Dramamine: the Segue Way Drug

By noon the first day the sea was really rolling and sea sickness was a definite. I tried to stifle it as I was the rookie and had something to prove; I didn’t want to be the first one down. But as evening came and the winds picked up we started hitting 10 to 12 foot seas, my green hue gave me away and I took a dose of Dramamine. As luck would have it, Dillon, our deckhand, was actually the first one to feed the fish, but I was soon to follow…

At sunset the crew began watchkeeping in four hour shifts and between shifts most people slept or read. As the crew awoke for each shift they helped themselves to sandwiches, some pasta that was made by a crew member sympathetic to my seasickness, and copious amounts of junk food; “chockies” as they called them – Cadbury bars, mini Hershey bars, mini Almond Joys, and chocolate covered raisins

By 1am the first night we hit the Gulf Stream which brought warmer temperatures but 20 foot seas and gale force winds. It was only a matter of time before the entire crew was seasick, and the worst was yet to come… We took a beating all night long and the entire next day; thrashed about like a rubber ducky in a washing machine, on spin cycle; pounded senseless by 20 foot waves crashing over our bow as we sailed against the Gulf Stream. So much for the Thanksgiving dinner I had planned. Pretzels and ginger-ale were the order of the day…

The winds picked up as night rolled in and we were hammered as the waves grew to 30 feet. The crew had installed new rigging only days before our departure and in the rush to depart our trusty captain never performed a test sail or had any of the equipment checked. The cotter pins were never put in place to secure the shrouds, the piece of equipment that holds the mast to the deck, and the two main shrouds began to come lose. In rough seas and bad weather, the decky and the engineer in raingear and harnesses, tethered themselves to the deck and went out for repairs.

I was half-asleep on the couch in the pilot house with Chris and Sheila, it was 1am our second night out, Tom was on watch. As we lurched from side to side, with the explosion of waves crashing over our bow, it felt as if we were on a German U-Boat coming under enemy fire, not a mega-yacht heading for the ultra-swank island of St. Barth. We were all so sick from the constant smashing about that we disregarded the cannons, bombs and gunfire going off outside and slept right through the ruckus, but we all sprang to attention at the sound of one tremendous explosion that sounded of a direct hit on our starboard side. We opened the doors of the pilot house to find that the 50 foot; 1000 lb. boom had lost its main sheet and was swinging wildly off of the mast, crashing into the boat each time we were hit by a wave. The boom swung across the lines of the stay sail and ripped a huge mechanical wench clean off of the deck. The lose sail was adding to the already erratic lurching of the boat and it was imperative that we get the boom under control as it was threatening to crash into us and take out the pilot house completely.

Aubrey, Dillon, Tom and Chris rushed to put on their harnesses and get outside. As they tried to grab the lines of the boom, Tom filleted his hand wide open and fractured his thumb. As the guys tried to gain control of the boom, Sheila and I stayed in the pilot house keeping an eye on the radar and looking out for any crew falling overboard. Against its own force, the gigantic boom bent clean in half, like a jackknife. Sheila and I jumped as Aubrey hollered, “GET AWAY FROM THE GLASS!”.

Gripped by fear and completely nauseous I darted down the steps to the main salon wondering what kind of nightmare I had just committed myself to; this certainly was not the adventure I had signed on for and if this was how things were beginning, than I was afraid of what else might be in store. Just then, the boom came crashing through the pilot house sending the crew running and glass everywhere. Waves sloshed through the broken window as the crew lassoed the boom and secured it to the broken window.

After this all unfolded, there was no amount of Dramamine that could help my seasickness. I ran to the head, clung to the toilet for dear life, emptied the nonexistent contents of my stomach, and made my peace with God. I imagined abandoning ship and a heroic rescue at sea by the Coast Guard. I wondered to myself if I’d be able to grab my laptop before I was helicoptered to safety. I questioned how I could be so stupid as to give up my business in New York and leave my friends and family behind to put my life at risk, and I thought about all those damn nice bottles of wine that would go to waste if the boat sunk. And for the umpteenth time in seven years, I thought to myself, “good god, why did I ever decide to become a chef?”. My temperature soared and I broke into an unbelievable sweat. Paralyzed by shock and seasickness, unable to move and not knowing what else to do, I curled up on the bathroom floor fully accepting that I just might die. Sleep came on like a drug-induced coma…

The Boom in the Side of the Boat

The captain/owner sent a distress signal (also known as a pan-pan) into the Bermudan authorities still a solid two days away but at least they knew we were in distress, had our coordinates and would be following us on radar expecting our arrival by late Saturday, or sending help… My hopes for a dramatic helicopter rescue were dashed, but at least my laptop and personal stash of crew wine were safe, relatively speaking.

I awoke the next morning groggy and disoriented. We were still being pummeled by 30 foot waves and water sloshed in through broken windows in the pilot house. I hesitated moving from the safety of the bathroom floor but the owner/captain requested that I make sandwiches for the crew. I gingerly changed my clothes and made my way to the galley. Garbage strewn about from a tipped trash can, coffee grinds everywhere from the coffee maker which had ripped out of the wall, the clanging of lose jars in the cupboards and the sound of water rushing past the port holes made for a sensorial overload nearly bringing me to my knees. The smell of food was thoroughly revolting; ham and cheese was almost too much to bear, condiments were out of the question…

Ham and Cheese Sandwiches:

Yield: 6 Sandwiches

Prep Time: 2 Hours

Ingredients:

12 slices bread
6 slices ham
6 slices cheese

1. Take bread, ham and cheese from refrigerator.
2. Lie down on floor for 20 minutes and wait for nausea to pass.
3. Remove bread from bag and place on the counter.
4. Cut cheese and open ham.
5. Lie down on floor for 20 minutes and wait for nausea to pass.
6. Add ham and cheese and put on top bread.
7. Repeat steps 2 through 7.

All in all, it took about an hour and a half to make five ham and cheese sandwiches, which would never be eaten…

I crawled into my bunk, but was tossed out two times and rained on by a downpour of falling cookbooks, eventually deciding that the floor was as good a place as any to sleep. I slept for nearly 24 hours, as did almost everyone else…

Bermuda Coming into Sight

The crew was beat, our nerves frazzled and spirits sagging and when we thought we could take it no more, the seas calmed. We looked out through a tangle of rigging and bent steel and Bermuda come into view. A very, very welcome site for us all…

Setting Sail!

Dario thought it would be funny to wake us all at 7am this morning with the sound of the emergency horn on the boat. We flew out of our beds and ran towards the pilots deck as he stood there laughing. The thing was, we were all a bit hung-over from too much wine last night and he knew it…

We lifted the anchor at 8:45 this morning and after weeks and weeks of waiting and anticipation we’ve finally set sail. I watch as New York fades away into the distance and we head out to sea. New Jersey is the last bit of land that remains but in a short time that too will disappear beneath the horizon. The head sail (also known as a jib) is hoisted and floats like a dandelion in the wind. It’s absolutely majestic to watch and I’ve found a cozy little place at the bow to nap; protected from the wind and where the sun graciously offers up its warmth. Even with the winter chill in the air, I slipped into a peaceful meditation to the sound of the ocean.

We’re sharing space right now with a few giant freighters staged or heading towards New York Harbor. It’s magnificent to watch them pass by.

We should hit the Gulf Stream and warmer weather in about a day…

You can’t imagine the expanse of the ocean until you’re sailing on a boat in the middle of it, nothing around but water and knowing you won’t see land again for at least seven days.

We expect to arrive in St. Barth’s on December 5th or 6th, hopefully sooner…

120 foot boat is big. Giant, in fact, but not as big as a lot of people probably think. Or perhaps it just doesn’t feel as big as you might think. Several people commented to me that we wouldn’t even feel the waves because the boat was so big. I can assure them that is not the case. Three or four foot swells create a nice roll – and being below deck, like in the galley, can be felt quite strongly.

Now we are at sea, the boat is beginning to toss a bit and I’m not sure if I’m getting sea sick or if it’s my hang-over working one over on me. My stomach is feeling a bit nasty and I haven’t been able to eat much today. Let’s hope it’s a hangover…

At this moment, I wish that I had planned my meals a little better and not let the crew eat my MRE’s but they begged and said they couldn’t bare the idea of lamb curry sitting in the fridge and not eating it... I’m a little nervous about wobbling around the kitchen… But I’ve got pasta and marinara sauce made and I think I’m going to sauté up some shrimp to go with that. Keep it simple…

Time to nap.