ROLLER COASTER

We are near Santa Cruz as my watch ends and it is decided we will wait out rough seas churning north of Point Conception. I’m both relieved and disappointed when during the sparsely attended lunch the plan to anchor is announced. I wanted the excitement of a fast night sail, but was not quite sure I would be up for it. We will stay put, rest and wait for calmer water to develop probably near midnight, the end of my next watch. Most everyone is suffering from seasickness, or from side effects of medication to prevent it. Only I, the skipper, first mate, engineer and the cook seem to be none the worse for the unsettled ride. Men not on watch snore in their bunks. I make my way forward to my cubbyhole careful not to invade their berths while reaching for a handhold. Ed is laying in his bunk with his arms folded over his pasty white face.

“Are you okay?” I ask concerned by his waxy appearance.

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MORNING WATCH

As we near Point Conception, the ocean folds into a field of slippery hills, each wave piling an ever greater volume of the sea before us. I have relinquished the helm to John, clipped onto a jackline and lurched forward to cling to, and lean against, a trio of shrouds. They are arranged in a comfortable triangle, seemingly for my support while standing watch. Our impermanence is confirmed by each wave, a child of the vast communal body of water, of the same makeup but unique. They slip under my feet; under the deck; under my mates, sleeping, reading, cooking and perhaps playing Mexican Train; under our tiny dryish world. Each ridge slides under our puny mass.

For this watch, and the last, we have seen an abundance of jellies sliding past with the waves. Translucent orbs, milky with plum splashes, they wash past the hull trailing gelatinous lace. They’re a staple for Mola mola, a fish I would love to see. Read more