The Motion of the Ocean

One thing I forgot to pack:  MY SEA LEGS!

The crew warned us last night as the Expedition was passing through the calm, serene waters of the Beagle Channel that leads us into the South Sea and Drake Passage, that the condition of the water would change dramatically once we got out into the open sea. They said sometime around midnight we would start feeling the swells of the much rougher sea and that some of us would experience an unpleasant physical and mental reaction to it.  Surely, that wouldn't apply to me, would it?!

I hit the sack, a twin-size bed with a down comforter, sometime around 12:30 a.m. after a long, exciting day and expected to fall instantly into Dreamland.  But within five minutes after cozying up into my little maritime cocoon, just like clockwork, I began to feel the rolling, undulating rise and fall of the ship succumbing to the force of the waves beneath it. Over the course of the next ninety minutes, my mind became fixated on the motion, and I didn't let go of it finally until after 2:00 this morning.  I've never felt anything like it.

Arising this morning around 6:00 a.m. to brilliantly bright, sunny, gorgeous skies, although a bit tired from such a short slumber, I found myself staggering like a drunken sailor across the room, weaving and losing my balance as the floor rocked like a cradle beneath my feet. 

On the way to the dining hall for breakfast, I noticed everyone on board also was moving like they were slightly inebriated. Several people mentioned over their croissants and scrambled eggs that they too were feeling a bit queasy, and even though I hadn't actually felt nauseous (knock on wood), I felt I was just one or two steps away from it.  A couple of the passengers had gone to the ship's doctor and asked for medication early in the morning.  One person had a seasickness patch behind his ear.  Fortunately, before I left, I had purchased a box of Dramamine - just in case.  It was on my list!

As the day wore on, the sensation of pre-nausea followed me intermittently and just to a slight degree during the day's scheduled activities: the three, hour-long lectures on board (how to identify Antarctic sea birds, the Shackleton Expedition - such an amazing tale! - and a movie about how wildlife survives on the Antarctica in such brutally cold conditions.  When lunchtime came, I passed. 

Eventually, I had to convince myself that the motion of the ocean is something I had to embrace.  It is nature's rocking cradle, and I needed find a way to live WITH it, not to fight it. And you know what?  Within an hour of my resolution, the discomfort went totally away.  Gone.  I still "keep one hand on the ship" as the captain instructed us to do, meaning use the ubiquitous handrails that line every hallway, every staircase and every restroom on the boat for safety purpose. But now I no longer feel as if my stomach is a little upside down. Instead, I try to imagine that I'm being rocked in my mother's arms as a baby.

In France, they call it "Mal de Mare", but I discovered today it's more "Mind over Matter".