(Monday, April 4th, 2016)
I just remembered that tonight is the NCAA Men’s Finals for basketball. I saw none of it this year. I missed the Superbowl as well. I did not miss either one. That’s a lesson for me – a calibration of interest for sports watching on TV. Interesting if convenient, but only that.
That’s not what I wanted to write about. And the title might lead you to believe that I am going to write about how to turn the other cheek, and other pacifist techniques. Nope.
I’m going to write about daily habits while crossing the Pacific. I fear that this might not be that interesting, and I apologize if I bore you to tears. I wanted to write it down as a jog for myself at some future time.
Across the Pacific, we had about 3+ weeks or more of basically going more eastward every day. So I fell into a pattern. Here it is.
Wake up, take a shower if I am not planning to exercise that day, otherwise just wash my face to wake up. If I am up early, read or write a little bit while waiting for breakfast time to arrive. Maybe write in my journal. Pen and paper writing, that is – no computers yet.
Breakfast at 8am. Usually a couple eggs, scrambled, and toast. On Sundays, we get pancakes (the style would be called “crepes” in the US). I could have sausage with the eggs but I cut that out a few weeks ago. The cook makes absolutely perfect scrambled eggs, every day. I’m impressed.
In the morning I carry around a coffee thermos, refilling it once in a while. It is important (at least for me) to have a “leak-proof” top!
After breakfast, up to the bridge to chat with the helmsman, look at our position and speed, and look at the weather forecast. From 10 minutes to an hour, depending on mood.
After visiting the bridge, exercise every other day. Spin on the bike or jump rope, then some non-aerobic stuff, then some stretches. Then a shower. That usually takes me to 11 or 11:30am. Then I read until noon.
If a non-exercise day, sit in front of the computer in front of a novel. Most times that converts to some writing. Sometimes a lot of writing. Sometimes, just thinking. I have achieved that ability (with the help of Gail Sher’s wonderful book “One Continuous Mistake – Four Noble Truths for Writers”) to not judge myself as long as I commit to the sitting and the starting.
Lunch at noon. They serve their big meal at lunch. Salad, soup, main course which is usually meat, potatoes, and vegetable. That’s too much for me. I have the soup and salad and skip the rest, unless the soup is tripe. That triggers me to have the main course. I tried the tripe twice (say that fast). That was fair enough.
Afternoon. If I have been writing all morning, I read for an hour then get back to the writing. If I had exercised in the morning, I write (or sit in front of a novel and think).
Somewhere in the afternoon I take a break and either go up on the pilot deck, or out to the afterdeck if it is too windy or cold for the pilot deck, or to the bridge if no outside trip is any fun. I stay for a half-hour or so, look at radar, at the charts, that sort of thing, if on the bridge. If outside, I just enjoy being out in the wind and looking at water all around. It is an interesting feeling. And if you combine that with knowing a bit about the depth (usually around 5000 meters), you really feel separate from almost everything.
I come back to my cabin and write, either on the novel or a blog post or something else. I try to avoid reading because I save that for after dinner.
Before dinner I back up the computer, especially if I feel good about what I’ve written, then shut it off.
Dinner is at 5:45 or thereabouts. Salad is available, but no soup. The main course is usually lighter than lunch’s main course, often fish. I vary what I have for dinner, based on what seems good. There aren’t alternatives, but I can tell them not to make something for me. And with all the Filipinos on the crew, rice is always an option if I am not thrilled by what they offer for potatoes. I have tried all the fish offered, and certainly have preferences, but I’ve not had any that I absolutely could not eat. We have had some great flounder on this trip – congrats to the cook on a good bulk buy and good flounder cooking.
After dinner I go up on deck or to the bridge until sunset. Sunset varies as to time, because we have been shifting through time zones, moving forward every other or every third day.
Then I read. Maybe write in my journal. I have a glass of box wine (rarely two glasses), and one piece of chocolate (often two pieces unless I’ve run out, which is often, given that I am blowing a fixed chocolate budget when I choose to have two).
Thence to bed.
Kind of boring when I write it down, but part of this, remember, was to free up time to write. That part has been successful. The pattern feels pretty good to me.
This pattern collapses totally when we are in port. So far, there is no pattern at port. Each port visit has been different.
I have extremely limited satellite access. Sometimes I check email. Sometimes I check a couple of web sites. Not much. It is not a significant part of my day. Minutes at most.
I brought more than 100 books along, on my Kindle. There are also an equal number of books on board. Many are the usual thrillers, but there are also a few Pulitzer Prize winners, and some by writers such as Cormac McCarthy, so I am getting a balance.
Sometimes I play music all day long, and sometimes not at all.
The Captain has many TV shows, movies, documentaries as mpegs, but up to now I haven’t been that interested, and I have been avoiding a too-passive habit. Reading is not 100% passive, and I think that’s good for me.
Rough seas cause adjustments, depending on severity. In the extreme cases, all you can do is look out the porthole and react to rolls and pounding. At those times the computer is best left turned off, and placed so that it won’t fall from a height onto the floor. Less rough seas, and reading becomes possible. This is the usual case, that I can at least read. It is still difficult to type on the computer, and difficult to focus deeply on something. Then, there are moderate seas, and typing on the computer, and thinking about what I’m typing, is not difficult. I am just rocking back and forth while doing so (my desk chair faces starboard). Then, with smooth seas, or at port, it is more like a hotel room, with engine or crane noise in the background.
Sometimes, what I try to do in any particular day depends on how much I slept the night before. This is totally predictable by the magnitude of the rolls, and the severity of the pounding. At a certain point, sleep just doesn’t happen. At least not in my experience. And I notice that on rough nights the crew hasn’t slept well either, so I don’t think it is my lack of experience in this case.
I have been on a ship for a couple months now, give or take. I am much more comfortable walking around with fairly big rolls happening. This is different than how I was for the first few days. I’ll label it “semi sea legs”. But at some acute roll angles you have to work at it to stay standing, and that’s the same for everybody. I learned right away that dry bare feet on industrial style carpet have no sticking power. You get to glide across the room, which is quite fun until you reach the end of the room. It’s great confirmation of gravity acting on a body resting on an inclined plane, and also of one of those basic laws of physics, but in this case the “body in motion” that is tending to “stay in motion” is, well, my body. Bam! Anything for science.