Imagine
an erratic stream of 3 foot nautical bucking broncos under your floor. The
deep, angry howling sound of their leader Poseidon above, below, permeating
everything.
The
boat is at their mercy. Our anchor, a muddy claw, reaching deep into the
mysteries below us, chain for muscly arm, holds us against the onslaught. All
night.
And
we sit in the darkness peering around in our floating capsule, the hopeful
against the futile – perhaps by our well wishes and generous doses of worry –
that we, and all the other boats, will have strong anchors too.
We
employ technology to confirm what we know – the chartplotter, on and ready for
duty at the helm reports 33 knots - the wind is pumping. The digital display at
once comforting and terrifying. The wind is definitely pumping and no one but
us is here to deal with whatever emergency might ensue. And it’s 2am. It’s
always 2 am.
This
is a relatively common practice called ‘anchor watch’. It always happens in the
dead of night, when, by Sod’s Law, all the storms happen. Poseidon loves to
taunt the sailors. But tonight he is particularly the bully. The wind begins as
forecast about 11pm. It’s now 7am and the seas are still agitated. The wind is
still pumping. There is a massive system off the east coast of America and we
are feeling it’s wrath.
Weather
dictates our life. Weather is our life in many ways. Our plans and destinations
and timing – weather. We are sitting in Nassau at this very minute because we
calculated the potential for this storm and figured this would be the safest
place to ride it out. Hemmed in on all sides by Atlantis Resort, cruise ship
docks, marinas and massive bridges.
“We’ll
be protected by the buildings” we said.
“And
by the cruise ships!” we also surmised.
Well
it all came to nothing as the wind and the waves bypassed our imaginary security
measures and hammered us all night.
It’s
not like we didn’t know this was coming. But we’ve learned there’s nothing much
to do but carry on as normal until the wind hits the boat! Or the shit hits the
fan. Sometimes those are two in the same.
But
yesterday in the calm before, we feigned regular tourists for the day. Hid
ourselves in the plain sight world of overfed cruise ship visitors.
We
are even sporting our version of the farmer’s tan with it being the beginning
of the season and all…
We
literally joined the ranks of people who are in the festive holiday mood.
Sampled the free rum, walked the town, perused the art galleries and marveled
at the beach bodies of every shape and size.
We
pretended we would also be heading back to a secure cabin or hotel room for a
hot shower and a prepared meal and maybe take in a show or hit the casino.
We
looked just like those who would be hitting their pillows without worry of
their homes dragging through an anchorage into a concrete wall or another boat
while they slept.
But
what is sleep to a cruiser on anchor watch? Something he’s not getting tonight.
Later
today – if the weather permits - we will sit at the pub just over there on
solid ground, amongst the fans and party folk, watching the Superbowl adverts
and the halftime show.
Nothing
to give away our secret, except maybe a few dark circles under the eyes or an
extra grey hair. Nothing but a twinkle in our eyes to hint that we are living
at the edge of society’s safety illusion. Living with the wind as our master.
Living a life unknown, where the highs are higher than the highest skyscrapers
and the lows involve anchors dragging through the mud.
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