Europa by night

Unlike in the day where the majority of the people on board are milling about on deck, working, laughing and storytelling, in the night, only the crew on duty can be found above deck. Few lamps stay on.

At first sight to the dog watch crew, at first sight, the Europa looks like a ghostly pirate ship from the movies. Cutting through the black steely waters alone, empty, but resolute with plumped up sails and strong purpose. Then you squint your eyes and start noticing the quiet bustle of activity on deck. You hear the shadows of twos and threes setting some sail, working in hushed tones amid the occasional clatter of the wheel being turned on the aft deck. Some shadows of course, just sit and look thoughtfully at the sea.

Then there is a night sky. Few words can actually describe it. On clear nights it is like someone took a white ink pen and splattered a black ceiling with thousand upon thousand uneven little white dots and then with a magical wave bringing it all to life twinkling and sparkling in blotches and patterns. Then suddenly a shooting star blazes into oblivion in a quick streak of light. Above you, all around you, till the horizon. It is never ending. Ethereal, splendid and vast. The sage-like words of solo sailor and my fellow crew member, Kay, “I do not believe in God and then I met him”.

Lastly, the normal bustle and laughter of the crew aboard the Europa by day makes way for contemplation by night. As one looks down at the bioluminescent plankton explode in little splashes of light in the wake of the rudder, a crew mate you only met a few days ago for the first time ever kinds that the conditions are just right to share a very personal story. A story that normally requires courage and years of friendship to share.

The Europa by night is just as endearing at the Europa by day, but very different.