0030 - 39.40.0'W x 62.17.6'W

"Very, very interesting" is what deckhand, Diven Mohlanlall called it. Personally, I would use the term "rowdy". The event in question? Why, that would be the 58th birthday of our shipmate, Tom Fitzgibbon, our trusty "varnisher-in-chief", auctioneer of ship's goods and king of making our brightwork beautiful for the summer tall ship festivals. Not that his birthday celebration itself was "rowdy" beyond keeping a rapidly melting (yet delicious) cheesecake from pasting the deckhouse tables as opposed to our stomachs - it was what was going on outside that deckhouse that was rowdy.

"Rollers" I like to call them, big, troublesome things stirred up to mischief by the wind to give us a good "knockabout". They are large swells up to 6.5 meters high created by winds that that nearly approached Force 8 at times on the Beaufort scale (about 40 knots of wind).

The day before Tom's birthday, June 9, was unassuming enough. Sunny enough for a day of varnishing, quite calm with most of our canvas set. The next morning, however, saw the wind picking up, hour after hour, as my watch began to shorten sail in response. The royals and topgallant square sails came in with the outer staysails. A strong Force 7 wind kept up through the night and by morning the rolling seas that kept burying our lee, starboard cap rail into the water forced us to shorten our sail yet further - leaving our masts but bare sticks save for the lower topsails - our strongest square "storm" sails, along with our lowest staysails.

In the Europa's official logbook, the description of these swells and the sea condition is "wilde zee" (wild sea). I agree, and I believe our cook, Rensje does as well. She said that it was "like being in the Drake…but minus two!" It is a pretty awesome sight to see, those deep gray-blue moving hills that crest over with white foam and turquoise at their tops, as if in imitation of actual mountains; A tumultuous turmoil as far as the eye can see in all directions.

The question most often asked of me as a sailor is; "Have you been in any storms?" People have a real fascination with storms at sea, and they often seem to have some misconception that the sea is always stormy or rough. I suppose the mariner's themselves are to blame as I doubt they spend their time in a port watering hole talking about their adrenaline-heart-pounding "sunny day with a beam reach" and BBQ on deck. Rough seas, squalls and gales are all exciting to see, but they are a real pain to work and sleep in!

Above deck it is a wet and salty affair, with spray dousing even the wheelhouse, the lee rail dipping into the occasional wave, and torrents of water rushing from the scuppers trying to grab at sailor's ankles, trying to mischievously pull them into the lee scupper to give their beards a good rinsing! Both Divan and me were at times swept off our feet by waves coming over the windward rail and were washed into the lee scuppers! (Diven still insists that this weather "is nothing" - after the Drake he is not impressed). This wind is not even fun for the animals - I saw a large bird try to land on our deck, and as he turned toward us he was, quite literally, blown away!

Below decks it is akin to being in an earthquake that can go on for days; everything not tied down, falls down. Pots, pans, big wrenches, books and loose doors all reach out from the walls to try to tap your nose. A normal corridor turns into a twisted funhouse as you keep your balance in a space moving at wild angles - and those spry enough to manage without difficulty get to push their skills by ascending rolling stairways with pots of steaming hot coffee, knowing that it must not spill because a cold and wet crew needs that coffee. Over time you learn to time your movements and brace against the big rolls. As Diven says of rolling; "hold onto your coffee cups and tack your sandwich." - Decidedly sound advice after I saw a bowl of soup end up in someone's lap at lunch! No amount of advice however can fix the sleeping problem - I haven't yet met anyone who says they can still sleep well being tossed to-and-fro in their bunk.

Its fun at first, but after the first hour this rolling gets old - cleaning everything that's breaking and breaking more things as you thrash about cleaning the things that are already broke is a bit frustrating! My real pity goes to our cook who simply wants a nice day for a lovely meal on deck. She woke me yesterday morning with a grumble about us having "another day in the Drake." If you ever wanted to know what it was like to be those poor ants getting shaken up in the ant farm by the bad kid in science class, well, this is the time and place!

Things have calmed down now though today - enough for me to write this without the laptop and I sliding off the library bench. We even had a nice coffee on deck and Tom did some wet sanding, so things are going back to normal…for now. Although, I have to admit, when it is all over I am going to feel pretty satisfied to get to see the ocean in such a "rowdy" state. It really is an awesome sight and it will be what I tell people in port about to re-affirm their idea that the sea is always like this. It was worth the trouble, in retrospect, to see the ocean like this.

Finally, after dinner our crew took a break for a birthday, wearied from a day of sail-handling, furling, fixing broken things, dealing and chasing things not lashed down. As Tom ate his birthday cheesecake I had to ask him; "So Tom, just what was your birthday wish today?"