Wednesday 10/9/09

There are, in my experience, various aspects of balance one has to learn when spending any extended period of time on an ocean going vessel. There are several different types of motion one is subjected to that depend very much on sea conditions and direction of travel relative to waves, not to mention what type and design of boat on which one finds themselves. I am on a 42 ft Westsail sailboat, a cutter if you will, do to the configuration of our sails.  We have a deep draft and no center board, and by modern standards of fiberglass thickness and hull design, this is a heavy sailboat. I find that riding out the buck of the sea bears similarity to my experiences of riding a horse. It is all about centering one's weight and sensing the point of counterbalance in motion. There are 3 main types of sea conditions that I can think to describe, all of which demand slight differences in balance and weight distribution. There is plowing into a headwind, where one takes the waves straight on the bow, usually resulting in a fairly violent up and down bucking. One stands with feet spread wide, a slight bend in the knee, lower spine slightly compressed with diaphragm taught(not flexed), shoulders loose, and arms relaxed and ready. The toes and the heels play the biggest part in feeling what the boat is doing and sending the message to the rest of the body. One roles from heel to toe as the bow drops down from the top of the wave. The brunt of the force of each shuttering blow is then absorbed with the knees, the lower back and diaphragm take the rest, and the upper body for the most part stays immobile except for stabilization against a plane.The point of balance here are the ankles when standing free, or the lower back when one has a counter or surface on which to lean. These are the hinging 'swivels'  that compensate for the inclination of each plunge. The second type of energy transference occurs when one is abeam of the waves. This results in the infamous rocking and rolling that has claimed the dinners of so many. This type of motion is not as violent as the first, but just as tricky and in my opinion more difficult in the respect of executing the normal daily tasks(using the head, washing dishes, moving about, reading and writing, etc.)The aforementioned stance stays the same, and with each roll, one must shift the weight of the body from one side to the other. This starts once again where foot is anchored to floor, the knee on one side begins to absorb and then transfer weight to the other through the roll. It helps to have flexible hips on this-in a sense it is similar to skiing in that the upper body once again stays as motionless as possible-it should only be a stabilization factor, not the equalization factor-that is the job of the lower body(knees, hips, and lower back). The last type of sea condition is the following sea, where waves overtake the ship from stern to bow. This is generally the smoothest and easiest of the three to master equilibrium, and the point of balance is a combination of the first two. As the wave rolls in from behind and overtakes the ship it picks up the stern, the boat surfs for a moment, and is then gently(in a relative sort of way) dropped as the crest of the wave moves through length of the ship, ending in a roll as the bow comes down off the backside of the wave into what is now the trough or what I call the belly(in between crests). This is my favorite sea condition, and it is often exhilarating due to the sense of speed and energy transference from the wave. There are of course many different combinations of sea conditions depending on one's heading relative to the swell direction, in which case it comes down to the agility, intuition, and balance of the individual on how successful they are at riding the sea. The life in constant motion can be a challenge at times and there are many little tricks that must be learned through experience. After a week or so things start becoming second nature-for instance getting up out of a seated position by timing it with the top of a roll, or using the momentum of a roll to get from one side of the boat to the other.  Often times a sailboat stays at a constant 20 to 45 degree slant under heavy sail, in which case it is best to pick out a comfortable spot and ride it out.  I usually nestle down into my bunk, which has a "lee cloth" strung up on one side to keep me from rolling out. Other difficult things include preparation and consumption of food and drink. We have a gimble, which is a small counter on hinges with a lead weight on the bottom that keeps the surface level to gravitational pull. This keeps food and drink from spilling all over the place and is an indispensable innovation for a bluewater sailboat. The stove has adjustable guard rails on all sides, but cooking still proves difficult as the stove unlike the gimble, does not have a hinge. Making tea has become a bit of a ritual before each watch to wake myself up. I have learned that one fills the kettle with the least amount of water possible to save on propane consumption and quicken the process. Also, when pouring the boiling water into the cup(or any liquid for this matter) it is best to hold the cup in hand. This holds true for eating as well. Often times it is an illusionary experience when the plate appears to be at such an angle that food has no hope of staying on, where in reality it is the plate that is level and the person holding it who is at the angle. Drinking in a swell can be a maddening process. I keep a water bottle in my bunk, but i rarely drink out of it any more because i have spilled so much. It is a matter of timing with the waves and taking small sips, but even then you are bound to spill. Now i just drink over the sink. The toilet is at the bow, which like anything has its advantages and disadvantages. One can wedge in and stay on the seat without getting tossed about, yet the majority of motion occurs at the front of the boat. This can prove to be as dizzying as any carnival ride, and if one is not endowed with a hearty stomach at least the toilet is readily available. Life takes some getting used to aboard the Fiona, for one it has no place for squeamish stomachs. Most of what we eat is canned food and instant soup, and I have had to set my germaphobic(what i dub "germaconscious) tendencies aside. For example, on the first day Eric had me scrub some tea stains in the cockpit with fiberglass cleaner and a scrubby. I finished the job and much to my surprise he put the scrubby in the sink and asked me to do the dishes. I mentioned we should probably use a new scrubby as who knows what toxic chemicals were in that fiberglass cleaner. He shrugged and said, "too many people are so squeamish about these things, its a wonder they have an immune system at all anymore-thats what its there for". I didn't want to make a big deal out of it so i kept my mouth shut. The next few days during the gale, I saw him sponging brackish water off the cabin floor with that same dish sponge. Not to mention this same abused rag was used to wipe out the sink every time Tom vomited into it. The sink is positioned right above the head of my bunk, and listening to someone dryheave right above you the whole night through is one of the most unpleasant things I have ever endured-not to mention i get splashed by cold water every time the seawater faucet is turned on. We use cold seawater to do the dishes, as he doesn't like us heating up the water under guise of propane conservation. The dish towels are absolutely filthy as if they haven't been changed in years, and one wonders what the point of even washing the dishes is! Every piece of silverware is rusted like they've been recovered out of some shipwreck, and until i cleaned it, the surface under the dish-rack as well as the rack itself was moldy. I cleaned out the vertical refrigerator, at the bottom of which was sloshing about rotten slime. I took apart the stove surface and wiped it free of the crusted remnants of countless old dinners. I guess it will be an easy transition to the dirtbag climber lifestyle,  which i think might even be a step up in cleanliness. Despite her less then cleanly condition, the interior of the Fiona is beautiful. All her surfaces(counter, table top, cabinets)are crafted from a rich mahogany, and her floor is a dark teik of equal hue, with inlaid slats of a pale ash between each floor boards. The dark blue of the curtains and cushions compliment the warm feel of auburn wood. I would like to have similar theme within my future boat when the day comes. There are two berths in the main cabin, and a state room at the back of the boat, which provides a little more privacy and space for both crew and captain. The dining table also folds down into a bed if need be, but it is only practical in port and is not designed for traveling conditions. A diesel heater keeps us warm, and well designed as the exhaust is undetectable and all conducted outside. As aforementioned, we have a propane stove with four burners and an oven(which Eric does not like to use again under guise of propane conservation). There are plenty of windows which provide ample light within the cabin space. As far as electronics go, there is a cd player, computer, radar, gps, and single side band radio-the bare minimum for modern ocean going vessels. Eric only uses charts for navigation, which is now considered by most to be an antiquated practice. I like that though, and I watch every time he plots his waypoints in an effort to learn. Most people are completely dependent on their electronics, and are completely screwed if for some reason they quit working.