The many days we've spent on the open ocean are coming to a temporary halt. We are nearing land (!) as indicated by the change of currents, birds, and smells we've encountered today. Who knew you could smell land before you can see it? I definitely didn't, and have yet to confirm if I've been gifted with this special sailor sense. If I am, this will certainly not be the first time I've experienced something entirely new in our time at sea. While at first unfamiliar, I'm now calmed by the unrelenting motion in our groundings, hum of fans, and whisper of wind that make the ship feel like a home. I've been looking forward to reaching Palmyra since the day we left the harbor, but as we approach our first land destination I've felt nostalgically reflective of our days spent surrounded by nothing but the boundless sea.
The ocean has been a moody host. Some days, she greets us with a gentle current that lulls us into a hazy sleep down below deck. These nights leave the Seamans without a trace, disappearing in the wind we've learned to harness. Other times, the comfort we find in the ocean's soothing rhythms is abruptly disrupted by her seething hisses and the wind's bottomless howls. These nights tend to linger, found in a sleepy smile shared by my watch mates in the lab or an all-too-frequent missing number in our role call.
The sea's omnipresence has dictated all we've done, observed, and felt in the past two weeks. As I bob twenty feet in the air on the bow under the moonlight, the extent of our powerlessness begins to set in. The thought scares me: are we as in control as our meticulous boat checks, regimented schedules, and precise sail handlings have made me feel? I distract myself by picking my favorite stars from the sky, mindlessly latching on to a handful of speckles from above. Approaching land brings some eagerly awaited comfortability - our microcosm has known nothing but the unfamiliar since the day we departed.
Soon, we will be greeted by the welcoming sight of trees, dirt, bugs, and everything else I've vowed to no longer take for granted. I anticipate my relationship with this ship will change when we reach land - the leathery charthouse maps, sticky handrails (it turns out no amount of Envirox will ever be enough), and resilient sails will no longer be our lifelines. But for now, this is our world. And until the smell of land reaches my eager nose, I will relish in what surprises the ocean decides to bring us next.
-Mia Bennett
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