Countdown to Boat: 9 hrs, 8 minutes

Hiking up Mt. Roberts, Juneau Alaska

It’s never inspiring to wake up and find your pillow smeared with chocolate. I blame the happening on the fact that I will be living on a boat in less than 10 hours. The clock is ticking down to my departure on the Sea Bird and I fear many things:

• First, I fear I will never find a loofa. I have searching all day for one amidst the wilds of Juneau to no avail. My shower routine will be all off.
• Second, I fear imminent doom in the form of sea-sickness.
• Third, I fear I did not memorize my nautical glossary well enough. Aft, port, starboard, WHAT’S THE WORD FOR FRONT?
• Fourth, I fear I will mess up my service etiquette and place the coffee handle at 3pm instead of 4pm.

The list could go on and on but I suppose if I keep going I’ll brainstorm superfluous worries that will trump my valid worries.

Otherwise, I have been enjoying my last few days on beautiful, solid land. After being told by a taxi driver in Seattle that I would be a hit in Ethiopia because of my nose, I hit the streets for some famous fish-throwing action at Pikes Fish Market and rode the Ferris Wheel whilst snapping unruly selfies that were subsequently deleted.

And then there’s Juneau. Mysterious, mystical Juneau. After a short flight over the mountains and glaciers in SE Alaska, I scarfed down some salmon chowder in a bread bowl and Alaskan smoked beer while chatting up some friendly neighbors in the pub. The rain was on and off, but I decided to ride the tramway up Mt. Roberts and hike for the next few hours. It was blissfully silent except for the rushing waterfalls and stray eagles (ok, they were crows). Few people were on the trail so I reveled in my solitude and meditated in the mountain air. Until I started fearing bears. And boats.

 

 

How to Pack for 6 Months at Sea

Hallelujah it fits. I can’t lift my bag, but miracles don’t work if you’re greedy about them. Keeping with tradition, I decided to pack last minute so my day passed a furious frenzy of anger, anxiety, and self-pity. Yet people refuse to believe me when I say I’m a lousy packer. I’ve lived out of a suitcase for two years and can do an army roll like a seasoned marine, but I am always inadequately prepared and entirely unhappy at the end of my packing endeavors.

This time was different. At long last, my days as a packing wizard have arrived. I have the utmost confidence in my too-small-for-sea duffel bag which will carry me through the next 6 months. Despite minimal clothes and too many Battlestar Galactica DVDs, I have declared an end to my packing. So let this list attest to the culmination of many stressful decisions and careful considerations!

Clothes:

1. 1 pair of jeans
2. 1 pair of leggings
3. 2 pairs of athletic shorts
4. 1 pair of sweatpants
5. 4 t-shirts
6. 3 tank tops
7. 2 sweaters
8. 1 Pull-over
9. 1 hoodie
10. 1 rain jacket
11. Uniform Items (3 pairs black pants, 2 khaki pants, 1 pair khaki shorts, 3 t-shirts, 4 polo’s, 1 fleece, 3 button downs, black sneakers, white sneakers)
12. Hat, scarf, gloves
13. Bathing suit
14. Hmm, this is starting to seem like a lot.

Meds:

1. Every motion sickness pill from here to Timbuktu
2. Painkillers
3. Dayquil
4. Ginger chews (candy also counts as meds)

Shoes:

1. Hiking boots
2. Rain boots
3. Sneakers
4. Flip flops
5. Boat shoes

Toiletries:

1. Too many to list. But was economical in cutting out nail polish.

Other:

1. Passport, wallet
2. Nikon d5500 Camera and accessories
3. Laptop and charger
4. Phone and charger
5. Battery powered alarm clock
6. Sunglasses
7. Tissues
8. Stationary
9. Gum
10. Umbrella
11. Brush, hair ties, and bobby pins
12. 2 books
13. Messages in a bottle
14. Water bottle
15. Captain’s telescope
16. Sailor hat
17. Corn cob pipe
18. A sleeping cat
19. All the seasons of Battlestar Galactica. The remake.

Look at the list! Pretty impressive if I do say so myself. Now that I’m lounging in my hotel room in Syracuse waiting for my 6am flight to Seattle, I am starting to obsessively think about what I may be forgetting.

Gah my loofa.

A Cheese Fest Miracle

“He who is shipwrecked the second time cannot lay the blame on Neptune.”

– Buffet Star Fortune Cookie, NY 7/29

The call came as I stood contemplating the death of Sugar Plum in Ben & Jerry’s Flavor Graveyard outside Burlington, VT. “We would love for you to join Lindblad Expeditions’ crew aboard the National Geographic Sea Bird in Juneau, Alaska as our new steward!” I had been anticipating these words since March, so I shrieked with excitement as I whipped out my Cabot factory brochure to take notes and scribble fish in the margins.

Minutes after hanging up, my first bout of sea nausea set in. Maybe it was just the brick of cheese I had eaten an hour earlier in preparation for the Vermont Cheesemakers Festival or the somber realization I was amidst a graveyard of ice cream flavors, but the idea of living in cramped quarters on the menacing sea whilst working 12-hour laborious days was finally beginning to sink in. Hmmm, perhaps this seafaring life might not be as romantic as I imagined.

But, comatose from dairy overload and doubts (mostly) aside, I signed my contract and will shortly commence my 6-month journey down the Alaska coast, up the Columbia and Snake River Gorges, and throughout Baja California and the Sea of Cortez in a 150’ vessel called home. As a steward, I’ll be in charge of the cleaning and scrubbing and making people happy when they are soaked through the bone during a hurricane. It might not be pretty, but it will surely be ________. Adventuresome? Better than being keelhauled? I’m not quite sure.

So without further adieu: These are the voyages of the Nat Geo Sea Bird. My 6-month mission: to explore strange new worlds, to clean toilets and serve dinner, to boldly go where no debt-ridden BC grad from Norwich has gone before. Welcome aboard!