I was just talking with Ella the other day about how much more simple life is at sea. Certainly neither of us have been at sea for years and years, but we’ve been gone for a week at a time or so for a few times now. As we were pulling into Bristol a week ago, my mind was set on finding a phone to call my lovely girlfriend Alison and my parents. But I also had this other feeling that I didn’t identify until Ella pointed out: “I wanna go back to sea.” As soon as she said it, I knew I also agreed. Our first mate Paul said it well: “Sailors and ships rot in port”

Kinda like living at my parents house, a few days is okay, but anything approaching a week is simply too long! Life out here is more regimented, more difficult, and you just get used to it. I really do think myself and the crew get used to a polyphasic sleep cycle where we get two decent chunks of sleep a day. We all clean and work often, and are used to working until exhaustion. It feels tiring of course, but sitting in the pub on land – I really feel like I’ve accomplished something and I deserve that cold (or English warm) beer that sitting in front of me. And even that beer is more than just a beer. It’s my little flag of: I’m done for now, and I don’t to be up and working for at least another two hours!

I suppose life is like that isn’t it? If you have to do sucky stuff often, the other not so sucky stuff rises up and becomes awesome. Dude, that’s awesome.

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