It was one of those days. The kind that every sluggard loves, and every tired sailor welcomes. The day when the seas are too rough to really plan anything or expect anyone to get actual work done. So many people sick from the constant and unpredictable rocking and rolling around all three of the ship's axises. Today it was best to just go right back to bed after watch, if there wasn't (and there wasn't) any emergent issue. In bed the motion is comfortable like a hammock. From inside the skin of the ship, I thought it was a nasty day for weather. I had imagined overcast skies with a gloomy, depressing hue. I was pleasantly surprised. The sun was bright, the skies a bright baby blue, and the seas an intense indigo color. The cap of each wave splashed white and the space just below the whitecap where the light shone through the wave was emerald green. The wind blew at a steady 30 knots and waves averaged six feet, occasionally reaching twelve. Because my ship is wooden, it is highly affected by the weather. Imagine a cork bobbing on the surface, blown around by the wind. We are wooden, light, and slow so we can sneak into an underwater mine field and do our job without being detected by a mine.
The past couple months has been extremely busy for me. We have been underway or away from Bahrain 28 of the last 35 days. That includes two days visiting Oman. I have been enjoying the challeng of standing officer of the deck underway, which is the Captain's watchstander who has overall responsibility of the navigation and safety of the ship. I also earned my surface warfare qualification while underway--a very big milestone for me. This has led to a significant increase in my confidence around the ship.
Having met my required qualifications, though, there is a tendency to relax and slow down. But the less I focus on work, the more I look forward to returning to the US, the slower that time moves. It seems that time only marches with me: If I am moving time will move.
