SEA Sailing

In January 2016, I was invited by Sea Education Association (SEA) to participate in their "colleague cruise" from St. Croix (USVI) to San Juan aboard the tall ship, SSV 'Corwith Cramer.'  Named after the founding director of SEA, the Cramer is one of two sailing school vessels (SSVs) currently operated by SEA.  It is a 134-foot steel brigantine, designed by Wooden and Maraen as a research vessel for operation under sail, and built in 1987 by ASTACE in Bilbao, Spain.

SSV Corwith Cramer under full sail

Based in Woods Hole, SEA is an internationally recognized and highly respected educational institute that offers a variety of experiential learning programs at sea, involving courses and training in nautical science (practical seamanship), marine science (oceanography), and the humanities (cultural anthropology, environmental studies, human geography, and history).  Many mariners in the tall ship community (and most of the officers of the Kalmar Nyckel) are SEA alumni, and all rave about their programs.

Twilight on the quarterdeck of the Cramer

  SEA courses are accredited through Boston University.  A couple times each year, they invite faculty and staff from colleges and universities for a 'colleague cruise:' to spend a few days at sea, working the ship and gathering scientific data, just as students would do, and getting a first-hand feel for what SEA programs are all about.  Frankly, it's a great marketing strategy.

Here is a link to the SEA Semester website: http://www.sea.edu

The Admiral and I flew down to St. Croix on New Year's Eve to spend a short week together exploring the island before I joined the ship.  We had a great time, but she vowed never again to let me select accommodations; she didn't like the fact that the place I picked was set amid lush tropical vegetation with all its insects, particularly the not-so-small spiders we occasionally found in the bed (but that is not a story for this blog).

Well, I for one thought it was a lovely setting....

My voyage, C-263B, was from Christiansted, St. Croix, to San Juan, Puerto Rico, January 5-9.  We carried a crew of 39, including 20 academic "colleagues" and 19 regular crew.  

Approximate track of SEA voyage C-263B

We were all divided into three watches (six hours for day watches, four hours for night watches), which I found preferable to the traditional watch-and-watch system of four-on, four-off.  

Leaving Christiansted, St. Croix....

We each rotated through various station assignments (Deck, Science Lab, Galley, Engine Room, etc.) with every new watch.  

Practicing donning immersion suits -- need to learn to do this in less than 60 seconds.

I confess that I enjoyed 'Deck' assignments the most: handling sail, steering the ship, conducting hourly boat checks, and keeping lookout from the bow.  The latter was particularly interesting at night, in the rain.

Underway under tops'l and stays'ls...

I also discovered that I very much enjoy sailing on open water (some people do not), as well as sailing at night (many people do not).  My training the previous August on the tall ship, Kalmar Nyckel, was invaluable.  At least I understood a good deal of the running rigging and how to work it safely and effectively.  "Two - Six - HEAVE!"

Furling the Jib while underway, north of St. John

The weather was fair and the seas were generally calm to moderate.  The transit through Pillsbury Sound, between St. John and St. Thomas, was on a beautiful morning.

While I had no problems with seasickness, several of my shipmates did, including one fellow was incapacitated for the entire voyage (despite the pills we were issued).  We ran into a few rain squalls here and there, but no significant bad weather.

After the rain....

Along the way, we hove-to at a number of stations to collect scientific data (a major part of what SEA does).  Sometimes this entailed lowering equipment miles into the depths of the Puerto Rican Trench (the deepest part of the Atlantic Ocean, at over 8600 meters).  At other times, it involved surface towing of a neuston net, shown here being readied for deployment.

Part of our responsibilities entailed maintaining and updating the ship's log, as part of our duties while standing watch.

This meant learning to identify cloud types, to estimate wave heights, to assess sea states on the Beaufort Scale, to read a barometer, and to monitor a taffrail log.

Very cool.  I gotta get me an old fashioned taffrail log for 'Piao'.....

I was thrilled to get a chance to learn how to use a sextant.  Not as complicated as I had feared, but also a bit tricky to do on a rolling deck.  Now I know what to ask for next Christmas.....

 During our celestial navigation class, I also discovered that I should have paid a lot more attention in math class back in high school....

With perseverance, some of us learned some rudimentary navigation skills.  I've always been good with maps, but navigating with nautical charts across a featureless sea surface is a very different endeavor.

One day, I was asked to give the morning navigation briefing on the previous 24-hours of the voyage.  Got to display my public speaking skills, artistic and cartographic talents, and (...wait for it...) math proficiency (Haha!)

My favorite part of the voyage, by far, was the opportunity to go aloft while underway.  The view from the course yard was spectacular!

There was a bit of a learning curve in trying to eat on gimbaled tables -- the tables are stationery and level, it is the ship that is rolling.

If you lean on the table with your elbows, you will discover why they call it "mess."

Approaching Puerto Rico, we were met by dolphins, which frolicked around our bow for about ten minutes.

At the end of the voyage, we sailed into San Juan harbor under the impressive battlements of the 16th-century Castillo de San Felipe del Morro.

I cannot speak highly enough of my experience with Sea Education Association.  As I told the crew, I think I made a wrong turn with my career choice a long time ago.  Time to start thinking about wrapping up research on China, and to chart a new course for myself.

Meanwhile, I've been trying to promote closer ties of collaboration and exchange between Stony Brook and SEA.  There is considerable interest from faculty and students at the School of Marine and Atmospheric Sciences, as well as from some departments in the College of Arts and Sciences such as Anthropology and History.  I met with our study abroad office in an effort to arrange a seamless transfer of credits for undergrad participants.  Unfortunately, the assistant dean of that office was not very enthusiastic.  "We have great study abroad programs of our own," she said.  "What is the point of this?  How can we make money from it?"

*Sigh....*

Lifeline Rehab

'Piao' still sports her original 1982 lifelines -- the old kind that are coated in plastic.  I didn't pay much mind to them the first year I had the boat; I was thrilled simply to have the boat.  But by the second year, as I began to take more care about making things "shipshape," those old lifelines had become an embarrassing eyesore.

The plastic coating was yellowed, cracked in many places, and showing worrisome signs of rust.

  Last spring I stopped in at the Rigging Loft (a workshop in nearby Fairhaven, MA) to ask about the cost of replacing the lifelines, but "sticker-shock" at the estimate sent me running humbly for home.   This winter, I came across an article in the January 2016 edition of SAIL magazine, featuring a DIY job: "New Life for Old Lifelines."

So, as part of my spring preparations, I got to work.  First, using a utility knife, I cut into the plastic coating.

Then, with the help of a pair of needle-nose pliers, I tediously stripped the old plastic coating off both lifelines.

This job took about an hour for each 20' lifeline, although I got a bit more efficient at cutting and stripping as the work progressed.

Then I coiled the lines, secured them with zip-ties, put them to soak overnight in a closed-lid plastic bin filled with a gallon of Osphro rust treatment.

The next morning, I scrubbed the lines and fittings with a wire brush before rinsing them thoroughly with fresh water.  I can't say they came out as shiny as those pictured in the magazine article, but they did look surprisingly good.

At very least, the lifelines won't be my main source of embarrassment this season, as I start cruising around.