Slip Sliding Away

It was bound to happen sooner or later. I just hoped it would’ve been later – much later. And at a more convenient time too. But it wasn’t. It never is. That’s just the nature of a disaster.

The disaster began in the wee-hours of the morning. I was having weird dreams – we were back at the boatyard in Seattle. The boat was chained to the dock and we couldn’t leave - a nightmare, actually. A dog purred at my feet. Why was the dog purring? That’s my alarm clock! Shit, I’m late!

5:20 am. I’m usually in the galley by 5am. 20 minutes can make all the difference in the world on some days– and today was one of those days. I flew out of bed, took a quick shower and was in uniform and in the galley by 5:26. We were lifting anchor at 6am sharp. The captain had said the night before that the ride to B.C. would be smooth, I’d have no problem cooking but at 6:04 as I shoved a batch of Rosemary-Pumpkin muffins into the oven and began to prepare a smoked salmon scramble – the call came down that there might be some rough weather ahead. I was a little frazzled from oversleeping, my brain wasn’t fully awake, and it was pissing rain outside. Like a Pedro Almodovar movie, bad news always comes on a rainy day.

In the restaurant trade, it’s called being “in the weeds”, when you spend all day just trying to catch up. That’s how my day was starting out, I was in the weeds – and everything always goes wrong when you’re in the weeds… I rushed into the walk-in and in my harried state, I completely forgot about the 3-quarts of clam chowder I’d put in a tall bain-marie covered with plastic wrap and set on the floor the night before to cool down. As I made my way out of the walk-in, loaded down with eggs, onions and salmon – “ping”, I felt me food make contact with the cold steel of the bain and then heard “glug glug glug” as the contents dumped out onto the floor. NOOOOOO! I leapt the remaining two feet to the door, dropped my load of ingredients on the counter, raced to the sink and grabbed three rolls of paper towels and a garbage bin. Sopping up the soggy, clammy, starchy mess all I could think was, “I gotta get breakfast out, I can’t do this right now, I gotta get breakfast out…”. I left the towels to absorb the mess and hoped that I soaked up enough that it wouldn’t run the full length of the walk-in and jumped back behind the stove to continue making breakfast.

Within a half-hour, the seas grew rough. I looked out the galley window; massive waves towered over the yacht. My stomach climbed into my throat as the yacht climbed up the waves and my body compressed as we slid down the other side. The captain had said it would be smoother ride than yesterday – could he be more wrong? 35 knots of wind and messy seas were making breakfast a harrowing output.

I was so excited to make pumpkin-rosemary-polenta muffins for breakfast. I thought it’d be perfect with my smoked salmon eggs, but what was I thinking – to make something so strong under way? Even the slightest hint of seasickness is greatly exacerbated by strong aromas or flavors. So, of course, just as my stomach was climbing a 14-foot wave, I tasted one small bite of a muffin – the rosemary, the sweet of the pumpkin, the spices and sugar was a complete sensory overload, like a violent assault on my olfactory system. My stomach was in shambles. But I had a duty – to make breakfast for 16 people though I was certain that no one would eat it. The waves were growing – and I know I wasn’t the only one feeling ill…

With breakfast setup, I ducked into my cabin to wretch, take some drugs and try to nap away my painful morning – and prayed that nobody would open in the walk-in…

When the seas finally died and the drugs kicked in, I returned to the galley to find breakfast, of course, untouched. Hesitantly, I opened the walk-in. Despite my efforts to keep the spill from spreading, it had leached under almost all 18, black rubber floor panels and spread the entire 6-foot length of the walk-in. I have milk crates stacked 3-high, loaded with milk, juice, fruits and veggies and those would all have to come out, along with all the matting – and all while we were underway, and all while trying to keep my little disaster as low-key as possible so that nobody would notice… One-by-one, I moved out the crates, pulled up the mats and stuck them in a sink full of soapy water, grabbed a mop and squeegee and set to cleaning…

With the mess cleaned up and lunch put out, the seas died down and that afternoon we spotted a large pod of orca’s off of the bow of the boat jumping fully out of the water. It was so beautiful! As we pulled into Victoria Harbor in British Columbia, the bosses said they’d take us all out to dinner – and save me from being in the weeds the remainder of the day…