At Sea & Cape Horn
Sea Sickness
by Arthur Guiterman
I must go down to the seas again, where the billows romp and reel,
So all I ask is a large ship that rides on an even keel,
And a mild breeze and a broad deck with a slight list to leeward,
And a clean chair in a snug nook and a nice, kind steward.
I must go down to the seas again, the sport of wind and tide,
As the grey wave and the green wave play leapfrog over the side.
And all I ask is a glassy calm with a bone-dry scupper,
A good book and a warm rug and a light, plain supper.
I must go down to the seas again, though there I’m a total loss,
And can’t say which is worst: the pitch, the plunge, the roll, the toss.
But all I ask is a safe retreat in a bar well tended,
And a soft berth and a smooth course till the long trip’s ended.
This, of course, is a parody of John Masefield’s famous poem, “Sea Fever.”
Every traveler coming to the Antarctic Peninsula knows that there is a price to be paid for visiting this remote and magnificent world, and that price has a name: the dreaded Drake Passage. It is a roll of the dice whether the seas will choose to cradle, rock, soothe, toss, or torment us. We all wish for one of those fabled “Drake Lake” type of crossings; smooth seas, light winds, and lots of sunshine! For those of us on board the National Geographic Explorer today was not that day.
On our homeward journey to Ushuaia, Argentina the Drake chose instead to offer up moderate wind and waves. But try as she might, the vast majority of us on board had gained our “sea legs” and we were quite comfortable spending our last day at sea celebrating the warm embrace of newfound friendships and stories well told.
The afternoon seas finally abated as we entered into the Beagle Channel, in the lee of the coast of Chile. Our day was capped off with the photographic fruits of our labors in Antarctica as we shared a “best of” slide show and a Captain’s farewell dinner, a perfect ending to an amazing expedition.
