I awaken in the morning to the harsh shrill of the alarm. The generator is, as usual, buzzing in the background but the cry of this machine next to my bunk still manages to abruptly pull me from my slumber. I always close my eyes for a couple minutes just to test the theory that night watch is cancelled and that I can continue to sleep. This never happens, and I always end up disappointed. Night watch has become a regular occurrence that barely fazes the majority of our crew. It is only when you are standing on the bridge, with the wind whipping you in the face, when you wonder, why in the world am I awake at 4 am? I've become used to this time to think about anything and everything that pops into my head, and I have actually started to enjoy it (strange as that sounds). Night watch passes with a mixture of fire checks, sail manoeuvres, and helming. Finally, when the watch officer announces that we are allowed to leave, my watch and I make a break for our bunks. We practically sprint down the stairs to our rooms, taking off our foul weather gear in the process. I get one sweet hour of sleep before waking up for morning fitness.
If one is not participating in morning fitness, it is really one of the funniest things to watch on the ship. Picture this: 24 sleep-deprived students who are trying to exercise but mainly end up falling asleep on deck. Mrs. Cleland asks in a pleading tone for people to please open their eyes, and we do try, but it’s quite difficult to find the motivation to do thirty crunches. Next event of the day is breakfast, which today consists of oatmeal. After breakfast, there is Colours with an assortment of new announcements. “Please shut the doors as the air conditioning is on, please do not eat breakfast after Colours if you failed to show up to breakfast before Colours, only seven days until Christmas” etc. I listen to the announcements and I look out to the horizon. My day feels like it started a long time ago and it's only eight o’clock in the morning. I make my way to cleaning stations where I am to clean the classroom. After a blur of scrubbing, sweeping, mopping and drying, I look at the work of my watch and I am satisfied. Class begins at nine, and from then on my day is a flurry of classes, day watch, sail manoeuvres and the occasional nap. Finally at six o’clock I can rest for half an hour before dinner.
Dinner tonight consists of lasagne, a meal which is both delicious and extremely filling. I practically inhale the food and pat my stomach with delight when I am finished. After dinner I make my way to the classroom to do some homework. That is what I am doing right now. I am in this room, surrounded by my great friends – each of them doing their own work – and I smile to myself. This is the life of a sailor. It is tiresome, stressful, difficult, and unconventional, but it is fulfilling beyond belief. It is this life that drew me back to Concordia and to the sea for a 2nd year. To be able to travel into the horizon by the power of the wind is a modern day magic. I am a sailor who is tired and stressed but happier than I have ever been. This is the life that I love, and it makes me very glad that I can say there is nowhere that I would rather be. My friends look at my writing and smile at its cheesiness but we all know that this is true for us. Unconventional though it may be, the life of a sailor is the life for me.