Sampson Boat Co
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Night watch...
🕑 Added 2025-09-01 21:23:44 +0000 UTCThere's no way to describe the feeling of being alone on night-watch while your crew-mates sleep soundly below deck. The weather is fair; the moon is shining through the clouds and onto the sails, and the navigation lights cast a faint glow onto the white tips of the waves that overtake you. The sails are reefed, reducing their size and therefore your speed slightly, but also reducing the chance of needing to wake crew up for a sail-change. The rigging creaks and groans quietly, and the sea is constantly sloshing and splashing against the hull - but despite the noise, the overwhelming feeling is one of calmness.
Every now and then you go below for a few minutes, into the red glow of the night-lights; you check the navigational chart and perhaps the radar. Maybe you have time to put the kettle on and grab a snack, or maybe you put on another layer to keep the night air at bay. On deck you could see the rolling swell coming in the moonlight, but down here you can't predict the movement of the boat so well - you have to be careful to hold onto whatever you can as you move around.
Back on deck, as the end of your watch approaches, you see some movement from down below - the next watch-keeper is up already, so you don't have to wake them. A few long minutes pass (these are the coldest minutes of the night) before a bundled head appears in the companionway hatch, and then climbs into the cockpit to join you. You exchange a few words about the conditions, the sails, and the wildlife, and then - when you are sure they are alert and awake - you climb down the ladder and begin the process of removing your many layers of clothing. Finally you crawl into a warm bunk and get comfortable. You have to wedge yourself against the inside of the frames to stop your body from rolling around, but you are grateful for the comfort and warmth, and soon fall into a deep sleep.
Comments
Paul Thomas
Beautifully done and so on-point. Seems like you had overcast skies, so you missed describing the part about the brilliant, star-filled sky, so bright it almost hurts your night-vision eyes to look at it. Hope we get to see you in Newport, RI when you get to the other side.
Simon and Avon Lookmire
Its a beautiful feeling, missed when you come ashore. Thanks Leo, you nailed it.
Ian Rose
Beautifully written, I can almost feel the warmth of the tiller in my hand, the smell of the sea and the gentle roll of the boat under me.
