Sleeping In Shifts

It took about three days for the crew to get used to each other and to the daily routine. We had been doing the night watches in pairs, so this meant about two shifts per night. …And that our catnaps were only about 3 hours long max.

Since everyone was groggy with the seasickness and the with lethargy that seems to settle at the beginning of any longish voyage, the 3 hour shift sleeping continued (though less formally) throughout the day too.

But by the third day the mild nausea had worn off – even with the anti-seasickness pills, we had all been feeling a bit queasy. One moment saltines were the only thing I wanted and then like a veil lifting, suddenly it was all gone.

Thereafter I set up a one crew per watch system. And with so many crew on the boat, this meant only one watch per night. Delight!

At first the Can Opener and I would automatically wake up after our three hour snooze, alert and ready to pull on the foul weather gear, tie on our life jackets and climb up to the helm. 

Then we’d realise that we weren’t due on shift until the end of six hours, stretch luxuriously, roll over and snooze on.

Funny though. Both ways were fine.

We never felt really tired at any point at all. 

We slept when we were tired and woke when we were refreshed. 

The excitement and contentment on being on a boat on the water makes life just purrfect, no matter how you slice it.

–Captain Cat

(transcribed by the Can Opener)

The Night Watch

Last view of Spain as it slips away…

The first night watch was upon us. 

I had arranged the night’s schedule in pairs tonight: two on each watch for company, team bonding, and as the crew were adjusting to a new routine. The Can Opener and I were on first shift.

I brought out my tome of preparatory notes, settled on the First Mate’s lap under my evening cape and began to expound upon proper watch procedure, duties and etiquette. The First Mate was riveted. He always is.

Quickly, however, it became too dark to read and we each became lost in our own thoughts. We listened to the slapping of the waves against the hull and watched the moon set behind us. Land had long since slipped away. 

Every 15 minutes we scanned the horizon for any sign of lights indicating ships, but tonight there were none.

The wind was behind us at a steady 12 knots and all was well.

–Captain Cat 

(transcribed by the Can Opener)