On Seasickness...

  By Chris

   There are those who get seasick, and those who say they don't.  The problem is, people automatically equate "seasick" with "puking."  That couldn't be further from the truth.  I know many fine sailors who never puke or turn any shade of green when the seas get up.  It's not that they are liars, it's just that they are uninformed.

  Humans are not meant to stir the waters of the world's great oceans. Originally designed for arboreal life, we descended to the savannah a couple million years ago, started hunting, speaking, and gradually grew bigger brains.  Around 50,000 years ago, anatomically modern humans departed Africa, most likely by crossing the southern portion of the Red Sea (when sea levels were much lower due to glaciation).  And thus began our love-hate relationship with the sea, an environment we were clearly not designed for.

  I've been traditionally "seasick" several times.  I guess I'm proud to say it doesn't happen often. In fact I can recall each time I puked in 9 years at sea.  There was the time on POLAR SEA in 35 foot rollers just north of Antarctica.  There was the time on ALEX HALEY in the Gulf of Alaska in winter while trailing the fishing fleet.  There was the time on DORADO getting airborne off 14 foot waves near the Lost Coast of California while our sewage system backed up onto the deck.  And there was the time on JEFFERSON ISLAND when we were getting battered by the steep seas of the Gulf of Maine in February (although I attribute that more to Jon Larson's serving eggs and sausage for dinner on our way out to the search and rescue case).

  However, seasickness is not just puking.  It's a spectrum of behavioral and physical differences that remind us of our ancient past on the plains of Africa.  As soon as we go down to the sea on ships, our inner ears start speaking to our brains, providing data inputs that say "something's wrong!!"  As  sea conditions worsen, or the time exposed to them increases, the human body starts to show signs of wear.

   Chief among them are fatigue and malaise, followed by dehydration and limited cognitive response, then nausea, vomiting, and a general wish to leave the world of the living.  I've seen the spectrum in my shipmates over the years, and I'm just glad that I was not the guy we had to airlift of ALEX HALEY for unrelenting seasickness - after he had been stuck in sickbay for 2 weeks barfing his intestines out.

   Luckily, time tends to dull the body's response to the stimulus and most people get over it quickly, including the crew of NAVIGATOR.  However, the past couple days near the Dutch island of Saba have reminded me of the nefarious side of the ocean...it's ability to turn me into a raging lunatic.

   My shipmates on EAGLE may have caught a glimpse of the banged up clothes locker above my computer station...the banged up portion was caused by my fist repeatedly colliding with it in my frustration of trying to work on my computer in gunwale to gunwale 45 degree rolls.  The ceaseless rolling of that cursed vessel would interrupt me as I tried to send emails or coordinate port events...left...right...left...right...for hours, days, and weeks on end.  After a while, I just couldn't take any more, and my clothes locker got a new impact crater.

   As we sat aboard NAVIGATOR in the "lee" of Saba, a 3000 foot high island with no harbors, we rolled...and rolled...and rolled.  I could feel the rage building.  There was no sleep. Instead it was a fitful night spent wedged into a corner trying to find some relief.  Lay one way and it felt like an endless ride on the pirate ship at the amusement park.  Turn the other way and I changed venues to the teacup ride.  Head aft into the cockpit and I was on the trampoline getting launched. The foc'sle was a dunk tank, taking green water over the bow...at anchor! Luckily I didn't rage against any inanimate objects this time - just noted a good reminder of how seasickness can manifest itself in a variety of ways.

  So, we cut our visit to Saba short and are now in the lee of St. Eustatius, in the Dutch West Indies...named for the Christian martyr who was tempted by his God on a sea voyage.  Thankfully, the rolling is much diminished.

Rage Against the Potatoes.