By day 14 in our ocean passage, I was really ill but despite feeling terrible I still found ways to love the voyage. And our 5-year-old daughter. How was she doing? Read on.
Atlantic ocean passage day 14 – I hate you sea…no, no, no…I love you sea!
Woke up and want to die again. I just took an ibuprofen and that’s given me enough strength to type this. My head feels like it’s going to burst – liquid mucus is sloshing back and forth at every swell. My left ear is once again fully clogged. And I’m constantly fighting bouts of feeling nauseous. I’m tempted to put a Scopamine patch behind my ear (seasickness option) knowing from past experience that it will burn my skin and cause my eyesight to temporarily decline.
I’ve been trying to treat my ear infection ignoring my need to avoid full-blown seasickness. What a mess.
I managed to get up in the cockpit. After eating a bit of food I had Simon put a patch on me. Instead of putting it behind my ear I put it in my back. Perhaps it won’t burn my skin there. So far I feel like I’m on another planet. I can’t stand for long. I can’t keep my head up. Okay. Enough.
The sun is hot. Flying fish are everywhere I look. During this ocean passage, we’re seeing loads of a yellow-green seaweed. Lately, I’ve been thinking that nothing seems to matter anymore. Not in a bad way. I use to be so caught up in my old life about who I was, what I did, what my purpose was and on and on. I was so full of thoughts, opinions, goals, and plans.
Right now I feel like a simpleton.
I don’t have any strong thoughts, my opinions are more like slight preferences that can easily be changed and I have not one goal (other than getting across this Ocean but that’s more of a matter of time than something I have to work to achieve). I have no plans for the future. Nothing. I have no idea where I’ll be this time next month.
Is this a good thing?! I don’t know. It feels normal now but I’m not sure if I’m a better or worse person for it. I suppose it is what it is and ultimately it doesn’t matter. I’m in the middle of the ocean and nothing matters. No drive, no future (other than sailing), no purpose. The only thing I feel strong about is helping my little girl to learn to read, write, do Math and understand how to make the best out of life…or at least impart anything I feel that’s transferable.
Damn you sea!
I just looked aft at the slate blue sun-soaked rolling Atlantic and overheard myself think, ‘I love you… I love this.’
What is wrong with me? How can a person ensure such miserable seasickness and yet look at the disruptive source with loving eyes? Am I like a battered woman that goes back for more or a prisoner that falls for her capture? It couldn’t be the same, could it?
Perhaps in a past life (not that I’m necessarily a believer), I was a sailor and in this life, I’m drawn to the sea despite my allergy to swells. It’s just that I look out to the sea and I become lost or perhaps mesmerized is a better word. I watch the White crests powerfully break into being and then quickly disappear. I look through the turquoise transparent swell tops that reach to heights above the back of the boat. And all those peaks and troughs effortlessly dancing to nature’s tune. I’ll have to ask someone if wave movements/patterns are fractals. I bet they are hence the attraction. I have such a love/hate relationship with making this ocean passage.
(Later) It’s 5 pm so I’ve managed another day.
Aside from one nap I’ve sat in the cockpit all day. The boys did my trash duties for me. I’ve been in good spirits as long as I keep my head down. For 20 minutes I managed to sit at the front of the bow with Simon and Sienna. We hung our feet over the side and let them hit the water.
The temperature felt so warm – just like bathwater!
I got a kick out of Sienna. She said, ‘we only have 4 days left?! Why did everyone tell me it was going to take ages to cross the Atlantic?’ I explained that we’ve been on the sea for two weeks – did she think it went fast? Sienna’s response was, ‘yes!’
So there you have it – people were worried about us bringing a five-year-old along for an ocean passage adventure and from the looks of it she’s faring much better than her mother 🙂 so there are no worries about Sienna.
Murray is below cooking two pork fillets wrapped in dried apricots over a bed of roast potatoes. Sienna is holding court by explaining how to play a game. Simon is sleeping. Simon has been such a trooper. With me unwell, he has to look after me and Sienna and still be the captain of the ship. I do hope we fare well for the race results – for Simon’s sake.
This is a once in a lifetime event and it would be nice to finish with a top score.
Boat owners are allowed to use their engines as long as the time/mileage is noted. So just because other boats cross the line before us doesn’t necessarily mean they were faster. Many used their engines during our couple days of light wind. We’ve used our engine for a total of four hours. The boats in the racing division, however, are not allowed to use engines at all.
The smell of potatoes wafting up the companionway is divine.
I’m very excited about dinner tonight. Sienna is now arm wrestling Andrew. Kenny came up to read next to me. Eve is watching a movie. We’re all one big happy family. Today I chatted with Eve a bit. I think she’s got a lot to think about. I admire her courage to get on a boat headed for the Caribbean not knowing if and when she’ll find work. At least she has us to help her out and provide a ‘home’ for her to stay in.
What’s Next in our Ocean Passage sailing guide?
- In the next article, we finally broke 200 miles in 24 hours during our Atlantic crossing. And we had a bit of a disaster. Find out how we handled the situation here: Ocean Cruising Yacht.
- In the previous article, find out how we celebrated our half-way party sailing across the ocean.
- Click here for a general overview of our Atlantic Crossing
