Scourge of The Seven Seas .....

5 a.m. in the morning, Wilson's Warf, and I was getting ready for my aventure on the high seas in an attempt to land the "big one".  The skipper looked confident that although there was a significant wind, the seas were much calmer then the last few days when the deep ocean swells, visible from the shoreline, were white capped.  Filled with confidence, despite the internet weather report of two meter swells, I boarded the rather small boat and swallowed a tablet to prevent the onslaught of that scourge of the seven seas that lays waste to the strongest of men.

  

The boat could not have been longer than eight meters from bow to stern, and by four meters across at the stern.  Two rows of bunk seats, that doubled as storage hatches, reached from the bow to the bridge,  approximately halfway to the stern.  The bridge was the size of a wardrobe with its back facing the bow and a door opening the port side of the boat.  The back of the bridge housed the wheel and throttle and above that an awning of sorts that protected the skipper from the sun.  The boat was steered standing up so that the skipper could see the bow over the bridge. Behind the bridge, reaching towards the stern, another set of  bunk seats which doubled as a hatch to store the fuel for the two outboard motors that powered the vessel. Fishing rods and buoys of various sizes adorned the starboard and port sides of the bridge.

  

The calm waters of the harbour belied the state of the ocean that lay beyound the harbour mouth and a sense of calm and elation washed over me. As we made our way towards the harbor mouth the swell, imperceptible at first, slowly raised higher and higher.  The forward motion of the boat masking the raising swell, till we were on the open ocean.  Now the boat raised high up onto the swell and, with a sudden loud THUNK, landed in the valley between the swell. 

"Oh crap!!! What if the boat cannot withstand the beating?  Will I be able to swim in this ocean with no sight of land, or least an intermittent sight of land???!!!!???", THUNK!!!!, I thought.

It was a roller coaster ride across the swells as we made our way towards the fishing spot THUNK! As we progressed my confidence rose higher and higher. This was gonna be a good day of fishing THUNK!  the scourge of the seven seas has not got me, could it be that I developed an immunity to it-THUNK?  Yes! Yes! Yes!-THUNK! 

"Drop the anchor!", shouted the skipper and the growling of the engines was replaced by the sound of the swells frothing white as they journeyed  to the shore. The boat now at the mercy of the current span around while being lifted up with the swell completing a 360 degree turn by the time the next swell began lifting the boat.  

Interlude! Now what you need to know is this, This movement throws the brain and inner ear, which is used to maintain your balance, into utter disarray as the movement being percieved by the ear, what the eye sees and what the water is doing is not quite in sync.  This disarray immediately gets the body producing a potent cocktail of chemicals as a result of this confusion of which one of the side effects causes you to excavate the contents of your gut immediately or as it is more commonly know sea-sickness, the scorge of the seven seas, well for me at least.   

I lunged forward, leaned over the deck railing and attempted to excavate my already empty gut into the ocean. Nothing and I had a distinct notion that if I continued in this way that my vital organs would be ripped out of their warm abode into the ocean and swim to shore. When the retching finally stopped I quickly scanned the ocean surface for any signs of vital organs that may have to be retrieved.  Seeing none I felt much better and thought the worst was over.  I sat back and, acting on pure instinct, jumped forward grabbed the rail and proceeded to retch all over again.  Nothing still!

At this point quesiness settled over me and every five minutes or so, acting on pure instinct, my body lunged forward across the deck railing and attempted to retch the nothingness in my gut into the ocean. Concern about finding any vital organs after a couple of retching sprees completely vanished and was replaced by a burning disire to plant my feet firmly on terra firma.  After enduring, what seemed like an eternity, I relented and pleaded with the skipper to take me back.  After, what seemed like hours and many more retching sessions, the skipper finally started the engines and headed back.

Back over the swells. Back through the calm harbour waters. Back to the pier where the boat was moored, I leapt off the boat flat onto the boardwalk happy to be back on terra firma.  I cannot begin to explain the feeling of relief that I experienced at being back on stable ground.  The skipper turned to me, a sorry sight piled in a heap on the pier, smiled and remarked, "Pity, the fish were just starting to bite.  Maybe next time we will have better luck!".  I could not shake the feeling that I had been had.

I resolve to return to conquer this scourge of the seven seas.  Does anyone know where I can get some sea legs? ;-)