Set an open course
for the virgin sea...
Finally underway, in the Strait of Juan de Fuca
We finally set out this morning at 8am - we could just barely feel the movement of the ship at first, until it was certain that we were underway. I went upstairs to the F-Deck, and found that we were sailing through smooth water just about a mile out of port. Eventually, the ship took to a slight rocking motion, and as we got into the straits between Vancouver Island and the Olympic peninsula we could feel the occasional swell. At this point, I was glad to have my patch; as the roller-coaster sensations increased, I was sure that motion sickness would have set in otherwise.
At lunchtime, things were still fine - I ate heartily, as if my stomach was telling me to stock up. Cdr Johnson informed me that there were 20 - 26 foot seas waiting for us in the Pacific. He surmised that the seas would get rougher as we approached, then come across our starboard side as we made the turn to the south. This would change the motion from roller-coaster to sloshing back and forth, left to right. Neither sounded appealing, but the latter is supposed to be harder on one's equilibrium.
Nevertheless, I felt fine for a while. By 2 o'clock, however, things started to change. The roller-coaster had added a cork-screw motion - you felt yourself leaning to the right, forward, to the left, and back. I won't go into many details, as I'm struggling even now as I write this post, but by 3 pm I had visited the ship's rail twice, and the ship's Doctor once. He gave me a new patch up closer to my ear (I had apparently affixed mine to the wrong location), and a few prescription-strength Dramamine tablets. I then abandoned Mike Hodge and went to bed! Once flat on the mattress, the sensation was more akin to riding a bus over a hilly road, and eventually to being rocked to sleep.
Approaching the Pacific Ocean... and rougher seas
The next thing I knew, it was 6 pm, and I stumbled down to the MCS office. Mike had finished his I.T. presentation to, and told me that several of the educators either missed the briefing or needed trips to the window in order to keep it together. I apologized for falling out on him - he only laughed at me and hoped I would start feeling better - otherwise, this will be one long miserable trip. Amen!
I stayed upright for a while, but any attempt to look at a computer screen was futile. It wasn't long before I headed back to my bunk. A trip to the galley for dinner was cut short as soon as the smell of food wafted up two flights of stairs. I didn't see Mike again until midnight when he came back to the stateroom and hit the sack.
I'm very disappointed in myself! I came into this with confidence that with medication and willpower, I could survive just fine. But I suppose if that were possible, we wouldn't have read stories for centuries of sailors becoming violently ill on the high seas.
Anyway, at 4:20am I finally rolled out of the bunk and got dressed. Not an easy proposition in these heavy seas! I understand now that "Sea Legs" are more than withstanding motion without sickness; it also means you can get dressed, brush your teeth and comb your hair without ending up ass-over-teakettle on the far side of the stateroom!
The motion is definitely more side-to-side now; according to the WinFrog screen, we're about 50 miles off the coast, nearing the mouth of the Columbia River (separating Washington State from Oregon). The ship is veering a bit to the west, perhaps to avoid the tumultuous seas surrounding the Columbia estuaries - reportedly the most common site of shipwrecks in North America.
I'll try to post a map when I can...
.
Finally underway, in the Strait of Juan de Fuca
We finally set out this morning at 8am - we could just barely feel the movement of the ship at first, until it was certain that we were underway. I went upstairs to the F-Deck, and found that we were sailing through smooth water just about a mile out of port. Eventually, the ship took to a slight rocking motion, and as we got into the straits between Vancouver Island and the Olympic peninsula we could feel the occasional swell. At this point, I was glad to have my patch; as the roller-coaster sensations increased, I was sure that motion sickness would have set in otherwise.
At lunchtime, things were still fine - I ate heartily, as if my stomach was telling me to stock up. Cdr Johnson informed me that there were 20 - 26 foot seas waiting for us in the Pacific. He surmised that the seas would get rougher as we approached, then come across our starboard side as we made the turn to the south. This would change the motion from roller-coaster to sloshing back and forth, left to right. Neither sounded appealing, but the latter is supposed to be harder on one's equilibrium.
Nevertheless, I felt fine for a while. By 2 o'clock, however, things started to change. The roller-coaster had added a cork-screw motion - you felt yourself leaning to the right, forward, to the left, and back. I won't go into many details, as I'm struggling even now as I write this post, but by 3 pm I had visited the ship's rail twice, and the ship's Doctor once. He gave me a new patch up closer to my ear (I had apparently affixed mine to the wrong location), and a few prescription-strength Dramamine tablets. I then abandoned Mike Hodge and went to bed! Once flat on the mattress, the sensation was more akin to riding a bus over a hilly road, and eventually to being rocked to sleep.
Approaching the Pacific Ocean... and rougher seas
The next thing I knew, it was 6 pm, and I stumbled down to the MCS office. Mike had finished his I.T. presentation to, and told me that several of the educators either missed the briefing or needed trips to the window in order to keep it together. I apologized for falling out on him - he only laughed at me and hoped I would start feeling better - otherwise, this will be one long miserable trip. Amen!
I stayed upright for a while, but any attempt to look at a computer screen was futile. It wasn't long before I headed back to my bunk. A trip to the galley for dinner was cut short as soon as the smell of food wafted up two flights of stairs. I didn't see Mike again until midnight when he came back to the stateroom and hit the sack.
I'm very disappointed in myself! I came into this with confidence that with medication and willpower, I could survive just fine. But I suppose if that were possible, we wouldn't have read stories for centuries of sailors becoming violently ill on the high seas.
Anyway, at 4:20am I finally rolled out of the bunk and got dressed. Not an easy proposition in these heavy seas! I understand now that "Sea Legs" are more than withstanding motion without sickness; it also means you can get dressed, brush your teeth and comb your hair without ending up ass-over-teakettle on the far side of the stateroom!
The motion is definitely more side-to-side now; according to the WinFrog screen, we're about 50 miles off the coast, nearing the mouth of the Columbia River (separating Washington State from Oregon). The ship is veering a bit to the west, perhaps to avoid the tumultuous seas surrounding the Columbia estuaries - reportedly the most common site of shipwrecks in North America.
I'll try to post a map when I can...
.
posted by Balin at 4:30 AM
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