Cuteness at Sea
A recent ocean-based journey found me, along with my brother, exploring the volcanic island groups of Cape Verde, the Canary Islands, Madeira, and the Azores. What an experience, to be on the waters of the eastern Atlantic Ocean surrounded by two bowls of blue, one below (water) and one domed above (sky). Each offered endlessly changeable hues–a constant treat for the eyes.
For much of the two weeks on the water, we were steaming over (very) deep ocean, sometimes 14,000 feet deep, plus/minus. The mileage impressed me. The 900 miles between Cape Verde and the Canaries took three days, and included crossing the important geographic marker known as the Tropic of Cancer. The 300-mile hop to Madeira was quicker, just a full day. We lingered there for an extra day to avoid being at sea during a large storm. The final distance of 600 miles northwest to the Azores lasted another 2-1/2 days.
I loved being on the water and seeing...nothing. No land. No whales migrating. Almost no pelagic birds. No other ships. Not even aircraft contrails in the sky! Remote places always make me happy. There’s power in the opportunity to remember the Earth as it was before all the buzz and whistle and chaos and confusion of modern life. (Ok, the ship was nicely modern and we were quite comfortable! But I spent a lot of time gazing at the ocean and trying to imagine the stalwart people in wooden sailing ships or worse, held in the holds, navigating their way across expanses such as these for weeks on end.)
Our ship was the relatively small National Geographic ship Orion. On this voyage, there were just 54 passengers. We were grandly pampered by a delightful crew of people, from those on the bridge (which was open to passengers!), to the expert naturalists and photography staff, and everyone in hospitality caring for our creature comforts. Many of these remarkable shipboard crew have dedicated their careers in service specifically to Orion, some since it was placed in service 22 years ago.
I shared a cabin with my brother. For two weeks, we were terrifically spoiled by the care and attention of our Cabin Steward, Merwin Rabara. After the first couple of days, we realized he was also an artist, a sculptor! Every day, when we stopped back at our cabin in the late morning, we found he had worked his magic and left us a surprise: a delightful plush sea turtle, towels, and bed coverlets. We found the little critter in various poses. This endearing toy was thoughtfully (and often humorously) placed in a never-ending display of cuteness.
One day: no turtle! No sculpture! I had a moment of worry–until I poked my head in the one remaining possible place (the bathroom, or, in nautical terms, head). There, in the sink, was our little guy with his friend, a towel+coverlet “crab.” I know others who have received such attention elsewhere, but Merwin won our hearts and gratitude in his ability to make us feel particularly and uniquely welcome and at home. His joy, and ours, was genuine, and, well, sometimes it’s the simple things that one remembers long after a journey is done.
[If it interests you to read my brother’s “take” on the journey, go to his website at sheepdogguides.com/tr/atlan25/atl-itin0.htm]
