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Silence
I am laying in my bunk next to my first mate……my soul mate. A
slightly chilled breeze enters the open hatch near our heads and cools
us, but I can not sleep. The night air is so still and quiet I can hear
everything, but there is nothing. The moon has risen and is washing out
every detail with a glow that gives everything a silver tint. The
shoreline is there hidden in moon shadow. I can just make out the old
dead fir where the osprey nest is. We swing on our mooring and it
offers a different picture every few minutes.
You just can’t get that anywhere else.
There is a sound, a sort of thump. I crawl out of my bunk to
investigate. I pull on a long sleeve shirt to keep the chill off.
“Thump”, there it is again. I stop and listen, trying to zero in on the
hidden sound. It is outside. At least I think it is. Something is bumping
against the hull. Climbing up the steps, I slide the hatch open and am
caught between breaths by the canopy of stars over head. The deck is
wet and slippery. Droplets of water hang on the rigging. Sliding the
hatch shut silently, I listen again for the “thump”, but it isn’t there.
Checking the tender to ensure that it is not being pushed against the
hull I see it is not. Walking forward, I peer into the black water and
see stars reflecting off the surface like a mirror. Sea creatures move
about below the surface disturbing microscopic organisms. When these
little wonders get disturbed, they light up and appear like shooting
stars in the water.
“Thump”, there it is again. It is closer this time. I look over the side
and see that the mooring buoy is resting against the bow. There is no
current or wind to keep us off of this floating noise maker. Finally I
decide to let out a little more line that ties the boat to the mooring.
Hopefully this will allow the buoy and boat keep some space between
each other, and thus let the skipper sleep.
Before I go below, I sit for a moment and gaze up at the heavens
above. So many stars, too many to even comprehend. I remind myself
that I really should know more of these reliable points of navigation. I
can see a satellite zooming across the sky in a never ending ride
around earth. I could look up all night, but after a few more minutes,
my tired eyes win out and I head back below.
Ang does not appreciate my cold body sliding next to her to warm
body. I am met with a groan and an elbow letting me know I am on my
own to get warm. Ah well.
“Daaaddy”! Ellie yells from the forward V-birth. I lay still for a
second making sure I heard her right. Did she call for mommy or
daddy?
“DAADDY!” This time I heard it right. Reluctantly I slide out of my
newly warmed side of the bed and work myself forward to the kids
cabin.
“What’s wrong honey?” I ask. I sit down and gently brush blonde
hair from a scared little face.
“I scared” she says still half sleeping.
“What scared you sweetie?” I wonder if the thumping mooring had
scared her.
After a moment she gathers her things together. She finds her
“mouse”, “blankie”, and sippie cup. She looks down at the foot of the
bed to ensure that “bear” is standing watch over her, and he is.
“Are you ok now honey?” I ask gently as her breathing slows, and a
gentle snoring begins. Before I can cover her back up, she is again
sleeping with angels. Checking on her brother Zak I see that he is
soundly sleeping with his big yellow duck. Back to bed I go. Again I
slide into the cold side of the bed.
Moments later I hear a noise through the hull. It is the unmistakable
sound of water being thrashed by a propeller in the distance. Probably
a ferry headed to Friday Harbor. Living in Friday Harbor, we heard
that noise every hour or so as the ferries came and went from the
busy port. I know that not long after the ferry passes, we will feel the
gentle rocking of her wake.
There it is. And wouldn’t you know it, the long gentle rollers are hitting
us on our beam. The rocking starts slow and then rises to a crescendo
and then slows until the momentum will again rest.
During the rocking and rolling, I hear a noise. “Clunkitydunk” is
coming from the galley. I know this sound from past nights. In
anchorages that are not protected. Again I slide out of bed and step
down into the salon. Moonlight is shining through the ports like a
spotlight. I feel around the cabinets and find that one of the sliding
doors has not been closed completely and is making the “clunkitydunk”
noise as “Ghost” rocks on her beam.
Back to bed again. The night is passing in silence. Although silence
is a word that everyone would describe differently, for me it means
every sound is identified and quieted to the best of my
means……Silence. Now I can sleep.
slightly chilled breeze enters the open hatch near our heads and cools
us, but I can not sleep. The night air is so still and quiet I can hear
everything, but there is nothing. The moon has risen and is washing out
every detail with a glow that gives everything a silver tint. The
shoreline is there hidden in moon shadow. I can just make out the old
dead fir where the osprey nest is. We swing on our mooring and it
offers a different picture every few minutes.
You just can’t get that anywhere else.
There is a sound, a sort of thump. I crawl out of my bunk to
investigate. I pull on a long sleeve shirt to keep the chill off.
“Thump”, there it is again. I stop and listen, trying to zero in on the
hidden sound. It is outside. At least I think it is. Something is bumping
against the hull. Climbing up the steps, I slide the hatch open and am
caught between breaths by the canopy of stars over head. The deck is
wet and slippery. Droplets of water hang on the rigging. Sliding the
hatch shut silently, I listen again for the “thump”, but it isn’t there.
Checking the tender to ensure that it is not being pushed against the
hull I see it is not. Walking forward, I peer into the black water and
see stars reflecting off the surface like a mirror. Sea creatures move
about below the surface disturbing microscopic organisms. When these
little wonders get disturbed, they light up and appear like shooting
stars in the water.
“Thump”, there it is again. It is closer this time. I look over the side
and see that the mooring buoy is resting against the bow. There is no
current or wind to keep us off of this floating noise maker. Finally I
decide to let out a little more line that ties the boat to the mooring.
Hopefully this will allow the buoy and boat keep some space between
each other, and thus let the skipper sleep.
Before I go below, I sit for a moment and gaze up at the heavens
above. So many stars, too many to even comprehend. I remind myself
that I really should know more of these reliable points of navigation. I
can see a satellite zooming across the sky in a never ending ride
around earth. I could look up all night, but after a few more minutes,
my tired eyes win out and I head back below.
Ang does not appreciate my cold body sliding next to her to warm
body. I am met with a groan and an elbow letting me know I am on my
own to get warm. Ah well.
“Daaaddy”! Ellie yells from the forward V-birth. I lay still for a
second making sure I heard her right. Did she call for mommy or
daddy?
“DAADDY!” This time I heard it right. Reluctantly I slide out of my
newly warmed side of the bed and work myself forward to the kids
cabin.
“What’s wrong honey?” I ask. I sit down and gently brush blonde
hair from a scared little face.
“I scared” she says still half sleeping.
“What scared you sweetie?” I wonder if the thumping mooring had
scared her.
After a moment she gathers her things together. She finds her
“mouse”, “blankie”, and sippie cup. She looks down at the foot of the
bed to ensure that “bear” is standing watch over her, and he is.
“Are you ok now honey?” I ask gently as her breathing slows, and a
gentle snoring begins. Before I can cover her back up, she is again
sleeping with angels. Checking on her brother Zak I see that he is
soundly sleeping with his big yellow duck. Back to bed I go. Again I
slide into the cold side of the bed.
Moments later I hear a noise through the hull. It is the unmistakable
sound of water being thrashed by a propeller in the distance. Probably
a ferry headed to Friday Harbor. Living in Friday Harbor, we heard
that noise every hour or so as the ferries came and went from the
busy port. I know that not long after the ferry passes, we will feel the
gentle rocking of her wake.
There it is. And wouldn’t you know it, the long gentle rollers are hitting
us on our beam. The rocking starts slow and then rises to a crescendo
and then slows until the momentum will again rest.
During the rocking and rolling, I hear a noise. “Clunkitydunk” is
coming from the galley. I know this sound from past nights. In
anchorages that are not protected. Again I slide out of bed and step
down into the salon. Moonlight is shining through the ports like a
spotlight. I feel around the cabinets and find that one of the sliding
doors has not been closed completely and is making the “clunkitydunk”
noise as “Ghost” rocks on her beam.
Back to bed again. The night is passing in silence. Although silence
is a word that everyone would describe differently, for me it means
every sound is identified and quieted to the best of my
means……Silence. Now I can sleep.