Nov. 1  Noontime Position Lat 47deg 40,3 N, Long 137deg 42,7 W
Over the Tufts Abyssal Plain

What’s rocking my world these days is water, and lots of it. The Hanjin Copenhagen is large (about half as long as the CN tower is tall), but it’s also crossing the Pacific Ocean, which makes up 40 per cent of the planet’s surface.* The ocean floor is thousands of metres below us, and the wind has been blowing head-on  unimpeded for thousands of kilometres. Which means it’s relatively rough out here, even on a big ship. We have been in Beaufort 10 seas (on a scale of 12), described as a “Storm” in the Marine Observer’s Guide on the bridge deck:

“Very high waves, with long overhanging crests; the resulting foam, in great patches, is blown in dense white streaks along the direction of the wind; on the whole, the surface of the sea takes a white appearance; the tumbling of the sea becomes heavy and shock-like; visibility affected.”

I had my safety orientation with the 2nd Officer yesterday. I was made to watch a video presentation (emergency procedures, etcetera, with a jaunty jazz piano soundtrack). Then we walked around the ship and he showed me various flares, beacons, life rafts, personal flotation devices, as well as the muster station. Rather sensibly, the dispensary is right across from the so-called drinking store. As I now understand it, my role in any emergency is to go to the bridge and then stay out of the way. The deck tour, in near gale conditions, confirmed that I won’t be doing any real running around the ship. The deck surface may be flat, but the sea is not. I don’t intend my last triathlon to be a run-swim-die.

Today I stepped outside for a bit to experience those winds. Hooo-eeee! Small children and dogs wouldn’t have been safe. I had to have both hands on the railing to keep from getting knocked down. Even breathing into the wind was very difficult. I managed to avoid seasickness until lunchtime. The Steward brought me a big breaded pork cutlet and I had to excuse myself. A hearty heave-ho in the cabin, a lie-down, and all is good now. Presently, it’s calmer but we still all stumble a bit walking around. It’s the same sort of motion as you get on a plane going through turbulence, but dampened by the ship’s size. In the shower this morning, it was neat watching the water sloshing back and forth before it went down the drain. You put a pen on the desk, and it rolls around.

We have altered our course southward to avoid more severe weather (a nasty-looking red circle on the forecast printout), which means we’ll be going into the yellow/orange blob instead over the next few days. This entails covering a greater distance towards Busan, Korea (our next destination), but less wear and tear on the vessel. The steel hull flexes as waves crash into the hull, and that’s a good thing too! Otherwise we could end up with our bow and stern on wave crests with nothing to support us in between. Trough to crest, wave height is upwards of 14m.

*Fact checkers can correct me on this and other figures throughout. I don’t have access to Wikipedia.