Programs Blog

Sunday, 12 April, 2026.

Noon Position: (Lat and Long): 20 degrees 34.6’ N, 065 degrees 58.9’ W

Log (nm): 369.5 nm

Weather / Wind / Sail Plan (from 1300 Watch Change): Sailing under the four lowers and JT, wind ExS F2

Description of location: 150 nautical miles North of Puerto Rico

Hello World, my name is Sam and I write to you as a deckhand aboard the SSV Corwith Cramer. I have been working for SEA on and off for about 8 months, and I sailed as a student way back in ye olden times of 2024. Recently I have been pondering what it is that makes these voyages so special to me, and why I feel such a pull to continue working here. After a long and winding conversation with some other crew a few nights before our trip began, I settled on something: ceremony. Not only is it a great song by the even greater band New Order, but it also seems to be something that we humans crave.

People often think of ceremonies in the context of religion, but it can be something else entirely. This line of thinking is made possible by inventing my own definition for the word, as I was unable to find a dictionary on board. I tend to think of ceremonies in the broader sense as being “time that is intentionally structured to bring about a certain way of thinking or being.” When you think of it this way, you see ceremonies all around you. So much of life is unstructured and chaotic, so people create small ceremonies out of the way they eat dinner, the way they play music, or the way they interact with social groups. Here on the ship, nearly every minute of your day is structured, and meant to bring about a certain headspace. Our afternoon meeting brings us all together to learn, regardless of whether you are on watch or would much rather be sleeping. Our watch schedule turns weeks into 3-day segments, and you begin to view your down time as opportunities for sleep, laundry, or showering. Sunset becomes a sort of social hour, with guitar and ukulele abounding. Watch meetings every third day are set up as intentional discussions between officers and students so that we can all be on the same page regarding our learning and emotional states. For 30 minutes after sunset a bunch of frenzied hooligans run around deck armed with sextants yelling at someone named Mark. Sometimes we have a teatime at 0300 set aside for deep thought and connection. Everywhere you look, you see ceremony in action.

The biggest ceremony on board is without a doubt the 6-hour watch. You become a worker, acting as the eyes and ears of the ship, keeping her sailing straight so that the rest of the ship’s company can sleep. We start and end with a formal turnover so that the oncoming members can know the state of the ship. We have specific dialogues when relieving helm and lookout, and every hour perform checks of the whole ship to make sure nothing is amiss. During watch there are 2 duties that I find to be the most important of ceremonies, ones that are individual actions that can often become meditative. These are lookout and helm. When standing at the helm, you focus inwards, feeling the ship and her movements. Every swell, every kick from the rudder, and every wind shift are felt through the wheel and the compass. It is easy to become lost in your little world of two with just you and Mama Cramer, especially since the mates would prefer that you not make idle chit chat while on the helm.

On lookout, you are meditating outwards. You stand at the very front of the ship and focus on everything going on around you. You take in the clouds, the horizon, the movements of any other vessels, and at night there is rarely anything to look at but the expanse of stars around you. It is here that your mind struggles to comprehend just how large the ocean is and just how small we are. When you turn around you see everything that you have stretched out for 130 feet behind you, and then nothing. If you see it as a prison, you will suffer. If you see it as freedom, you will feel an incredible sense of peace until a wave hits the side just right and soaks you. I find lookout to be the most important time on the ship, since it is the closest thing to alone time you’re able to get. It is also pure, uninterrupted creative thinking time. It becomes a time to commune with the sea and the sky, whatever that means for you. People sing, people compose poetry, and I think of things like this to write about in the blog.

That’s all I have for now until I stand lookout this evening, stay tuned for more Lookout Thoughts from Sam.

Sam Ruemmler, C Watch Deckhand

Annie, Zara, and Sophie play some lovely Irish folk tunes at sunset