Programs Blog

Author: Charlotte Sakmar Aberg, Binghamton University

Ship’s Log

13 December 2023
Current Position: 36 03.746 ‘S  x 178 39.919 ‘E
Ship’s Heading and Speed: Currently hove to, moving 3.2 knots sideways
Weather: 17 Celsius, windy and cloudy

Before leaving Woods Hole, Captain Allison instructed us to draw what we
imagined a journey to look like. This prompt took on many forms in our group
and is something that I have found myself thinking back to as our journey in
New Zealand has progressed.

The past two days have introduced us to seas that we have not seen before.
The winds picked up, gusting 48 knots, and the Beaufort force grew to seven
and eight. The waves were reaching ten to fourteen feet, splashing over even
on the high side, and lightning started to appear in the clouds. These
conditions have shown us the true power of the ocean, and have been fun to
navigate on deck and below, as we crash into walls and stumble around doing
simple tasks. Something that has been so special about our time here is that
despite the hard routines no day is the same. Two days ago, we were in very
different conditions, but we continue to persevere on watch and work
together through whatever comes our way.

A theme that I have heard a lot in discussion onboard is how time goes by on
a ship. The days feel long, but the weeks are short; time is slow, yet so
fast. My watch often discusses this, and I find myself having conversations
about how we might view our experiences after we leave. What will stick with
us and what will disappear? How will we remember and perceive our
experience? These are all questions that have made my time onboard special,
and because of it I try to take in what I can while I can. With this, for
myself and I am sure many others onboard, the little things really count.
They get you through a hard watch and motivate you to keep moving forward.
These are the experiences that I want to highlight, and ones that are often
overlooked on land when we try to recount all that we have done.

Rocky, the previous mate for A Watch, read us an excerpt from “Tuning the
Rig” by Harvey Oxenhorn. We were about halfway through the first leg of our
voyage, and just getting into the groove of things. The passage encompassed
what I think a lot of us had been feeling and still are feeling as we
experience these new weather conditions, “what sticks in my mind most of
all, I said, was the longing for something – anything – to just stay put.
For the deck to stop moving, for the food to sit still in the plate and the
plate to sit still on the table, for the compass to stop swinging every time
I took the wheel.” Being out here means constant movement and it has been
far from easy, but at the same time creates an unforgettable environment.

Sailing means that we avoid the distracting hum of a motor. We are able to
hear the fizzing of bubbles in the water, the woosh of wind against the
sails, and the splashing of waves against the hull. Most of the time we move
smoothly enough through the water that dolphins come up close to explore.
Sailing means that night and day are sometimes flipped, and that your wake
ups are no longer from the ringing of an alarm but the soft voice of your
shipmate arriving to tell you the weather and time. It means that waking up
for the day at 1 am is normal, drinking coffee at the helm at 3 am is
expected, and counting zooplankton in the lab at 4 am half asleep is part of
your daily routine. It shows you the true darkness of night and the beauty
of the stars when there are no lights for surrounding miles. Sailing means
that eerie feeling standing up by the head rig alone on look out when the
waves are big enough to splash on deck, and the sky is so dark you can’t see
in front of you. At first this darkness struck me as empty, but now it has
shown me that life in the dark is even more vibrant. It is peaceful out
here, especially when the milky way comes into view and shooting stars fly
across the sky, when the bioluminescence sparkles on the side of the boat
and within our nets, or when the orange moon slowly rises from the horizon
followed by the sunrise. Sailing means hard work, and most of all a
community who look out for each other. It turns having a simple tea break
into a deep conversation, and inspires peoples in so many ways, that is why
our time here is so valuable.

We have all experienced these things together, and yet all have different
stories to tell, like our original drawings in Woods Hole. That is my
favorite part about this journey. So, I encourage you to bring up these
topics with your loved ones when they are back onshore so that you too can
get a glimpse of their stories and experiences, especially now as we
navigate through this gale.

Charlotte Sakmar Aberg,
Binghamton University
A Watch

Shout outs:
Jules, your letters have been such a joy to read on this journey, they have
kept me positive and reminded me what amazing people I have to come back
home to. Good luck with finals and rounding up this semester!!
Thank you, Mom and Dad, for your letters as well, they have been the
highlight of a lot of my days and often the little thing that gets me
through the hard ones. I look forward to opening the last one on my way
home!
And finally, safe travels to NYC Will and Louise, can’t wait to see you
both!
I love and miss you all so much and am excited to retell these stories in
person! Glad Lucia!