Deck Ten

In the middle of the night on deck 10 I can feel the steady lateral sway of this gigantic ocean vessel.  It is day something of, or rather night something of this two week Pacific crossing. We are four or five or six days since touching land and we sway.

In the spring equinox crossing through the Korean Strait it was bump bump bump bang, constant and unrelenting, until gradually, while counting the rhythm of the box tough breakers against the ferry that knows that water so well, I lulled myself into sleep. We reached port 2.5 hours late on that 22 hour crossing.

Here, on this open sea, we seem to be leisurely on schedule. There is no sense of urgency. We add an hour every night, well most every night, well, watches forward, so maybe we loose an hour.  Then we cross an imaginary line and we loose a day, or I guess we gain a day, well anyway, we repeat a day.  A Saturday.  May the Fourth be with you again, and again.

We know we are nearing the Canadian coast because we are pointed easterly, but there is fog and waves. It does not feel close yet. The temperature is moderating, above five maybe, but we are still two, or maybe three days away from land fall where we intend to scrunch through the tiny Strait of Juan de Fuca.  There is an another imaginary line running down the middle of it, so I think we have to stay on the north side.

This ship has music that you walk through at night.  This big deck-wide space high up, above the logic of nautical centre of gravity has flutey piano and pipes in esoteric, or mediation styles that change sometimes to wails of humanity or drums of deep unknown rhythms and equally as loud in the mix is the sound of crashing waves.  Relentless, to the beach, to the rocks, over the decks.  It all sounds the same.  It is not a quiet mix, but with the sway, it allows for sleep if that is what you seek.

Lights are dimmed but still reflect in the glass, back to you, barring view of the night white caps and swells ten decks below until you cup your hands around your eyes and press your face to the glass.  Yep.  They are still there.  Steady swell and lots of white.  The lower decks illuminate the ocean since we have no moon nor stars.  I wonder what is below deck one.  What keeps this bobbing aquatic megalith from raking starboard or port beyond this gentle sway?  Is it faith in the skipper?  The crew? The radar?

I fear the small wooden craft with no radar that ventures too close to the wake of this monstrosity.

But I can sleep.  We are lit, like a floating pyre on the Ganges, and no passing craft could miss us for nautical multi miles in any direction.  I hate day fog, but in night fog, yes, I can sleep. 

~~n Post40 Day 67/75