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Rhythm of the night
By Meghan, web editor. 30 March. Swish... thump. Swish...
thump. This was the gentle sound of my body hurtling from
one side of my bunk to another as the Warrior rolled in
some formidable sea swells last night.
You've heard from assistant cook Lesley about how vegetables
roll during those 'diagonal' times on the Warrior. Well,
crew roll as well - and much more elegantly.
An example: smoko (break time) yesterday morning in the
mess, 10:00am. The ship is rolling 35 degrees. In walks
Kristina, who somehow ends up on her bottom sliding from
one side of the room to another. Haussy, who is fixing himself
his usual marmite and cheese sandwich, calmly watches as
the cheese box goes flying out from under him. Kristina
has risen up and walks to the back of the mess; a large
swell sends her skidding into the back of the table right
against the videographer. In the meantime, I have begun
to make my way to one of the tables holding a glass of water;
I end up holding the glass of water over my head, pouring
the entire contents over myself. (There was much laughter
at my expense, for which I will seek revenge.)
Another example: my bunk last night, 10:00pm to about 5:00am.
I've been sleeping on the floor due to some back trouble.
Action doctor Janine advised me yesterday to sleep in my
bunk. Sleeping on the floor can be quite dangerous as objects
take the opportunity during times of rough seas to relocate
themselves. I decide to remove my mattress and stick a therma-rest
pad underneath my sleeping bag. (Sheets and blankets are
provided on board; however, I have an inordinate attachment
to my sleeping bag and it is a source of consolation to
me during times of PAT.)
I get into my bunk. Getting into the top bunk during large
swells is a matter of skill and agility. You have to time
it so that the ship is rolling in the direction you want
to go - otherwise it requires tremendous might to hoist
yourself in - so I always wait until the ship has just begun
to roll to starboard. Then I move quickly - step on the
table with my right foot (it is on the port side of my bunk)
and use that as leverage to throw my body into my bunk.
If I wait too long for the roll, I run the risk of throwing
myself over my bunk completely and plummeting to my death
on the other side.
But I have it down to a science and make it in with only
minor cuts and bruises. Then I realise I have a problem.
The therma-rest pad is not as wide as a mattress. And it
skids.
Swish... thump. Just as I lay down my sleepy head, the
pad skids to the other side of the bunk and my butt is thrown
against the side. Swish... thump. The pad skids back, I've
walloped my head. Over and over and over. My back is not
pleased with this arrangement.
I try curling up so that my head is braced on one side
of the bunk and my feet are pushed against the other. A
highly unnatural position for one's body, which I learn
quite quickly. I try bracing myself with my arms extended.
As soon as I begin to fall asleep, of course, the muscles
relax and my head kisses wood. Bonk.
I can hear Nikki in the other top bunk making little grunting
noises as the ship rolls - she's having trouble as well,
I think. But Lesley, dear Lesley, is snoring away in the
lower bunk, oblivious. And I can't hear Kristina underneath
me, but her quality of sleep is certainly not enhanced by
the swishing bumping sounds being made above her.
Sigh. I give in to the rhythms of the night - you can't
do much else. I snooze when I can, bump and roll when I
can't, and meditate on calm seas and firm land. It ends
eventually - about two hours before the wake-up call. Though
bleary-eyed and bruised today, I'm ready to give it another
shot tonight.
Meghan
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