Programs Blog

Tuesday, 3 March 2026

Lat and Long: 15° 34.303’N x 061° 27.746’W

Ship heading: 164°

Ship speed: 4.80kts

Log: 590.4 nm

Weather observations: Slight showers, 27°Cels ius, wind coming from SE at 11kts

Anchored off Portsmouth.

Hello to my friends and family, and to the loved ones of my shipmates,

            Today is our first day of being anchored after our voyage to Dominica! I am struggling to find the correct words to describe what it is like being aboard a ship to those who are not in my shoes. However, my best attempt is as follows:

            I have yet to be in an environment that is so captivating, silly, awe-inspiring, demanding, and, at the same time, one that consistently reminds you that everything we do is important and purposeful. Whether you are on watch or off watch, there is the expectation that majority of the chores that need to get done daily fall onto the shoulders of each crewmember as much as the next. However, along with that responsibility, there is also a sense of peace and security, because I know my shipmates prioritize my wellbeing and safety as much as I do theirs. It wasn’t until our second time leaving port that I recognized everyone slowly realizing the roles they had to step into for the good of the ship, their shipmates, and themselves.

            In 2023, I was aboard this same vessel for a 2-week, SEA Expedition program off the coast of Massachusetts. That first time I stepped foot onto the SSV Corwith Cramer, I got what sailors refer to as: “The Bug.” Something about leaving all communications with the outside world behind, carrying aboard the junkiest clothing you own, and embarking on a terrifying, thrilling, peaceful, and purposeful mission out on the open ocean is what pulled me back to SEA.

            At this point in the journey, I could write a book about all of the amazing things we have seen, accomplished, or witnessed. However, blog space is limited, so I will share a story from the last few weeks: Leaving Frederiksted, we somehow managed to pull up our anchor and sail out of there “off the hook,” meaning we used only the wind in our sails and the rudder beneath the soles, no motor power. As the land behind us slowly got further and further away, nearly everyone was sitting on the quarter deck, up on the “labtop” or “dogtop,” or filled in along the deck boxes, watching in awe. B watch was on watch so curiously, Andrew, Amanda, and I headed up towards the bow to get a better look. Sonia, clipped onto the rigging for the forstays’l, was standing lookout. The three of us stood aft of her and watched the rollercoaster of a bow launch far above the horizon then plummet down to the ocean below.

            FOMO (Fear Of Missing Out) hit Andrew and me like a truck, watching Sonia, so we speedily raced down to the quarterdeck to ask the Watch Officer if we could lay on the headrig. After gaining approval from Mike, we grabbed our harnesses and shouted, “LAYING ON THE HEADRIG,” clipping into the safety cable, swinging our legs over the side of the ship, and stepping onto the waxy, black netting below. Each step felt like those carnival funhouse plates that slid in opposite directions except this time, we had a raging sea below our feet rather than cold metal. Andrew and I could not contain our excitement. We slowly made our way as far out on the headrig as we could, whooping and hollering along the way, possibly alarming the rest of the ships company.

            Sonia and Amanda joined us from the bow in harmony as we all shouted “UUUUUHHHHHH!!” when the 7-8ft waves carried us up, and “AHHHHHH!!” as the Cramer slammed us down onto the sea, sending salty sprays our way.

            Being out there was a feeling I can barely put into words. It is one of those moments in life where all you can do is reminisce and hope that one day you will get to experience something like that again. Something that pulls you so far from your own internal dialogue, only the sloshing of ocean waves and joy-filled exclaims of your friends, experiencing something we very well may never get to experience again, echoing in your mind.

            My beloved friends and family, I wish I could write to you daily and keep you updated on life at sea, however, being in an environment like this calls for all of your attention unapologetically. Who am I to deny this beautiful ship, these beautiful people, and that big blue ocean (that I don’t think I will ever get tired of), everything I have to offer.

            I would say, as it pains me to say goodbye, that not only will you hear from me again shortly, but in saying goodbye, I get to go sail some more. It’s with peace and love that I wish you all the best and I’ll be back in the real world in no time. Probably 😉

Peace and Love,

Hads

Hadley Sarah Trautwein, A-Watch, University of California, Santa Cruz, Hometown: Philadelphia

Shout outs: To all of my people! I appreciate you taking the time to read this and check up on my journey and I am so grateful for you all. Mom and Dad, I fear you may have lost your daughter to tall ships for good this time. When I get home, I’m ditching the never-ending list of potential career paths I could’ve committed to and taking off on my next voyage (tbd).  Love you both to the moon and back. Wes, Aido, I hope school is going well and I miss and love you guys. To all of my extended family, I am missing all of you and I can’t wait to see you and catch up when I get back. I love and miss you. To all of my friends in California, Philly, Rhode Island, every other corner of the globe (the world is flat believe it or not, I have tall ship proof), I am reminded of you all daily and I’m so grateful for your diverse and unique contributions to my life.