Lintball of the Universe

Our experiences on the open sea at night are something I just can’t put my arms around to describe. During the overwhelming time on your shift, and subsequently during days and nights that followed keeping watch, and even when safely ensconced in a harbor in San Francisco Bay, Morro Bay or Ventura, you really get the vibe that the fabric of the universe late at night is so immense. All the interwoven sights, sounds, smells – the night sky meeting the water or the fog surrounding you in gray – it’s hard to take it all in. And then there’s you, that little “lint ball” floating on the waves. You’re just so small. It's a perspective that puts you in your place.

We watch the ocean and the minutes as they slowly tick by during 3-4 hours, wanting to share the experiences, unable to as the others sleep below preparing for their time at the helm. Eyes are peeled peering into the darkness for a light that might be a freighter or fishing vessel, watching the bioluminescence of the waves as they splash by – you can imagine so many crazy things in the water. Was that a ?? Then it’s gone. Was it real?