Open Seas!

Ahoy from the Seamans and co!

Today we left Hawai'i for open seas! As I think about what is to come, I appreciate what is already behind us: six islands, two ripping channels, and almost six full days of incessant rocking. The constant pitching and rolling have required the biggest adjustment from me; seasickness has been a challenge. I am so thankful for my shipmates who offer me saltines and ginger chews as I clip in to the leeward rail.

This morning I went up on the quarter deck to relieve the previous anchor watch and spotted a large pod of dolphins off the port beam. They made a big circle in front of the rail, coming close enough to allow me to hear their breath. Sights like these are becoming normal on the Seamans, but they don't cease to capture my attention. A few nights ago I saw the biggest, brightest shooting star I have ever seen, against the background of a dark, sparkling sky.

This morning as I watched the dolphins, I noticed that they all took their last breath before diving at the same time, despite being spread far from one another. It made me wonder at how they achieve that synchrony. Is it a visual, auditory, or olfactory signal? Is it intuition, memory, or something else? How can my shipmates and I achieve the synchrony of a pod to move together physically and emotionally to send the ship under us towards Palmyra? Noticing small things like this are the reason why I enrolled in Stanford at Sea. There is so much you can learn by just paying attention.

Yesterday was a rest day before our big trek down south. It was the most fun I've had in a long time. We spent the day singing, playing instruments on deck, and snorkeling in beautiful blue water. People who know me know that snorkeling is my all-time favorite activity. It felt so good to get into the water. It reminded me of my time snerggling with my mermaid best friend. I wish she could've been there free diving with me.  While I love the open ocean, I cannot wait for Palmyra to get back in the water.

All is well here on the Seamans, missing my friends dearly, but enjoying the moments of this incredible adventure.

-Courtney Anderson

The First Few Days

The first few days at sea have been nothing short of humbling. Crossing the channels of the Hawaiian Islands, our ship battled winds that muffled our ears and wave that tossed us about our beds. Saltines and ginger chews were a staple on deck, and watching our (delicious) soup slosh back and forth on gimbaled tables was, to say the least, a challenge. I'm in awe of the mariners who sail these seas today, as well as those who did so hundreds of years before me.

Today was the first day I began to feel a bit more like myself. Now entirely off the seasickness pills, my head is clearer than ever. I'm so grateful for my watch (B Watch Best Watch!), who navigated these waters with me. It's wild to see how much I've learned and how much autonomy I've gained in mere days- among these, my comfort easing the sheets, my ability to man the helm, and most importantly, my proficiency with ship speak (aye!).

Yet despite the difficulties with finding a routine, I have to admit that few things rival the beautiful moments I've had: watching spinner dolphins leap into the air, admiring rosy sunsets over golden waters, and singing with my watch group under star-loaded skies. It's funny how such moments have also changed my relationship to the natural world-from the stars that now serve more as navigation points than beautiful anomalies, to the ocean which is not just a place to play, but also an entity to be respected, if not a little feared. 

Looking forth, I can't wait for the things to come. I'm incredibly grateful for the people that made this all happen- among them, my parents who supported every endeavor (Hi Mom and Dad!) and the faculty who admitted me to this program in the first place. So many hands had to work to make this program happen, and I recognize how I would not be here without them and their labor.

Also rather tangentially, I'm happy to report that my Teva tan lines are strengthening. They're somewhat of a novelty on this ship, and I'm intrigued how intense they might get. Only time will tell.

Until then, goodbye all!

Kelly Dunn

Diamond Head

I’ve never known much of home

Nor how to define it…
For now the ocean is my mother.

She rocks me to sleep nightly:
Keeping me safe;
holding me ever fast to vigilance…

Teaching me that the wind does not always whisper.

That sometimes He galavants on & away to some far-distanced land…

 No omen left for us here—

        In this water desert
        On this surfaced sea
        Of moving mountaintop

In midst, this.
This is no longer harbor. No longer anchor.
And not quite home—

Only a feel somewhat foreign & all too familiar.
Where upon Hawai’I is all but a shadow amongst clouds.

 NOW

The presents are passed/past
Yet still full of gift.

-Matt Mettias

The First Hour -- 21°11.29’N, 157°50.85’W

Winds on deck are calm. Waves in harbor are light. We are ready, ready to head south.

            The Robert C. Seamans makes its way past enormous container ships, industrial fishing boats, and coast guard vessels. Tropical flora lines the harbor shores. Layers of clouds pile on each other in the surrounding atmosphere. Rays of the Sun glisten off the emerald surface.

            A grip on the ship is not needed while in harbor waters. But as we steadily transition to the open waters off Oahu, standing up straight for even ten seconds becomes almost impossible. The change of motions comes as a big shock to my balance. How difficult it is to walk up and down the deck cannot really be anticipated. When moving towards the bow, the rocking and rolling feels more and more amplified.

            My right hand reaches up to grip the bow railing. My body lay diagonally forward against the steel. My head rises up to catch the wild unobstructed winds coming from the port bow. My glasses are squished up against my face.  Any moisture on my upper body immediately evaporates dry. Any woes and worries the blow away completely. Only my unstoppable zeal for more wind remains.

            Such raw forces of nature surge upon the ship, dwarfing my nimble body in all degrees and magnitudes. Never before has my mortality becomes so apparent. The rushing and crashing waters can take my life in any instant. If not, the rush of time would do it instead. For existence to devoid permanence, the joy of wind is now to be.

            To stay between the winds and waves is to stay between being and nothingness.

-Drive Rojrachsombat

 

 

The Voyage Begins!

 

The dream of sailing aboard the Robert C. Seamans came alive today in Honolulu Hawaii for the Stanford@SEA class of 2022. Now in our 20th year, 29 Stanford participants including 26 students, 2 postdocs and Dr. Block joined 11 shipmates from Sea Education Association including Captain Greg and Chief Scientist Jan Witting to sail together out of Honolulu Hawaii for a 35 day voyage to Palmyra Atoll and Kingman Reef. 

The team left at about noon with Stanford undergraduate Lilah at the helm doing a beautiful job of steering the vessel out of the channel into the emerald blue seas and waves outside of the shores of Honolulu.  The ship sailed into a brisk 25 knot breeze that enabled the new sailors to experience the excitement and the power of being at sea.  A bait ball with terns and a Tiger Shark greeted the bow watchers and excitement at the siting of the shark spread thru the vessel. 

Safety drills were practiced and new sea legs were being found as the team headed to anchorage outside of Waikiki for one more calm night prior to heading to Maui and the calm Kona coast.  A fun day with new shipmates has been a grand opening to a 5 week voyage.

From the Ship

Barbara Block

W-49 or  Westward Alum

Prothro Professor of Marine Science

Stanford University