Satellite: Two nights ago after having floating tacos we had gotten back to the boat and were finishing up things, getting ready for bed. My children were pushing back on everything. If you know me, you’ll know what I mean when I say I lost my temper at them. Richard and Alice had been up on the bow, relaxing on the trampoline mesh area, lying back and looking at the stars. Richard came back where I was and told me to come with him. If you know me, you’ll also understand when I say I wasn’t having any of it, I was mad. Richard was trying to help, I knew, so I said something completely ungracious like, “fine, but only for five minutes. I’m tired, in pain and I want to go to bed.”
When I got to the bow Richard and Alice told me what they were looking for—satellites. The sun had set for us, but the sun would still be shining on any satellites as they were higher in orbit. That meant we could see them as they progressed across the sky. We chatted while we watched and sure enough. in just a few minutes Alice spotted a satellite. We watched it cross the span of the night sky in a single minute. Richard said if we got in a theoretical car and drive straight up at seventy miles per hour, it would take us seventeen hours to reach the height of the satellite. Guess what? I forgot all about being cross at the children. I told Richard thanks for insisting I come to the bow, it worked, I was reset.
Heavy Burden: Richard is our captain. His knowledge and skills about sailing are extensive. But being the captain is more than just knowing how to sail. He bears the burden of making all decisions and taking responsibility for all consequences. He does this with firm authority, directing the adults with jobs to perform. He also deals with my children who want to have fun and don’t understand sometimes they will have to be bored in order to be safe while we’re under sail. Our children know when the captain tells them something, they must comply without negotiating or questioning. This is to keep them safe. My children are pretty good at this but if they forget, Richard uses his captain voice which, in tone alone, commands.
Man Overboard Drill: Yesterday we did our man overboard drill with all hands on deck. The adults had been given a walkthrough a few days before by Richard. Yesterday we did the real thing. Our “man” going overboard was Andrew’s life jacket. Here’s what we did:
- Someone notices the someone has fallen overboard and yells out, ”man overboard!"
- Everyone who hears the cry responds as loud as they can, “man overboard!”
- If you have a a visual on the person (vest in our case) don’t take your eyes off of it. Point at the vest with your arm. Don’t waver from this. The captain is using your non-verbal communication to know where the vest is.
- The captain will seemingly be doing nothing and saying nothing. The captain is actually very busy. The first thing he does is mark a waypoint on the navigation system when the man overboard call came out. The captain’s job will be to move the boat back to this position as quickly and safely as possible.
- While the captain is maneuvering the boat he or the crew will pull in the Jib sail. He’ll direct crew if he needs help with this.
- Everyone else keeps pointing and looking at the vest (or person). Move to the highest point on the boat for better visibility as long as this doesn’t cause you to lose sight of the target.
- If you lose sight of the vest, keep looking, but drop your pointing arm. This can happen with big waves that can block visibility. If you see the vest again, put your pointing arm back up. The captain can look quickly around the boat to see if the crew is keeping watch on the overboard. He can focus his attention on navigating back to the waypoint and factor in change in location based on current by where people are pointing.
- Hook the life vest or throw out a life preserver for the person when we get back to them.
That’s the highlights of the procedure. Yesterday we were moving at a pretty fast clip under sail when my husband threw the life vest overboard. Everyone did their jobs and in a faster time than would have guessed possible we were hooking the life vest back on board. Richard said, “congratulations, we just saved $40” (that being the cost of replacing the vest).
Dolphins: We were close to St. Croix when we did the man overboard drill yesterday, after sailing for several hours from St. John. Shortly after the drill was over, someone called out, “Dolphins!” I’d just delivered a honey & Biscoff sandwich to my hungry daughter at the outside deck table. Everyone was running around the boat, trying to see the dolphins. There were three of them, we think one was a mother and her calf. The calf stuck right beside the mother. Excited shouting ensued from everyone with this surprising turn of events. I didn’t go on deck though, I came over and say down beside my daughter. She couldn’t see the dolphins. She will never be able to see the dolphins. My daughter calmly sat eating her sandwich so I sat beside her, listening to the descriptions people were calling out. Then my daughter calmly but firmly said, “mom, go see the dolphins. I want you to see them.”
So I did, even though it hurt my heart to leave her. The dolphins seemed interested in our boat. They swam all around it. They surfaced and watched us as we looked at them. They did jumps and dives and hovered with their heads out of the water. After a few minutes I came back to the table where my daughter was eating her sandwich alone. I told her what I’d seen, using descriptive words that would help her understand. Then I told her, “gosh that sure looks like a delicious sandwich.” My daughter laughed, tore off a chunk of her sandwich and said, “Mom, you’re doing passive aggressive on me, but you can have some.”
Maybe my daughter is starting to accept her blindness. It was a trauma, losing her sight. It’a been a repeated trauma time and time again as she’s lost more and more of her residual vision. It’s very hard on her at times. Yesterday was sad, but I was proud of my little girl.
The Big Boy Update: We had our first vomit of the trip yesterday. So far everyone has been either completely unaffected (my daughter), mildly queasy a time or two (me) or nauseated for several hours while underway between islands or under high swells during travel (my husband and son). My husband and son have taken a short-acting dose of something and have come out fine once the boat stops moving or an hour or two later. Yesterday, my son did vomit over the side of the boat shortly after we left St. John on the way to St. Croix. It was the biggest chop we’ve experienced so far. My daughter loved it. I gave my son a dramamine and he slept for three hours. When he woke up he went strait for the Doritos as if nothing had happened.
The Tiny Girl Chronicles: We bought some time ago a refreshable Braille Display unit called an Orbit. She hasn’t been interested much in using it. Now that she’s more interested in reading we loaded up some books on the Orbit, which is sort of like a Kindle for the blind. She’s been reading and enjoying the Orbit a lot on the trip, so success there. She asked if I could connect it to her iPad yesterday so she could do some typing too. A while after connecting it she said to me with a big smile on her face, “I’m a nerd."
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