Queasy

In 2003, 400 square feet of sail were traded away for 5.9 liters of cast iron. On a day with a fair breeze and the destination an easy broad reach away, I wonder if the decision to move by diesel instead of wind was the correct one.

The canals of Canada, the tidal races of the New Jersey inlets and under Lubec Maine’s Franklin Delano Roosevelt Bridge, and beating hellacious Great Lake thunderstorms into its harbors, if any of these are justification then, a sound decision was made.

But that is not what I am looking to explore here. It is a more mundane consideration. The one constant for me, whether by sail or power, is seasickness. It has plagued me since I first ventured on the water in a 26 foot sailboat owned by a friend's father.

Each season I awaited the inevitable episode of projectile vomiting. Old age has brought on a diminishing of the senses, so these days I get queasy and not violently ill - knock on wood or in this context fiberglass.

The Atlantic Ocean differs from the Great Lakes in that there seems to be a constant southwest swell that is indifferent to the wind’s direction. I can feel it now even sitting at my kitchen table typing this.

Carrie Rose’s base of operations is in Herrick Bay, Maine. Northeast Harbor and Bar Harbor on Mt. Dessert Island are favorite destinations. They are a 15 to 30 nautical mile cruise northeast from Herrick Bay. There is a point after rounding the island’s Bass Harbor Head lighthouse where the path opens to the Atlantic.

The shallow Bass Harbor Bar extends east off the lighthouse and though, even at low tide we are in no danger of grounding on it, it effectively divides the two waterways. It is common for the sea state to abruptly change, and often so does the wind strength and direction. To the east of the bar lies a few small islands that offers protection but once past them the southeast swell begins to be felt as it lifts Carrie Rose’s stern.

While I never cease to extol our little Nordic Tugs virtues, she does have a few peculiarities. One being the large billboard like transom that loves to get pushed around by a following sea, and two, a not quite buoyant bow. I have tried to remedy this by removing as much weight forward as possible and relocating it below deck in the stern.

With my limited knowledge of naval architecture, this seemed a prudent course of action; I am now beginning to think I have shifted the problem by 30 feet. So, when the swell attempts to raise the stern, the stern does not respond swiftly. With what must be thousands of pounds of pressure, Carrie Rose aft will eventually rise, and often with a thud ricochet off the swell.

I feel pressure build along the outer edge of the stern, and as the boat begins to yaw left into the swell’s belly I correct by turning the rudder to the right. If done correctly the boat will begin to surf as the mass of green water passes under. It can be quite exhilarating.

But buried deep within the petrous portion of my temporal bone the semi circular canal’s miniscule otoliths immediately register the discordant motion. They tumble chaotically and the nervous system, registering that something untoward is up, translates the signals into the dreaded symptoms we know as sea or motion sickness. It begins with a slight acidity taste in the back of my throat. Along with a queasy stomach comes a queasy mind.

Of course, the approach into Northeast Harbor narrows and the traffic significantly increases. It is the boating equivalent of entering onto a crowded city interstate from a rural road. Anything from super yachts to tiny one design sailing dinghies can be and are encountered. This is not to mention speeding ferries and fishing lobster boats. No place to lose situational awareness.

Charlotte instinctively senses this change in me and heightens her surveillance. It is the dividend paid from thousands of hours on the water.

I throttle back the turbocharged 6 cylinders below our feet. Slower is usually better in these circumstances, and am thankful there are no sails to furl. Though, it would be spectacular to quietly sail surrounded by the lush green mountains.

May 2020