Night watch is the best. From one in the morning until somewhere around seven or eight. Of course, it’s not the best when it’s raining, or snowing, not that that’s happening on this trip, snowing that is, or when it’s cold, or when it’s just plain miserable out there. But otherwise it can’t be beaten. Although getting up for it isn’t all that of a bright spot in a day either, getting awoken at five minutes to one out of a deep sleep and pleasant dreams sucks extensively. Nevertheless, when the stars align and the moon is full and the temperature is pleasant and the Caffè Verona, from Starbucks is brewing on the stove, there are few better ways to spend a night on a sailboat.
So what is one doing or thinking on a watch like this? Well, doing, not much at all, apart from keeping the boat on course, but really, we have equipment for that, adjusting the sails, that’s a manual thing, we do that, that’s hands-on, but short of that, nothing, nothing really at all. But thinking, yes, we have hours of that. In my case not amounting to much, but I still put in the effort. One hundred percent. That has got to count for something. Kind of puts me on par with the doing thing.
So I thought I jot down some random doing and thinking a ‘seasoned’ seafarer does on a given night watch. Literally pen and paper next to me. The old fashioned way.
01:00 – 02:00.
Just in my shorts I sit in the cockpit with an insulated mug of coffee in my hands. Gaze up at the stars, there has got to be millions of them. So clear, the milky way shows actually like a white belt of stars stretching from horizon to horizon. Not your stary stary night as observed from village, town or country in a high pollution belt. No sir, this is a vista observed from a place where air pollution doesn’t exist – it probably does, but at least not visibly. The view is absolutely breathtaking. Moon is out, almost full, looking real good, projecting a beam of light on the water, illuminating the gentle waves rolling toward us
I’m lying if I said you couldn’t observe a sky like this from land. Just find a remote place unspoiled by humanity and its wastes. Easier said than done, but I have seen it from the Sahara. Sheena and I would spread the tent’s flysheet on the sand and lay our sleeping bags on top. Falling asleep while counting shooting stars. In the morning we carefully picked up the flysheet as there were bound to be some scorpions underneath. Just little guys attracted by the warmth.
I check our course, due north doing six knots. All is well on board.
All sails up, slowly moving through the ocean. This is a time of contemplation and introspection. I sit there thinking about my life. The things I’m doing, the things I’ve done, but mostly about the things I still would like to do, still like to accomplish. Joy and a feeling of missing out. Joy for what I have, for what I’m doing. The missing out for what I can’t attain, or yeah, missed out on. And it is not that time is running out, of course it is, but it is mostly that I can never be a 25-year-old again, exploring with now vanished idealism, without fear, without limiting thoughts.
02:00 – 03:00
I sit in the cockpit drinking my second coffee of the night. Only doing four knots now. Boat still slicing nicely through the ocean. The waves have diminished to just ripples in the water. Deck is dry, no spray coming over the bow. Very beautiful. I bought a camera to capture these moments. I thought I needed a hobby. Never taken a photo in my life, but here am I with single lens digital camera and three different lenses, including a telephoto. What was I thinking? How am I going to take a picture of this? And a telephoto? That thing can double as a barbell, it’s big and heavy enough. But can I take a picture with it? No! Not on a boat I can. Boats don’t stand still. Brought a tripod too. Seriously. Way to go.
We’re still on course.
I got ‘Guides to the Stars’. Two of them, one for the northern hemisphere and one for the southern. A round plastic disk about ten inches across with all the stars and constellations printed on it. Attached to that another plastic disk, nontransparent, but with a window. Turn that disk to align an arrow with the date and time arrow printed on the bottom disk and ‘voila’ the window shows you exactly what you should be seeing in the sky. Hold it up. ‘Should be seeing’, cause I’m not seeing anything, short of the Southern Cross that is. I give it five minutes of my life and enough of that. Way too many stars in the sky. Can’t see the old forest through the trees here.
Just sit here and enjoy the moment, enjoy the ride.
03:00 – 04:00
In the cockpit. Third coffee. Dan is still sound asleep below, has been for the last two hours, I pretend to be the only one sailing this boat. Just me, the boat, the ocean, the universe. I’m the sole being on this planet. When my time is up and I hope that’s not in the too near a future, this is where the movie stops. A warm night, my arms stretched out on the gunwales, leaning back looking up at the sails, the top of the mast with its tri-light and windex, the little arrow that points to where the wind comes from, the stars beyond and a feeling of peace and contentedness enveloping my mind. For a fleeting moment I am the center of the universe. Then the light goes out. End of the movie. Music. Credits. I can’t see, I can’t hear. I’m in darkness. Wonderful ending.
Of course, not very practical. Who is going to sail the boat from there? It could sail on forever, or worse, crash into something extremely explosive and kill a lot of people. Yeah, that’s likely. Not much of a peaceful ending that way. I’ll have to work on that on future watches.
Still on course. Still slicing through the water at four knots.
04:00 – 07:00
Too much coffee already. Enough of all this. Wonder what Einstein would have thought on a watch like this? I don’t know why I think of that. At birth my daughter had the umbilical cord wrapped around her neck and was deprived of oxygen for far too long a time. Born a flat-liner, she now believes she was meant to be the second coming of Einstein, but because of that she feels she now just has an average mind.
Got my Kindle, reading Mark Twain. All is good in the world.
