Rainbow Warrior web editor Tracy trying out a lobster-like survival suit for an abandon ship safety drill. All this talk of abandon ship did not make the rough seas any easier.
Before I even came on board I had heard about tricks that have
been played on land lubbers encountering seasickness for the first
time. One story involved telling visitors that if they wore a raw
potato on a string around their necks it would ease the
seasickness. Some people believed them and did it, one man who
wasn't even sea sick yet wore his potato as a preventative
measure.
It was on this ship, and I believe with much of the same crew
that the potato gag happened. Still some people on board claim that
it works, but I'm unconvinced. When I came on board I was
determined not to fall for any silly tricks. I have a strong
stomach, I figured I was going to take it standing up, keep busy,
not give into the grumbling of my belly and tough this thing
out.
Then we left the English Channel, and as the waves grew so did
the rumbling in my gut. It's been two days, I've slept little and
the only places on board I feel comfortable are in my bunk in the
lower level accommodations or on the bridge. But I have not been
alone, to the contrary. It seems to me there is really only one
person on board who has not been in some way incapacitated by the
rough sea and he also had trouble sleeping last night.
Forget about trying to watch a movie or catch up on some work on
the computer, that is what sent me scurrying to the toilet to
re-examine my lunch. In fact the mess, where everybody eats, is
probably the worst place on the ship. It is at the back, or stern,
of the ship where the motion has the most effect on me. I can last
about long enough to eat a meal and then I have to head for the
bridge and a bit of fresh air to make sure I keep it.
But the bridge is a good place to be. You can see what is going
on rather than just feel it and that does help. It is also the only
place to go for some human interaction since most other people are
also hiding out in their bunks. And it is actually a beautiful
sight.
The waves crash over the bow creating a wall of white water and
foam. The waves crash into each other peaking in a spray of water
at eye level along side the ship. It's somewhat hypnotic. Sitting
at the back of the bridge on a high bench, as the ship rolls and
pitches at one moment all I can see through the bridge windows is
sea, the next minute all I see is sky. It would be fantastic if not
for the queasy feeling in my stomach.
Last night was particularly bad, even by the other crew's
standards. I went to bed early hoping I could sleep but was woken
around midnight as I was being flung around my bunk, while other
things were being flung around my room. I got up several times as I
heard crashes and bangs and investigated what was moving then tried
to secure everything.
I wasn't so successful at securing myself in my bunk. I tried to
sleep, and I did find one position that prevented me from being
thrown about, but it wasn't so comfortable: one knee at a 90 degree
angle with my knee against the side board, my back against the wall
and my leg stretched out with my foot braced against the wall at
the end of my bed.
I wouldn't even say that the rolling about was as bad as the
noise.
I am used to the noise in my apartment which I wouldn't say is
quiet, but they are familiar and consistent noises. But on the ship
last night there were unpredictable, loud bumps and bangs
throughout the night. The crashing of the waves are the obvious
ones, but then what was that dull thud, and what about that hollow
thump. I couldn't even hear the regular drone of the engines or
generator underneath the noise of the storm.
At about 3:30am I gave up, I headed for higher ground. I wasn't
the only one who couldn't sleep, several crew had just been up
tying things down, cleaning up messes created by the violent
rolling. Some plants flew right out of their pots. How do you lash
down soil?
I found a few more things that needed cleaning up and securing,
grabbed myself some toast (still hungry since I never had the
chance to digest lunch) and headed for the bridge.
The bridge is quite a different scene at night, all dark except
for the lights of the radar and navigation instruments. All I could
see of the storm around us was the white crest of the waves as they
fell on top of us.
The few of us on the bridge shared tricks for sleeping in such
bad weather. Most people were putting their mattresses on the floor
perpendicular to their bunks since the rolling of the ship was the
problem. Serkan and Colin, the two tallest guys on board slept on
the tiny benches in their cabins. But it was Erik's suggestion that
got me a few hours of sleep last night.
By putting some clothes underneath one side of my mattress, the
bed was on an angle and I was held up against the wall of my bunk
without the strange contortions and I managed to get to sleep
eventually.
The situation wasn't much better this morning, but the wind has
changed and being out on deck helping to raise the sails has
improved my mood and the butterflies in my stomach. I overheard
someone say this is going to last for a few days - oh please no! I
hope that we find a ship with supplies for the war soon, and I hope
it is in a quiet, calm harbour so we can stop them with the
determination in our hearts, not the forward motion of our
stomachs.
You don't have to go to sea to help stop the war, you can
take action showing your opposition to the war by writing to
members of the UN Security Council and ask them to say no to
war.
Tracy
A web editor who now has no problem being called a land
lubber.