by The sea is a turbulent gray-green and the other students have retreated to their bunks and toilet bowls as they battle the incessant swells. Looking out the port window I am witness to a miraculous sight: the largest orca whale I have ever seen—no, it must be the largest orca in existence—is making a beeline towards my window. Leaping out of the water in a dolphin-like manner, he gains distance quickly. I’m stunned by the beauty, the power of this glorious creature when I realize that if he doesn’t change course, he’ll run straight into the boat! He’ll crash into my window, he’ll—
Music?
I’m awoken by my phone alarm and scrabble to turn it off. Ah, just a dream. The orca might have been obscure dream symbolism, but the seasickness is all too real. It’s day two of being out on stormy seas and I am one of the fortunate few that has evaded the symptoms, thus far. Breakfast provides a level of optimism as more of my peers make appearances with claims of “feeling much better” than the day before. Hopes for more gentle sailing from here on out are soon dashed, however, as we are presented with bad news: a hurricane off the coast of Hawaii is projected to make its way towards the Gulf of Alaska. To escape this storm, we’ll have to sail headfirst into a lesser typhoon that we were hoping to avoid.
Luckily, we are able to launch the CTD and sediment scooper to collect data and samples with most students present. Shortly after collection, sea spray beings attacking us from the edge of the boat with more ferocity. We stumble inside to the dry safety of the boat while the captain proceeds to secure the deck for our safety. No more fresh air for us.
“STEMSeas? More like STORMSeas,” a student humorously remarks. Albeit we’re traveling during the stormy season, but none of us were expecting the seas to be quite this rough.
As the day progresses, we gradually lose students to nausea until there’s only three of us left standing. After geology lectures we’re met with more bad news: due to the large waves and headwinds of up to 50 knots, we’re traveling too slow and there’s a high probability that we will miss our flights. Besides missing school and not having enough internet to do my homework, I’m not too worried… the food is phenomenal, the company is good, and the lounge is stocked with movies.
Later in the evening, we’re sheltered by a nearby island where the swells are small enough for us to stop the boat and take more samples. We make quick work of it and soon disperse to nap, play games, do homework, talk, or, if you’re me, write your blog post while listening to some crew members’ beautiful jam session.
Dusk settles into another tempestuous night and we hunker down, preparing ourselves to be rocked (rather aggressively) to sleep. Goodnight seasick students. Goodnight Sikuliaq.
