Programs Blog

Wednesday, 29 April, 2026.

Noon Position: (Lat and Long): 32 degrees 22.4’ N, 064 degrees 40.6’ W

Log (nm): 1682 nm

Weather / Wind / Sail Plan (from 1300 Watch Change): Wind WxS F4

Description of location: Anchored off St. George’s, Bermuda

  Today is my ¼ birthday. It has been 3 months since I turned 29 (all of the pro crew are 29), and I have spent the entirety of that time aboard Cramer. This momentous occasion has had me reflecting a lot on time in general, and specifically on the experiences I have had with SEA. I find myself dwelling on the past, fretting about my future, and trying to live in the present. Every day I think about the people and places I’ve met through SEA, and if/when I’ll get to see them again. I think about the people that are here now, and how between programs it seems that as much as things may change, many stay the same.

The time I have spent working with this organization has always seemed to exist in some kind of weird flux, from joining programs last minute to battlefield promotions I find myself drifting in a way not too dissimilar to our latest creature of interest, the Physalia (better known to many as Portuguese man o’ wars), hoping to be caught by the dip net of employment. Although they find themselves at the mercy of the wind and waves, when confined to a bucket it becomes clear how much control they have of their own movement. By flexing different parts of their gas bladder, they can contort this way and that, almost climbing their way out of the bucket and righting themselves when capsized. I feel somehow connected to these strange blobs of colonial siphonophores. In the Big World on shore I often find myself feeling swept along by the powerful current of life and society at large. It becomes too much to handle, and even while doomscrolling I find ways to stress myself out about the state of the world and the state of my life and speaking of my life what am I supposed to do with that thing for the next 60 odd years and I really should be looking at job applications and licensing and wait a minute I should have FUN in my 20s but my friends are all too far away to do anything with and…you get the picture. Being at sea feels like being put in that little bucket in the lab sink. The conditions are simpler. I can think. I can breathe. I can right myself. I can finally feel like I’m doing something, like the little contortions of that gas float can make a difference.

It is feelings like this that made a profound impact on me when I was a student, and one that I hope all the students here can feel too. There are quite a few things I hope I can impart on this great group, from the unique bond that only shipmates share to the deep spiritual connection to the ocean to the passion for scientific discovery and curiosity, I try my best to cram it all in. I take inspiration from the many wonderful shipmates I have had in the past, and it feels as though every other phrase or word of advice I give was passed on from someone else through me. I think about the way Captain Allison taught me how to be a better leader and how to deal with transitions (amongst the million other things), how Sarah taught me that even data without any correlation is still valuable, how Shel has shown me better living through heart jamming, how Marija taught me to tar the stays, about the bandana I received as a student and the identical one I gave to Keya, and all the ins and outs of science deployments from marine techs past and present. My sailing experience has been woven together by so many different threads, and it has formed the beginnings of a beautiful tapestry.

Often I find myself thinking about what it was like to be a student. As I watch this group learn and grow it flashes in my mind as clear as day. The rush of calling a gybe. The utter confusion of trying to use the vector master even though you use it every day. The pure awe of stargazing at sea. The giddiness and excitement of setting a new sail for the first time. The fear and panic of being JWO. Every single emotion is so unique and yet so universal, and I feel so lucky to be a part of that experience for these students. I think of the crew I had as a student and I feel woefully unprepared to fill shoes that big. They seemed like such monumental figures to me at the time, and now I have been in the same position as some of them. Did they feel this pressure too? Do they know how important they were in shaping my experience? Can I really do this? I don’t know, but I have to try. 99% of what I do here is driven by my desire to be as impactful and inspiring as those crew members were for me.

There is one memory that sticks out the most to me. A day in the South Pacific that was sunny and clear with a fresh sailing breeze, much needed relief after a long stint of cold and rain. On the helm, I turned to my mate and said “days like this make me want to do this forever.” Sensing a critical moment, she responded with something more profound than the casual laugh and agreement I expected: “Remember that feeling and hold onto it. Don’t ever stop until you find something that makes you feel like that every day.” I certainly remember that feeling, and it is the reason I came back to SEA. I’m still searching for what exactly it is, but it is something I hope the students feel too. I hope that when they are adrift on the waves and feeling helpless, they remember their time in the bucket. I hope they remember how powerful it felt to adjust their floats and right themselves, and how it felt to discover what they are truly capable of. And above all I hope that they want to pass that feeling on too.

Sam Ruemmler, C Watch Deckhand

Quin searching for our future on the horizon

Tentacles of a Physalia, which lives in the present by drifting aimlessly