Friday, January 7 – Day and Night Watch Report on Board
Last night, we had the watch from midnight to 4:00 AM. The temperature was around 18°C, which isn’t really cold, but the wind was strong, so we had to bundle up. You could say the night wind was quite fierce—we were even briefly tossed around like playthings.
My cabin is number 2, right in the bow. With the huge waves and a heel of 10 to 20 degrees, it’s far from comfortable—let’s just call it a real challenge. The ship dives powerfully into waves and crashes into what feels like countless obstacles. You have to be very careful!
The night went well. Standing at the helm demands full concentration, watching the course, the rudder position, and the wind angle. Deep and often interesting conversations—which are normally perfect for a night watch—had to wait this time. It feels mighty to have control and master the ship. Our course was 145 degrees, and in the last hour of my watch, steering went smoothly. The wind occasionally reached 30 knots, with frequent gusts around 22 knots. The skipper prioritized using the wind correctly and maintaining speed, and we sometimes sailed 10–11 knots. After this intense watch, we were finally able to retreat to our bunks.
Getting through the watertight door is a challenge; I had to do a few balance exercises before safely reaching my bunk. Sleeping went well, and the next watch took over at 8:00 AM. Getting out of bed this morning was tricky, as the deck was nearly horizontal to the waves on the port side—where my bunk is—and I kept rolling toward it.
Usually, I start the morning with a shower, but that’s impossible today. Washing and dressing is an exercise in itself. The waves tower over the railing, and water splashes freely through the porthole, creating a full “washing machine” effect with the ship thrashing in the swells. The mast creaks and groans under the strain. After a very exhausting wash-and-dress session, I head upstairs, tackling the heavy watertight door—a real strength workout. Breakfast was skipped, as lunch was scheduled at 11:30 AM for those on the noon watch.
Donning all the sailing gear is exhausting, but even though it’s not cold, it’s highly recommended. I’ve got my GoPro ready to capture the wild sea. Watching the ship climb a wave, then dive with speed, the water splashing meters into the air, is mesmerizing. Hours could be spent just enjoying it. During our 12:00–16:00 watch, rain and seawater showers over the helm give a true sailor’s feeling. You can see the wind intensify during a front, then ease again afterward. The course can still be kept fairly northward.
After the watch, getting back to my cabin requires vigilance with every unexpected gust. “Stamping” is the term for the ship’s powerful surges. Inevitably, I lost my balance and fell backward onto my buttocks. Grabbing the edge of my bunk, I scraped my arm. Shaken, I sat for a moment, then collected my courage to stand again between the surges. The sensation of being lifted off the floor by the ship’s movement is astonishing. I rested for a bit, had some M&Ms and water, and then tried to get some rest in my bunk. Despite the rolling, I secretly love it—it’s thrilling yet safe in its own way.
Sleeping in the cabin, rocked by the ship, is uniquely comforting. My cabin mate Chantal and I were both impressed by the noise and power of the waves. Earlier, she had taken a tumble too, landing her head against the side of the cabin—fortunately nothing serious.
Throughout the day, different watches passed by, and now we meet again for our watch, with her as helmswoman. After a short nap, duty calls for dinner. Wrestling out of the bunk, I brace myself against the washstand to withstand the intense rolling. Surprise gusts still come, and once again, I barely keep my balance, grabbing a shelf to avoid being thrown around—only to knock over cups and toothbrushes. Chantal enters, and together we burst into laughter over the mess. Tjeerd, the trainee, comes through the watertight door and laughs along, promising to fix the shelf with better screws during dinner.
Up in the day room, our mishap provides entertainment and conversation. Two giggling ladies in their fifties recount the wild events with passion. It’s been quite a day—all under full sail!
Our evening watch starts at 8:00 PM instead of midnight, which I prefer. I carefully make my way to the bridge, fully geared up, and find a stable spot to stand or sit. I skip the fire-and-leak round, luckily someone else covers it. Together with John, I enjoy a drink in the day room, ignoring the noise from the galley. Later, we resume our duties at the helm. Standing there remains exhilarating—a powerful feeling. We keep sailing northward, trying to stay 60 degrees to the wind, occasionally checking the inner bridge.
With that true Eendracht feeling, we end the day happily with some drinks. I’m kindly assisted through the watertight door back to my cabin, exhausted but content, and rocked to sleep by the ship once again. The seas may calm soon, which I secretly look forward to.
Trainee Janet Hage Remmers