Of Joy and Triumph

By Scott Dodgson
The struggle between body and mind was never more apparent after four straight days, no 96 hours of pitching and rolling. When you find a secure position lodged between a bulwark and hull you hang on. For the last few hours the wind clocked from the abaft to beam as the low pressure raced relentlessly past us. The roar of the wind in the rigging was deafening. The rushing sound of the ocean passing over the vessel’s hull was thunderous. These epic sounds were occasionally punctuated by a rogue wave slamming against the hull as if someone were driving telephone poles against it. It was startling. Thirty-five knot winds, twenty foot swells and six foot waves wind waves made every second of those hours a test of stamina. I was very happy to be making good way. In fact my overt cheerfulness led the crew thinking I might be little nuts. Truth be told I love this kind of sailing. These are the hours of joy and triumph. My confidence in my vessel was unshakeable. I am constantly reminded when standing at the helm, the sails full and straining from the wind, the great rise of the vessel as if the sea were lifting it to the heavens, that in this place thousands of miles from land that other mariners had passed from Columbus, to the Jack Aubrey’s, to the modern ships of commerce. I was free and in control of my destiny.


As morning broke the darkness with its dissolute grey, the sea laid down as quickly as it had risen. The crew was relieved. Our foul weather jackets came off as the sun struck through the haze. A reminder of the cathedral we call earth. Flying fish littered the decks. Seagulls passed over head curious to see this moving island. We spotted a couple of merchant vessels on the horizon. Everyone was tired, but assured we had come through the worst. I was not so sure I longed for another low pressure or a really deep high pressure. I wanted wind and plenty of it. I might have made up two days on my schedule; however I could lose them just as easily. I was happy to on the sea.