Posted: Sat, Jun 13, 2015
Location: The Atlantic Ocean
Early in the spring of 2009, famed Philadelphia sportscaster Harry Kalas passed away. For decades he had been the voice of our victories, and the sounds that consoled us in defeat. For several years after his passing, the Phillies, Philadelphia’s baseball team, played a video of Kalas after each win. The video showed Kalas at an event, full band behind him, singing a single verse from a song. I’d like to share part of the lyrics with you now.
(Note: I cannot confirm the validity of these lyrics, they are how I personally remember them)
Once there was a little old ant
Thought he’d move a rubber tree plant
Everyone knows an ant
Move a rubber tree plant but he had
He had high apple pie in the sky hopes
I’ve been tasked with recounting today’s events in this blog post. I find that quite difficult because the concept of “days” does not hold up while under passage. There is only the passage. We’ve avoided several storms so far today (although as I’m typing this, it appears to be raining outside), learned boat safety in one of our two courses, and enjoyed a delicious meal of curry and impeccable Naan bread. But overall, in describing the events of any given day, it would be more fitting to describe our passage. We’ve had our bumps and bruises so far on this voyage – mostly of the seasick variety. Nearly everyone on board, at one point or another, has had to clip in and empty their bilges overboard. There have been a lucky few of us (myself included) who have managed to avoid doing so, but that does not make us exempt from the overall feeling accompanying seasickness. Yet nobody’s hopes have faltered in the slightest. We are on day three of our passage to the Azores, and our hopes have never been higher. From the moment we set foot aboard Argo we have been happy. We have been friendly, we have been scared, we have been excited, and we have been hopeful. Even in those moments when my crew-mates are bent over the rail, losing a staring contest with the ocean, I have every faith that they remain cheerful and hopeful for what is to come. I mean, come on! We’re setting out to cross an ocean. How could our hopes be anything but high?
(PS: Since this is my only communication to the outside world at the moment, Hi Mom! I love you! Please tell Sarah that I am still alive.)