and Auriga like the teeth of the gears that drive the rest of the heavens around the axle of Polaris; out our starboard window has been nothing but dark clouds belonging to the low pressure cell assaulting our quarter with 4 meter swells since leaving the protection of Oahu’s lee, setting up a wicked roll that has thrown my personal effects into perpetual disarray.  

Produce in Honolulu's Chinatown.

Hawaiian bananas in Chinatown.

Although I know it isn’t possible, it seems every time I look to the zenith of this nightly drama Scorpio has been there, pointing back the way we came, Libra and Sagittarius boxing the constellation in faintly, and - somewhere astern shrouded in the mists, stack gas, and humidity - is Capricorn, straddling the ecliptic like Billy Goat Gruff on a stone bridge.  Jupiter has glared hotly from our quarter as if angry at being shown the back of our shoulder.

Normally when I see albatross they are out alone, 500 miles from the nearest shore, unhindered by wind or waves.  Yesterday morning the ship had, curiously, four laysan albatross that repeatedly raced hither and thither the length of the ship hunting squid in our wake much like red-footed boobies (“boobies!”) hunting for flying fish… it seemed peculiar behaviour to me, however, Seabirds of the World said this is their common practice and now I must believe my own lying eyes.  The birdwatching third mate of the relieving watch informed me a fifth bird joined them later.

On close inspection I noted that two of the birds were graceful and well-versed in the art of strafing the bridgewing where I stood, giving me a quick sidelong glance each time as if to say “good morning, biped monkey,” or- as I suspect- merely to repeatedly examine me and conclude “Not-Food.”  

The other two birds, however, flew awkwardly and unsteadily so I concluded they were youngsters out with their wise elders, learning the tricks of the trade.  The birdwatcher had a name for where in the life-cycle these juveniles were, a term I have since forgotten, but he also told me of the Royal Albatross who repeatedly circumnavigate Antarctica, mate for life, and that researchers are now learning can live more than 60 years.

Oh, and two more "green flashes" were seen by this sailor... I am becoming adept at spotting when they're going to send the sun on its way under the horizon.

Sunset over an open lifeboat (yes, they still do exist).

The view afforded the 4x8 Watch.

Meanwhile, in the mundanity of shipboard life, one of my shipmates has earned the ire of the crew with horrible flatulence that sets him to giggling like a twelve year old when he stealthily offends us all.  Well, today was the last straw for me and I vowed revenge.  I have mixed a concoction of sour milk, yogurt, yeast, and sardines with which I will saturate a rag and place it in his air vent.  I needed a distraction from the routine, anyway.

I saw a low, bushy blow as we approached the traffic separation scheme that directs vessel traffic into Oakland, but there weren’t enough identifying details to pin down what it was.  I suspect either a pilot or a humpback whale, but that’s merely guesswork.  The shearwaters were out hunting for breakfast as the sun came up, and by the time I drove us under the Golden Gate Bridge and hung a right just after Alcatraz, the day had turned glorious and warm.  No more rolling like a drunken whore.  No more freezing in the North Pacific Current.  No more sea watches.

Yeah... as a matter of fact, this is where I drive the ship... and this is what I see.

I’m on the beach, car is rented, and I don’t have to work for another 16 hours!  Holy cow!

Oh… I almost forgot to mention:  We had special containers full of live cows on this trip.  The person who cares for them was aboard, too- a job position called a “stocktender,” but I didn’t get an opportunity to talk to him about his job at all.  What I did get, however, was a surprise while clearing decks when leaving Hono- a face full of cows!  I thought they might mind the rolling, but they were a happy-looking lot, shuffling about and looking at me bright-eyed and curious-like, as if they always hung out in boxes in the middle of the Pacific Ocean.

I had “nuthin’ to look at but the cows.”

The stern of this ship is a mess, but a mess by design.  It took me a minute to
learn how it all works (we send out breast lines on the bite, a pain in the butt),
but now I have it pretty much dialed.