Yes! We pack up and get ready to
go, we have a last hot meal while the boat is on dock, we don our warm
foul-weather gear, and then as the sun starts to fall, we head out across the
bay, into the strait, and towards the ocean. There are dozens of BIG ships in
this narrow stretch of water some going full steam, some at anchor, others just
drifting waiting, perhaps, for their turn to be refuelled, there fast ferries
going back and forth, other sail boats heading in different directions, fishing
craft going in loops, and even small motor boats just hanging about. The strait
separates Africa from Europe, the Mediterranean Sea from the Atlantic Ocean and
has been a busy waterway for millennia. Tonight is no exception. I am at the
wheel, steering the boat, weaving it between the huge ships, keeping an eye out
for smaller boats. Nick and HS are up in the cock pit with me. HS is teaching
us how to recognize which ships are headed in which direction by using the AIS,
the radar, and by watching their lights. Our primary goal, while at sea, is not
to crash into another boat.
My shifts on this first leg will be
4 to 8 in the evening and 4 to 8 in the morning. For those eight hours of the
day it will be my responsibility to “keep watch”. This means various things,
keeping watch of all boats that are anywhere near us and ensuring that we don’t
get too close to them and/or changing course if necessary to avoid collisions, keeping
watch on the wind speed and direction and making sure the sails are correctly
set, keeping watch on our path and continuously checking that we are following
our plotted route, keeping watch on the weather and being prepared to make
changes as necessary, if, for example a squall were to be approaching, keeping
watch of the lines in the boat, making sure they don’t fall into the water or
get tangled or anything, keeping watch of our boat speed and ensuring we are
making steady progress but not overpowering the boat… It is all pretty simple
and straight forward but, nonetheless, seems at first a big responsibility.
Nick wakes me just before 4 am for
my first night shift alone. We are through the strait and out in the open
ocean. It is VERY dark out and spitting cold rain. There are about 8 different
ships visible, some going the same direction as us, others going opposite
direction, still others going perpendicular crossing across our path. Nick gets
me to figure out which way each one is going and which ones might possibly be
on a collision course before leaving. He also points out a small sailboat, too small
to be picked up on the AIS or radar, that is close by but hard to see what with
the waves and rain. Then he crawls into his bunk to go to sleep and I am left
to panic on my own. The auto-pilot is on, so I steer by pressing buttons on the
console instead of turning the wheel, which means that most of what I do is
check and re-check our situation and worry about everything. What is the wind
speed, is it going up, will it go up, what do I do if it does? How high are the
waves, are they going to get bigger? Which ships, heading into the Med, or
crossing my path, or on the same route but going faster and overtaking us,
might crash into us, and how do I make sure that doesn’t happen, and how close
is too close, and when should I take evasive action, and when should I panic?
Which direction is the wind coming from and will it change and what do I do if
it does? Are there any boats I can see that are not visible on AIS or radar?
Are we going fast enough? What could go wrong? Wow it’s dark out! Is my shift
over yet? No, another 3 hours and 50 minutes left. Am I going to vomit? Yes.
Lots. And again. I worry, throw up, worry some more and then repeat the
pattern. Each 15 minutes I stand out in the rain peering at all 360 degrees of
the horizon to see if there are any new boats or bouys that I hadn’t yet
identified and that I might need to be aware of. I panic, then worry, then
panic some more. I know that this is bad for my health but it is positively
spooky doing your first solo night shift. HS gets up to check on me. He looks
over the situation, nods, and heads off back to bed. ‘No, don’t leave me,’ I
want to say. ‘please stay and hold my hand.’
But I can’t get the words out. And I am alone with The Boat and the dark
night sky once again. Waves are pretty choppy here, each few seconds the boat
is lifted up about 2 meters and then plunges down. We pitch from front to back
and roll from side to side and everything seems to be banging and clanking and
I don’t know what sounds I ought to be listening for. Yes, positively spooky.
Eventually the sky lightens from
black to dark grey and it is morning. The winds pick up and bit as does the
rain. HS comes out to do his shift and gratefully I enter the hold and put on
my pj’s and crawl into my bunk taking my ‘sickypoo pot’ with me incase I
haven’t finished vomiting yet. It’s hard to sleep with all the strange noises
and the wild bucking motion of the boat but I curl up under my covers
determined to catch a few winks. It will be 4 o’clock again soon.
