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Sep. 11th, 2007 07:25 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
pecunium04 Sept 2007
S 00 53 52
W89 36 41
1300 hours
Underway
Last night was, for many of the guests, gruelling. We were making way from S. Plazas to San Cristobal (Chatham), at about four kts. We were, for much of the trip, running against the wind, in a cross-grained sea. The four of us were in the bow, watching the sun fade, and the sea move; enjoying the sense of being someplace wonderful. There were squadrons of boobies, random puffins, frigate birds, and the like.
But the passage was some six hours, and no one had eaten when we started making way. I took a small spell in the cabin and rested my eyes. It was pleasant, the rhythm was much the same as a galloping horse.
Above, on the weather deck, aft, the breeze wasn’t cold, but it was omnipresent, and the roar of the motor was a trifle overwhelming. I went below to dinner, which was sparsely attended. There were maybe five people at the tables. My companion, from Denmark, was keeping his eyes closed because it kept him from being seasick.
Alan wasn’t eating, Pat and Maia weren’t coming below, because the fumes from the engine were too much. Pat Maia were hungry, but not willing to come below. So a bowl of soup (fresh peas, I think. It didn’t have the texture of dried and it was “greener” in taste) was sent up to them. The main course was potatoes; cooked (I think) in lemon water, and carrots, and stewed tuna. I am not a huge fish fan, so I only ate about half of it. I got the galley to send some carrots up to the deck. I also took the guy from Switzerland, who was in the corner, a bowl of soup.
That was an adventure. Just as I got near him some really confused water went under and the, apparent, weight of the bowl kept changing, the footing kept wobbling and I managed to deliver it to him, with not a drop lost, though, at the very last, I thought I was going to add indignity to his misery.
Alan was asleep between Pat and Maia. I went below and had my desert.
After that I went and lay down on the banquette, where I was in the lee of the crossing wind, and the spray. When my legs became chill, I went below. The fumes were potent, but not so much worse than any other diesel-powered beast I’ve had to ride in the belly of, and I went to sleep. On the chance that my stomach might begin to complain, I just lay on top of the bed, in my clothes.
Somewhere in the neighborhood of midnight Maia came down and we slept until the rattle of Delia setting the tables for breakfast woke me.
Breakfast was well attended and all ate with a will.
S 00 53 52
W89 36 41
1300 hours
Underway
Last night was, for many of the guests, gruelling. We were making way from S. Plazas to San Cristobal (Chatham), at about four kts. We were, for much of the trip, running against the wind, in a cross-grained sea. The four of us were in the bow, watching the sun fade, and the sea move; enjoying the sense of being someplace wonderful. There were squadrons of boobies, random puffins, frigate birds, and the like.
But the passage was some six hours, and no one had eaten when we started making way. I took a small spell in the cabin and rested my eyes. It was pleasant, the rhythm was much the same as a galloping horse.
Above, on the weather deck, aft, the breeze wasn’t cold, but it was omnipresent, and the roar of the motor was a trifle overwhelming. I went below to dinner, which was sparsely attended. There were maybe five people at the tables. My companion, from Denmark, was keeping his eyes closed because it kept him from being seasick.
Alan wasn’t eating, Pat and Maia weren’t coming below, because the fumes from the engine were too much. Pat Maia were hungry, but not willing to come below. So a bowl of soup (fresh peas, I think. It didn’t have the texture of dried and it was “greener” in taste) was sent up to them. The main course was potatoes; cooked (I think) in lemon water, and carrots, and stewed tuna. I am not a huge fish fan, so I only ate about half of it. I got the galley to send some carrots up to the deck. I also took the guy from Switzerland, who was in the corner, a bowl of soup.
That was an adventure. Just as I got near him some really confused water went under and the, apparent, weight of the bowl kept changing, the footing kept wobbling and I managed to deliver it to him, with not a drop lost, though, at the very last, I thought I was going to add indignity to his misery.
Alan was asleep between Pat and Maia. I went below and had my desert.
After that I went and lay down on the banquette, where I was in the lee of the crossing wind, and the spray. When my legs became chill, I went below. The fumes were potent, but not so much worse than any other diesel-powered beast I’ve had to ride in the belly of, and I went to sleep. On the chance that my stomach might begin to complain, I just lay on top of the bed, in my clothes.
Somewhere in the neighborhood of midnight Maia came down and we slept until the rattle of Delia setting the tables for breakfast woke me.
Breakfast was well attended and all ate with a will.
