(No, this is not Finnally in a storm!)
Some of you may have read my post No Sea Legs describing my brief and inglorious foray into sailing. Here’s a snippet – “ … We were going sailing again. I was assured the seas would be calm. Gorgeous sailing weather they said. Wrong !!! The waves this time WERE gigantic…. Eventually I staggered down to our cabin. But not before passing the galley sink and filling it. I heard someone call out to him to come and clean up after his wife….. I lay spreadeagled on the bunk bed….. The strategically placed bucket on the cabin floor was regularly emptied by He Who Lied To Me About the State of The Sea. He comforted me, saying the sea can be unpredictable. Really ?! I was in hell !!!…… the yacht was buffeted one gigantic wave after another. I was grateful I didn’t know that at the time. Although worry about drowning and an early death may have provided a welcome distraction…..”
That trip was an eventful one for many of us. And yes, many of us did suffer the malady of the technicolour yawn. But not all.
My sister in-law is incredible. I swear she has a cast iron stomach. That fateful trip as I lay spreadeagled in the cocooned embrace of my cabin she was calmly sitting IN the galley.
Now let me digress a bit here. As far as I am concerned the worst possible place to be is deep in the bowels of the boat. That’s like descending into Hades. Especially when it is stormy. You need to feel the pinprick of the icicles on your face as galeforce winds buffet the boat around like a helpless cork tossed by monster waves. It takes your mind off the churning in your stomach. And, if you are lucky enough to see it, you can watch the horizon. NOT the bowsprit wildly plunging into the depths of the ocean and briefly emerging before another dive like some mad out of control roller coaster or bucking bronco. I do not recommend that. It does not help. (Some, it seems, enjoy the thrill of this and other equally dangerous, life-threatening pursuits. Personally I seriously question the state of their mental health…)
I have been accused of over-exaggerating. My answer? All is in the eye of the beholder. However, in this case there is also irrefutable, objective evidence to support my view. The white water DID wash over the deck. And the portholes DID dip under the waves. Substantially.
Back to my sister-in-law. She numbers amongst those lucky few who do not suffer from puking at sea. So on this trip, she sat calmly in the galley, reading the newspaper and sipping on a nice hot cup of coffee. Every now and then she would emerge on deck to see how things were and perhaps have a puff or two on a cigarette. She even – and this just blows my mind – cooked in the galley! Never, ever have I done this. Even on a trip where I remain puke-less. I only venture deep into the bowels of the boat to use the head and only when I am truly desperate.
I need to digress again briefly. Head is a nautical term for toilet. Don’t ask me why they call it that. I can only assume that there are many other poor souls like me who spend time with their head in it – puking. That also is not something I would recommend. Heads are notorious for breaking down, overflowing, spilling nasty stuff and smells…
Unlike the phenomenal Cody of the Four Sea Legs fame , my ablutions control is sadly lacking. I drink only enough to stave off the worst of dehydration. As for eating – why would I add fuel to the already heaving stomach?!
Preparing and installing the masts
Two Beautiful Ladies of the Sea
© Raili Tanska