My Favorite Night Sailing!

"Day: 9

Date: August 12 2016

Time: seriously early

Thing: Night Watch

That wondrous feeling of singing sea shanties on the open ocean lasted until the singing was over. Then as the crew went to work out the night watch schedule, the ocean began to roll noticeably more. Nighttime was definitely upon us, and people began to head below to prepare for night running (ie, motor sailing through the night, rather than anchoring).

More people were getting seasick at this point. The crew members told us a few times, “Just get down into your bunks, you’ll be fine.” So it became a matter of seeing how quickly you could get ready and get into your bunk, and if you would, in fact, be fine there. I waited on deck for a while, but knew that I had to try to get some sleep, since I would be on duty from 1:20 am – 2:40 am. So below I went! (And let me tell you, if you’ve never tried to sleep in the bow of a boat on the rolling ocean, it is quite an experience. Two words: air time.)

But the real fun began at 1:20: I took over the wheel. I steered a 111’ wooden schooner under motor and sails through the swells of the north Pacific at 1:30 in the morning. The moon had just gone down and it was a clear night, stars speckling the sky like you wouldn’t believe, and the Pacific Swift cleaving a trail of bioluminescence through the waves. This was the first highlight of the night. (And yes, my watch officer and I were both singing snippets of “Wave Over Wave” during that time.)

We were nearing Triangle Island while I was on watch, so we then had to take down the sails. At that point there were three sails up (fore staysail, foresail, trysail) and five of us on deck (skipper, first mate, two of my watch mates, and myself). It was hard work! Skipper and I had to corral the trysail as it was hauled down, but the sail kept wanting to catch the wind, and it was a fight. We did eventually get it down, though, and then moved onto the foresail.

And then the ship’s alarm went off.

I looked around to the nearest crew member (another watch officer had joined us at that point), but she didn’t seem too concerned. I thought, “It’s a good thing I’m already up on deck and not in bed.” And I just kept on pulling the sail. Then five or six of the guys appeared on deck, having heard the alarm, which ended up being great because they helped us tie down the sail (the foresail is one of the biggest sails on the ship). The alarm had stopped by then, and as it turns out, it was the bilge alarm. By taking down the sails we had upset the balance of the ship, so the bilge water (nasty water that gathers in the very bottom of the ship) sloshed and triggered the bilge alarm. In the end, it was all okay.

Then the guys went back down below, and one of the watch officers and I went to tie down the fore staysail. We had hauled it down earlier, but it wasn’t tied very well and it was flapping obnoxiously. So there I was, at the bow of the boat, straddling the bowsprit, holding down the sail and untangling the line while the watch officer tied it more securely. And I looked up at the unbelievable array of stars overhead, with the pitching of the ship beneath me, feeling integral to getting the sails down, and I had one of those rare moments where you really appreciate exactly what’s going on, and how wonderful it is. Taking down the sails was the second highlight of the night. 

And then we arrived at the lee of Triangle Island, about 3:00 am. Our least calm anchorage yet, but quite nice after the open ocean. We lowered the anchor until it was just sitting beneath the surface as we manoeuvered into the right spot, and what a sight that was, to see the bioluminescence trailing off the anchor. And then again from the anchor chain as we lowered the anchor. And then—a lightning bolt of green slashed through the water: a sea lion. And there it was, the third highlight of my night. Bioluminescence is cool."

~Nicole E.