On To New Brunswick

Sunday morning, May 26^th, 2013. Preparing to leave Lunenburg, Nova Scotia. I appreciate spending the last three days here, but it’s time for the Pride of Baltimore II to leave for Miramichi, New Brunswick, to our first tall ship festival of the cruise. We have four days to go approximately 400+ nautical miles. We have a late muster and I am ready to be on the North Atlantic again.

Captain Trost explains our intended course at the morning muster. Two days sailing on the N. Atlantic, then cut through the Canso Straight into the Gulf of St. Lawrence and the Northumberland Straight, then to Miramichi Bay by Friday afternoon.

Shortly after noon we’re off. We raise most of our sails only to take them down after an hour. The little wind we had has diminished, and it’s coming from the wrong direction – directly on our bow. We start the diesels – the POB2 is obliged to be at the tall ship festival.

“A” Watch’s 4PM watch is mostly un-eventful, the wind has increased to the point that we can raise sail again. Shortly after the watch begins I learn a new lesson in boat protocol:  It’s cold so before our watch begins I pack a small thermos of coffee into my pants pocket. (Truthfully, I don’t need cold weather to pack coffee for the afternoon watch.) I was at the chart table in the aft cabin, where the captain and the first and second mates have their cabins. I was looking at charts with Jill, curious about our course. But on climbing the ladder out of the cabin, my thermos slips from my pocket and clatters down the ladder and onto the cabin sole.

Oops…I had been warned before that we were supposed to be quiet in the aft cabin because the captain is often sleeping there in the afternoon. All of the watch leaders have been instructed to wake the captain anytime day or night when there is a significant change of conditions – any substantial change of wind direction or speed, raising or lowering sail, unexpected boat traffic, anything out of the ordinary. I was a little skeptical of the need for all of this waking of the captain, but Jill tells me a boat truism – “That captain sleeps best who knows he’ll be awakened through the night.” So I’m embarrassed when a sleepy-looking Captain Trost comes out of his cabin and tells Jill to make sure everything is secured because something is clunking around up here. Luckily flogging has been outlawed by most navies.

After our watch, it’s a late dinner and then into my bunk. Reading, some drawing (i.e. doodling), writing in my journal and then lights out. By this time, the wind has picked up and decent swells, kicked up by the wind, have arrived on the stern of the POB2.

Soon the boat is rocking lengthwise, bow to stern. And I am treated to another north Atlantic phenomenon – being rocked to sleep, like that proverbial baby. I usually have difficulty sleeping, often taking Ambien, a prescription sleep medicine. But not tonight. The sound of the wind. The rocking of the boat. I am out. It’s like I’m on a very slow rollercoaster, with each plunge to the bottom pressing me deeper and deeper into unconsciousness.