Night Watch

Night watches used to be the bane of my cruising experience. I l-o-v-e sleeping…especially at night and often well into the morning. Well, truth be told, these days “well into the morning” is usually around 8:30 am. At any rate, since I began cruising there has been no option. Night watches are part of the deal. There are just never enough crewmembers on board who are willing to do the entire 6pm to 6 am shift. Sigh…

At first, during the arduous (and seemingly endless) part of the journey as we descended the Oregon Coast night watches were not only frightening but cold and damp as well. The ocean after dark was pitch black except for the frothy wind chop breaking atop each swell. The swells were coming from both the NW and SW so it felt a lot like being an abandoned sock in a washing machine. There were 3 of us on board so we stood 2 hour watches but by the time you went below, no matter how many layers of clothing you had on, you were cold, cold, cold and the first order of business (even before using the head or crawling into bed) was to set your gloves and socks inside the engine room so they would dry out and warm up before the next shift. I was often heard muttering (or whining) “I don’t know which is worse…daytime when I can see what’s coming or nighttime when I can’t.” There was nothing romantic about this ordeal and, frankly, it was often downright scary.

When we finally rounded Point Conception, the seas calmed down and night watches got much less frolicsome. But…Southern California provides its own set of obstacles. There are more large ships to be dodged, crab pots with black floats (yeah...just try seeing those at night) and, in one section huge oil derricks that were lit up like downtown Hong Kong and wiped out your night vision pretty quickly. My adrenalin level never really went below the “alarm” level until we were well south of San Diego and I realized that it was finally possible to get through an entire shift without seeing another boat. In fact, we have now done entire passages where we have seen nothing but wildlife and an occasional sail way off on the horizon.

When I finally stopped being a big knot of stress, some amazing things began to happen. One night we were passing between Cedros Island and another smaller island to the west of it. When I came up for watch in the wee hours it was so black it felt like being inside a velvet bag and you could only tell there was an island close by because it blotted out the stars. It was a narrow passage and felt very eerie so I had some real heebie jeebies going on. Suddenly I heard a “whoosh” to port of the boat. Then I heard another to starboard. Suddenly there was entire pod of dolphins swimming with us and throwing off green sparks from the bioluminescence. They “escorted” us through the entire pass just as if they could sense that I was nervous. It was an unforgettable night.

Last summer, while we were in the South Pacific, I was assigned the “primo” watches on the boat: 6-9 pm and 6-9 am. It was amazing to watch the sunset and the sunrise every day we were at sea. Every one was different and each was absolutely glorious. It is not possible to explain what it is like to be in the middle of a seemingly endless ocean when the sun makes its first appearance of the day or takes its last bow on the horizon. With nothing but water as far as the eye can see the sun is in full command and it puts on an amazing show. On morning watches I would listen to either Andrea Bocelli or Chris Botti as I experienced the “birth of the sun”. It was a heavenly experience.

The passage we just made from Los Muertos to La Cruz seemed especially long because we had no crew on board and the auto pilot had quit working so Chris & I had to hand steer for 33 hours. Still, on my final night watch, as we passed the Tres Marias Islands, the ocean was filled with bioluminescence. All around us huge green blooms exploded just beneath the surface and the boat’s wake looked like a wedding veil set with millions of tiny, sparkling diamonds. It was like sailing through an underwater fireworks display.

All these experiences have changed my feeling about night watches. I’ve gone from dread to acceptance and now to eagerness. My only regret is the magic cannot be adequately shared with words or captured with a camera. Still, the beauty, solitude and majesty of night on the sea is a gift that I can hold within my heart forever.