The literal ocean currently surrounding our existence is pure and powerful. Every moment is hewn with unbearable beauty, unknown wonders, and a certain risk that we embrace. The spontaneousness within this natural medium is a comfortable challenge that we willingly merge with. The hydraulic and ultraviolet frequencies find us with all haste―landing with a rhythm of carnival drums and remind us that this is the music of life and we must compose a score with the notes that are presented.

As we depart from Fernandina, Florida we are in motion―a motion that possesses a rhythm only nature can set. The waves and the wind lift, push, and sway us along our headings towards the future. The seconds, minutes, and hours are visible with every ripple in the water that pass by as quickly as they arise. Time here is compressed: a day can embody the happenings of a month in the world that we were so inured to until our birth into this seafaring existence. However, there is a paradox in this relationship with time that seems exceedingly rich yet simultaneous rapid as if we have barely begun to know this place.

On our second night to sea on our elongated passage to the Domincan Republic and we watch the results of a magnificent planetary rotation. We unsuccessfully attempt to capture the motion of cosmic filters and illuminators with our sophisticated light boxes and arguably more aptly with our minds. The earth's watchful mother departs. A splashing melody of erupting palates―complex and unpredictable―gently blazing and extinguished with a promise of return that can only be known when witnessed.

Another temporal segment has passed and we have become aged with waves of air and light. We do not acknowledge or perceive this senescence with much concern or evidence, yet we are tacitly aware and taunted by it. Our wisdom of time increases with every passing of it and our associations of the phenomena are further defined by civilized artifacts found in our regiment that has become our comfort in this unpredictable venture of life.

Regardless of what time has passed, we are reluctant to succumb to a static acceptance of what it represents or the frequently purposed importance. Time is only captured by the bindings we attempt to secure it with, yet remains unwaveringly resistant to impediment. In the purest moments of life, time exists only by measure of mortality and the encounters within that limited period.

And although our relationship with time continues to behold novelty, we know that we are awarded with this experience. We are entangled in the fabric of time and life. As we sail through this ocean―through this experience of life―we collect the souvenirs of the universe we are creating. We embrace these moments that defy adequate descriptions with all that we are able to―compressing them into a dense remembrance―that later inspections will reveal the true richness of this time in our lives.

Marine Science Instructor, Jason Childers

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We’ve been out at sea for around ten days. I’m not quite sure exactly how long, it seems I’ve lost track of time. I awoke this morning to the sight of a faint silhouette of mountains lining the horizon, and by noon lush green cliffs were in sight. The anxious anticipation aroused by seeing land is beginning to replace my previous melancholy feeling of our long sailing voyage coming to an end. Although I wish that we were sailing for a few more days since the winds just recently picked up, I am excited to visit the Dominican Republic and gain a sense of their culture.
Thinking back to my previous days on this long stretch of sailing, I realize how far I have come, how far everyone has come. I am no longer mindlessly following orders without understanding the purpose for my actions. Everything is beginning to come full circle as my knowledge and understanding has increased. The feeling of knowing something so different is exciting, and every day we continue to advance.
However, the most exciting part of this voyage has been going aloft. After working my way up to aloft clearance, learning my knots, and the running and standing rigging, I was finally able to go aloft with Angela. After going over the safety, I began my ascent to the top of the port side foremast shrouds. My first step on the sheer pole was sturdy, but from that point on, my legs trembled with every ratline. I could feel the ship dancing with the waves below, and the unsteady shrouds breathing with my movements. With each step I gained more stability, but less room, and soon enough I was perched on the cross trees at the top of the mast.
Focused on calculating my movements, I never had time to look down during my climb. Only when I reached the op did I peer at everything around me. I was greeted by 360 degrees of crystal clear azure waters. There was nothing else except the ship below my feet, the bird’s eye-view. Suddenly, everything was put into perspective. This ship, my temporary home, was so insignificant. Something so large, large enough to hold so many of us, was so miniscule in comparison with the tremendous seas we depended upon. The view was absolutely breathtaking. Inspiring. And although I should have adrenaline pulsing through my body, I was calmer than ever before. -- Michelle

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Wednesday, October 26, the Harvey Gamage is currently sailing at a pleasant speed of about seven knots. After several days without wind the current pace is a warm welcome from our relying on the ships motors. We had a celebration of sorts yesterday, we were five miles away from the Tropic of Cancer when Captain told us to ‘hove to’ and had a short swim call. During swim call some of my fellow students passed around their goggles to anyone interested in taking a look at the bottom of the ocean. What a sight it was, although there were no schools of tropical fish or reefs to observe, the water was an incredibly beautiful shade of blue. Music blasted in the background from the ship’s speakers and once we all returned on deck, we were treated to some cold punch and chocolate! -- Eli Clare

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The sun is about to rise and there is an eerie feeling in the air. The sea is so calm you can see the reflection of the stars in the water – weather that is not conducive to sailing. Everything is still. When the sun finally shows itself over the horizon the colors that appear are indescribable. I took around twenty or thirty photos and no matter how hard I tried, it was impossible capture the beauty of the scene around me.
Somewhere along the way we picked up an extra passenger – a large heron perched itself on the bowsprit and watched us while he rested. Boy did he get a good show! Two students, Matt and Andrew, climbed aloft with deckhand Angela for the first time! This is one of my favorite events to witness. In order to be given permission to climb aloft, first they must become aloft cleared which involves weeks of studying the rig, knots and safety precautions. One can imagine the smiles from the faces of these two boys as all their hard work had finally paid off!
This group of has come a long way over the past five weeks! It seems like only yesterday we were all meeting for the first time at Proctor, now those clean clothes have become dirty, and they are transforming into salty sailors. Currently they are taking on more and more responsibilities around the ship and working together seamlessly as watches. I am so thankful to be a part of this amazing adventure.
--Brooke

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“Strike the outer jib!” the mate cries from the quarterdeck. The command is repeated and the sail makes its way down past the two towering masts. Orders are yelled, people scurry to the halyards and downhauls. It’s week five we are finally starting to really understand what we are doing and why we are doing it. The outer jib must be stowed, so I find my harness and put it on as quickly as possible. Then I run to the sail tie bag and drape the coarse ropes over my shoulder. I hear the scraping of the sail against the outer jib stay. The ship’s crew yell cries of, “Halyard fast!” and “Downhaul fast!” It’s time to go out onto the head rig. I run aft to the mate and yell “Going out on the head rig!” I see him flash the thumbs up which means I am good to go. My cry of, “Laying on!” is almost drowned out by the roar of the sea. I hear the clips of the carabineers of the people clipping into the jack line behind me. We grab the miter furl and furl the sail. As the sail begins to take on the tubular shape, which we all strive to do, the sea splashes beneath the safety net engulfing my feet. We get the sail ties daisy chained around the beautiful sail and then we head back to the deck, “Back on Deck.” -- Andrew Duzs

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Sunday, October 23, finds Harvey Gamage sailing along in light winds and sunny weather. Sun is very much welcomed after a couple days with grey clouds and scattered rainstorms. This being Sunday, it is tradition to have what is called “make and mend” day. It is a respite from our classes and a day where we can relax and rejuvenate ourselves for the upcoming week. This morning found people up on deck eating, catching up on schoolwork, or simply relaxing. After a hearty breakfast of Spam and pineapples, eggs, rice and sticky buns cooked for us by the wonderful Andy, the fisherman sail was set for the first time during the voyage. There was another first for this journey today as well. Around 10:30, Cap announced a swim call. We hove to, and everyone jumped overboard. The water was a brilliant shade of blue and extremely clear. The swimming time was only fifteen minutes so as not to attract the attention of any animals in the nearby waters, but every minute was much enjoyed. All members aboard went in and when back on deck, we were informed that the water we were in about three nautical miles deep. After swimming, there was lunch of macaroni and cheese. As part of B Watch, I have had most of the day off because of the way rotations fell. Since I was up from 4:00AM til 8:00AM, I don’t go back on watch until 16:00, which was quite nice. Between the light seas and sunny weather, today has been a great day. It is 15:42, and watches muster 15 minutes before they are on, and as lateness is discouraged, here ends the blog entry of Amina Hughes.

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