Spring 2001 SEAmester East Journal

Sent weekly from sea by on-board SEAmester coordinator and professor Chris Hamilton ...

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SEAmester Log, Part 4 May 4, 2001
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Hi there, you’re still with me? Good. This will be my final entry, written a week after the end of the trip. One thing I accidentally omitted from the end of my previous entry was our swim call that we had between the Bahamas and Florida, in 3000 meters of water! The sun was scalding, the water was tepid and the wind was non-existent, perfect reasons to have our final (or so we thought) swim call before we reached the colder waters of the United Stated in the grips of spring. So with the ship hove to we jumped over the side into the beautiful cobalt blue waters in the middle of nowhere with no visible bottom.

So, after a brief few days in St. Mary’s where we provisioned the ship, did our laundry, etc. we visited Cumberland Island, a beautiful and mostly undeveloped barrier island at the southernmost point of Georgia. We decided that for our first day on the island we would have a little island stroll (a.k.a. the "Death March"), a SEAmester tradition. We got geared up, distributed maps and cautions, and about half of the students decided they wanted to walk the entire length of the island, or as I called it "The Double Death March", about 28 miles. In one day. I’ve done that hike once in my life. I’m glad I did it but I won’t ever do it again. Everyone got back to the boat safe and sound, eventually (I think new records were set for amount of time to complete the death march, and for the size of foot blisters). The next day was filled with academic activities, after the Easter egg hunt, including a geological and biological survey of the island. Back on board we were treated to an excellent Easter Sunday dinner then got underway for Beaufort, NC before dark.

Two days out to sea, and just beyond Cape Fear, we found ourselves preparing the ship for an impending storm with possible gale force winds. The day had a darkly calm and surreal feel to it until mid afternoon when the winds began picking up, rapidly. In a matter of minutes we were in 30mph winds, the sails which we had reefed in preparation were dropped so that we were sailing with only our staysail. In a short while we say what appeared to be a heavy rainfall approaching us from the direction of the wind, as it got closer we realized that it was actually not rain, but rather much faster wind that was blowing water off the surface of the ocean giving it the appearance of heavy rain. This is what mariners call a White Squall. It hit us with a fury, the winds, which we already thought were ridiculously strong at 30mph, increased to 50mph, gale force, bringing with it a vast temperature drop. At this point, since the wind had been blowing for only a short time, the seas had not yet had any time to develop, so we were sailing of a relatively calm sea. Soon though the swells formed and within an hour we were in 15 foot seas. Talk about white knuckle sailing. If you weren’t on watch (on deck sailing the boat) you were hiding below in your (or someone else’s) cabin. Everything got tossed around, many cabins got wet, everyone got bruises, anyone on deck was freezing cold. For those prone to motion sickness this was a nightmare. For those excited by action, this was a dream. These conditions lasted us until about 5am when we approached Beaufort and the swells diminished near land. We motored into Beaufort at first light, tied up at the fuel dock, took a deep breath, and started in with the stories of the day and night of the big storm over breakfast. We spent the next few days at the Duke University Marine Lab there in Beaufort, using their dock, microscope laboratories, libraries, internet connections and showers all gratis to us as a visiting program. Love that southern hospitality. About this time we had to decide whether to visit the Chesapeake Bay, as planned, and run the risk of arriving in Greenport late, which would have been disastrous, or bypass the Chesapeake and find an alternate stop. It just so happened that the family of our first mate, Beth Doxsee, met up with us in Beaufort and invited us to visit their clam factor at the southwest end of Long Island. An insiders welcome sounded good to us so we set sail to the north for Long Island.

A few days later, after completing all classes, except for final exams, we approached Point Lookout (just west of Fire Island) on Long Island. We were greeted at the entrance buoy to the channel by Beth’s dad, Bob Doxsee, in one of their families clamming boats. They guided us through the channel to the back side of the island, where we were greeted by a giant sign reading "Welcome Home Beth and Harvey Gamage" and a crowd of about 40 people. A hero’s welcome, and the community’s prodigal daughter calling out commands to bring the ship to rest alongside her family’s pier, but not before we fired our cannon in salute, thanks to the black powder supplied to us by Beth’s mom. This was the first time anyone knew of any such large sailing vessel visiting the town. They gave us a tour of the clam factory, and threw a great BBQ party for us that night, inviting half the town down to socialize with us grubby sailors. Hospitality on Long Island? You bet. It was a wonderful little community, almost like a town that time forgot, and we are greatly indebted to their kindness and generosity.

Soon we set sail away from the Doxsee Clam Factory (by the way, their clam chowder and baked stuffed clams are incredible!) for New York City, where just before sunset we anchored beneath the Statue of Liberty, which combined with the skyline of NYC made for a very impressive backdrop, and welcome back to the lives we were familiar with. We only had a few days left in the trip at this point, and everyone was really enjoying their time on board and with each other. The following morning we weighed anchor and set sail up the East River, firing a cannon salute to South Street Seaport, marveling at the sights of Manhattan and the underneath of the bridges as we worked our way up river, to, HELL GATE! This is a notorious region of converging water masses, where the Harlem and East Rivers join each other. One must properly time their passage of HELL GATE with the tides in order to minimize the impact of large standing waves, giant whirlpools and unknown monsters. We had to pull out some quick navigating in order to avoid a oncoming Tug and Barge, then crossed THE GATE with minimal incident, just a little shaken up. This soon let us into the tranquil waters of Long Island Sound, up which we sailed until sunset where we anchored for the night near New London.

The following morning was a brisk sail (I think we reached our fastest speed of the entire trip, 11 knots) across the Sound to Bug Light, near Orient Point where we anchored, and spent the day cleaning the boat and packing our bags in preparation for the next day’s departure. Some brave, or foolish, souls thought this would be a good time to have one last swim call. Probably 16 students and crew jumped overboard and practically ran across the water to climb the ladder to get back on board. The water temperature was around 50 F and the air was even colder. Ah, its good to be young. We also had our graduation ceremony with speeches, diplomas, handshakes and hugs. After dinner everyone gathered together in the salon to watch some of the video footage that Jill had been collecting throughout the trip. We relived the hike to the Boiling Lake in Dominica, the overnight in the Bahamas, highlights of Cuba and of course, our very own White Squall.

The next morning was very short, sweet and intense. After a final breakfast with toasts, speeches and student poetry readings we got underway, sailing to Greenport where former seamester students and everyone’s friends and families would be on the dock watching us come in. As a matter of pride, we wanted the sailing to be perfect, so as we approached we rehearsed the upcoming order of events. Sailing past the dock, firing the cannon, turning up into the wind, dropping sails and approaching the dock. It came off perfectly, for the most part. As soon as the gangway was placed between the dock and ship, the program was over and we lost everyone to the delirium of being reunited with their loved ones. One student was even proposed to on the dock! Tears were shed, hugs were shared and families were given tours of the boat. Within two hours of our arrival the Harvey Gamage lay deserted and silent at the dock, as though nothing had ever happened, smugly enjoying a sense of pride in having indelibly affected the minds, bodies and spirits of 23 young people.

Fair winds and calm seas,
Chris Hamilton

My apologies for keeping the fish tallies out of these stories, I don’t know what came over me. Anyways, the final counts for fish caught on the trip:

Mackerel: 2
Little Tunny: 5
Bluefish: 3
Mahi-Mahi: 3
Barracuda: 1 (released)

Past entries
Part 1
Part 2
Part 3

Fall 2000's Seamester Diary Archive