Reading the news about the cruise ship that was in trouble going through Drake's Passage, on it's way to Antarctica bought back some memories.....
Although I could never afford the $8-10,000 for a one week trip, I've read and dreamed about taking a cruise to Antarctica and working there for a year. The thought of going through Drakes Passage at the tip of Cape Horn fascinates and terrifies me at the same time.
I've been in very high seas, back in 2004. I had signed up for a tour of the Fiord's out of Juneau, Alaska. It was a twelve hour day trip. After cruising about ninety minutes from port, the weather had taken a very nasty turn. The seas were so high, the tour boat that held about seventy passengers, was getting tossed around like a toy. Deck chairs and trash cans were flung overboard as the ship gyrated back and forth, getting slammed by the next wave. All passengers were already inside the small cabin, to avoid the wet salty spray, that stung when it hit your face. Most had their heads buried in there arms, folded on the tables. I kept thinking to myself, it must be this "very" young Captains first adventure taking the controls of the ship. He seemed to be getting hit from the side by each of the waves. I later learned he was very experienced. The unpredictable turbulence of the Alaskan waters is very real.
The plastic deck chair that I was sitting in would come off the deck about 6-8" every time the ship slammed down into the next troth. I'm always up for a great adventure, and didn't want to miss the excitement and enjoyed the adrenalin rush. There was only one young man and myself out on the deck. His fiance and the rest of the passengers were inside. There were so many people getting sick in the small salon, yuck. Who would want to miss the raging seas, the howling wind, and be inside with all the retching? Not me!
At this point, the captain announced, "if" we could make it another hour or so, we would be through the worst of it. There seemed to be no worry and there was no call for life jackets. Another thirty minutes went by....suddenly, the ship slammed so hard into a huge wave, that I lost my grip on the rail, the chair went flying across the deck with me in it, spread eagle, hoping to grab anything. I thought I was going over the rail. The young man grabbed the arm of my chair as I slid by and I grabbed his arm. His eyes were as wide as saucers, as I'm sure mine were. Somehow, we quickly, wiggled and scooted our chairs back to the center of the ship right by the entrance to the cabin, locked our arms around the rail by the door and sighed a HUGE sigh, then laughed like crazy! In a situation like this, things run through your mind. Was there a chance that the ship might go down as so many in Alaska do? I realized that I wasn't terrified, just excited, and that if I went into the water, so be it. What a way to go, experiencing a fabulous adventure. I thought, this is what it's like for all the sailors and fishermen that work out on the ocean, everyday.
A few minutes later, the captain announced that the seas were about to get rougher. I could hear the people inside screaming in fear, some shouting, NOOOO! Soon, at the terrified bequest of all the passengers inside, the Captain was coming about, and heading back to Juneau.
Although disappointed that we didn't get to the Fiord's, I have to admit, I was relieved that we would NOT be experiencing rougher water. The cruise company refunded the cost of the trip. The weather was pretty bad the rest of the week, so I haven't experienced the Fiord's, YET!
(There were no photos taken on this adventure. I didn't want to risk loosing my camera, so it stayed in my backpack, in the cabin).
Taking the Antarctic cruise and experiencing Drake's Passage is on my Bucket List!
Below is a video link to the cruise ship that was recently in trouble in Drake's Passage.
http://www.usatoday.com/video/index.htm?bctid=703298531001
Remember...Life is not a journey to the grave with the intention of arriving safely in a pretty and well preserved body, but rather to skid in broadside, thoroughly used up, totally worn out, and loudly proclaiming , WOW, WHAT A RIDE!
Sunday, December 12, 2010
Wednesday, October 27, 2010
The Fog 10/27/10
It’s early morning, the light is just breaking. I’m sitting at the table, looking out the front window towards the bay. I’m mesmerized by the dense fog that is sitting low on the water. Across the road, the pine and birch trees that are faded in the fog, line the edge of the water like a gateway to a surreal vastness. The fog has totally obliterated the sight of the water and islands. There is an emptiness.
Looking out the side window the glowing leaves of the deciduous trees, burning yellow, amber, orange and red, shine so brightly it fills my living room like sunshine. Although surrounded by the vibrant colors of the fall leaves, it’s the grey emptiness that holds my attention, it’s calling me like a siren. It’s not a cold empty feeling, it feels warm, as if I’m snuggled in a beautiful wool blanket, to ward off the dampness.. it feels like..... home.
Tuesday, October 19, 2010
I'm tired........
I just moved into a beautiful furnished home with fabulous ocean views for the winter, but the house has a quirk...
10/18/10
I’m tired....
That darn water conditioner! It sits on the backside of my bedroom wall. I’m going to have to do something about that contraption! I’ve looked for the paperwork to change the timer but as of yet, have had no luck.
The tubular tank of steel with a digital control on top, back-washes at 3AM! It sounds like the space shuttle taking off with full booster rockets, and the sound of gushing fire hoses squirting everywhere! When it starts, (third time in ten days), I sit straight up in bed, thinking the house is ready to explode. I jump out of bed, feel my way to the far bedroom door that opens into the bathroom, quickly inching my way around to the left, so as not to fall off the step, (which happened the first night in the house). With hands outstretched, I carefully and quickly feel for the folding louvered doors that fold outward into the bathroom. I slide my hand, left and right, up and down, on the right hand wall for the light switch to illuminate the mechanical room, where the furnace, washer and dryer and the dang water conditioner reside. I flip the switch expecting to see water pouring everywhere and seeing the water conditioner vibrating with flames shooting out of the bottom and expecting lift off out through the roof, any second. My eyes squinting, (no time to find my glasses) adjusting to the bright light and with heart pounding out of my skin, I look, and much to my amazement, everything was as it should be, no water squirting anywhere, the tubular metal water conditioner, sitting in the corner, still making ungodly noises, stationary, and no rocket fuel bursting flames from the base of it. I take a deep breath and wonder..........Who in their right mind, would set the water conditioner to backwash at 3AM!!!!!! The previous tenants? Did they work nights? The company that installed the dang thing (mean joke if they did)? Or, does it just backwash when needed?
Today, I’m tired......after checking for lift off and seeing that all was okay, I went back to bed, but hearing that thing jumble softball size rocks around inside that metal tube for thirty to forty minutes, I was wide awake. 3:45AM, It was time to make coffee, by 6:30AM, I had made a batch of oatmeal cookies, checked my email, took photos of a lobster boat chugging by, the lobster man in his yellow slicker, checking his traps. I ran down the road in my bathrobe and slippers to catch a good photo, between the trees, of a huge tanker heading to Searsport and a beautiful sailboat with red sails, skimming across the beam of sunshine that was just cresting the horizon. By 8AM, I had washed all the windows on the front of the house inside and out and swept the garage........I went to work this afternoon for five hours, came home had a glass of wine and a bag of microwave popcorn for dinner. That's all I could muster.
It’s now, 8PM, I’m absolutely exhausted and heading to bed. If that dang thing goes off again in the morning. I’m grabbing my sleeping bag and heading for the garage!
10/18/10
I’m tired....
That darn water conditioner! It sits on the backside of my bedroom wall. I’m going to have to do something about that contraption! I’ve looked for the paperwork to change the timer but as of yet, have had no luck.
The tubular tank of steel with a digital control on top, back-washes at 3AM! It sounds like the space shuttle taking off with full booster rockets, and the sound of gushing fire hoses squirting everywhere! When it starts, (third time in ten days), I sit straight up in bed, thinking the house is ready to explode. I jump out of bed, feel my way to the far bedroom door that opens into the bathroom, quickly inching my way around to the left, so as not to fall off the step, (which happened the first night in the house). With hands outstretched, I carefully and quickly feel for the folding louvered doors that fold outward into the bathroom. I slide my hand, left and right, up and down, on the right hand wall for the light switch to illuminate the mechanical room, where the furnace, washer and dryer and the dang water conditioner reside. I flip the switch expecting to see water pouring everywhere and seeing the water conditioner vibrating with flames shooting out of the bottom and expecting lift off out through the roof, any second. My eyes squinting, (no time to find my glasses) adjusting to the bright light and with heart pounding out of my skin, I look, and much to my amazement, everything was as it should be, no water squirting anywhere, the tubular metal water conditioner, sitting in the corner, still making ungodly noises, stationary, and no rocket fuel bursting flames from the base of it. I take a deep breath and wonder..........Who in their right mind, would set the water conditioner to backwash at 3AM!!!!!! The previous tenants? Did they work nights? The company that installed the dang thing (mean joke if they did)? Or, does it just backwash when needed?
Today, I’m tired......after checking for lift off and seeing that all was okay, I went back to bed, but hearing that thing jumble softball size rocks around inside that metal tube for thirty to forty minutes, I was wide awake. 3:45AM, It was time to make coffee, by 6:30AM, I had made a batch of oatmeal cookies, checked my email, took photos of a lobster boat chugging by, the lobster man in his yellow slicker, checking his traps. I ran down the road in my bathrobe and slippers to catch a good photo, between the trees, of a huge tanker heading to Searsport and a beautiful sailboat with red sails, skimming across the beam of sunshine that was just cresting the horizon. By 8AM, I had washed all the windows on the front of the house inside and out and swept the garage........I went to work this afternoon for five hours, came home had a glass of wine and a bag of microwave popcorn for dinner. That's all I could muster.
It’s now, 8PM, I’m absolutely exhausted and heading to bed. If that dang thing goes off again in the morning. I’m grabbing my sleeping bag and heading for the garage!
Monday, June 28, 2010
Baked or Fried?
I picked up a part time job waitressing at the diner that’s just a half a mile down the road from where I’m staying in my camper for the summer. Mind you, I’m almost fifty eight years old and it has been a few years since I last waited tables at the Lodge in Alaska.
I trained for two days, doing the morning shift that starts at 6:30AM. The morning shift is perfect for me, as I’m usually awake by 4:30AM and out in the garden.
Prepping for the day, the morning shift is responsible for shredding cabbage and carrots and making dressing for cole slaw, filling catsup and syrup bottles, making tartar sauce, etc.
We wash pots and pans that the cooks have been using to make their soups and specials for the day and carry five gallon buckets of ice from the ice machine in the basement to fill the soda fountain machine. Suffice it to say, carrying heavy buckets up the stairs, then standing on a chair to reach the top of the soda machine and lifting the buckets to pour into the top of the soda machine gives me pause to consider what the heck was I thinking!
The first day was a bit overwhelming, one of the busiest days the restaurant has had in three months. One waitress, and one trainee, a very busy day to say the least. I worked until 3:30PM the first day, totally exhausted and worn out. I did fine and waited tables without incident. When in training you’re not allowed to keep any tips, they all go to the girl training you. Okay, so that’s the rules, I can deal with that. The second day was a bit easier, although I was still exhausted from my first day.
It was now my third day, my first day on my own and able to keep my tips. The other waitress and I took turns taking tables. It was extremely slow. There were the few regulars, coffee and muffin and a few folks in for a full breakfast. It was fine, I actually got to chat with the people for a while and I thought, maybe this wouldn’t be so bad.
One couple came in, they looked very familiar, and I asked where they were from. They said from Clinton, Connecticut, my home town. At the time, the woman worked for the Clinton Recorder, the local paper, and after thirty years we caught up on all the people we knew in common.
The morning went by and it was a nice steady pace. Around 11:15 an older gentleman, maybe in his early seventies, came in, alone. I assumed a farmer, wearing his blue Dickie work clothes. He had a full beard, a dark tan and large hands that showed many years of hard work. I handed him the lunch menu and placed a cup of hot, Green Mountain coffee down on the table in front of him. He looked up at me and asked what the lunch specials were. That’s when the trouble began............
Usually, the lunch specials are printed out by the cook by 10AM, not today. I asked the other waitress if she could print them out, she said no. So, I went to the kitchen and asked the cook. I won’t mention his name, he’s a very tall fellow and in the three days that I had been working, I never saw him smile once. As a matter of fact, he seemed like a very angry man, slamming pots and snarling. Everyone else that works in the restaurant is very pleasant, says excuse me, or behind you, or pardon me, when they walk by you, not this guy, he just huffs by. I asked the grouch, nicely, if he could take a moment and please, print out the lunch specials, that we had a customer that was asking about them. I received no answer, as a matter of fact, he never even acknowledged me. I went back to the table with the elderly gentleman and said that it might be a few minutes, he was fine with that. I then asked the other waitress if she could help. She went to the kitchen and asked the grouch if he would please print out the specials.
He came out, sat at the counter where the computer and cash register are and started to work on the specials. Mind you, it’s a full page of specials, about twenty of them. I felt bad for the gentleman that was waiting and looking over the grouch’s shoulder, I tried to remember the long list of specials, walked back to the farmer, and could only remember two. After two trips, I gave up. The cook got up and walked back to the kitchen. I walked behind the counter and could hear the printer working but no paper was coming out. I read the screen and it said the printer was out of ink! It had been about twenty minutes since this poor man sat down to order his lunch and still no specials. He decided to order from the regular lunch menu. He ordered a large haddock dinner. He mentioned that he only came to the restaurant once every three or four months as a special treat to himself. I asked if he wanted mashed or french fries, and told him the long list of vegetables that he could choose from that I had written on the back of my order pad. Squash was his choice of vegetable and he requested extra tartar sauce. I remembered to put the price on the order ticket and thanked the farmer for his patience.
I walked back to the kitchen, put the order ticket up on the nail for the cook, and said “order up”. I turned and walked back to take care of the other customers. After seven minutes or so, I heard “Mary Ellen”, and walked back to the kitchen, the cook had the farmers order in his hand and asked me “baked or fried?” Oh my goodness, I hadn’t asked the farmer, now I had to go back and ask.
The farmer said, “fried”........now, I was flustered, this poor man had been in the restaurant for over a half an hour and his food still hadn’t been started! I turned and walked back to the kitchen and stared at the cook, who said “Well?”.........Oh no, I had forgot! I couldn’t believe it! He said, “go back and ask him how he wants his haddock cooked, baked or fried.” I was so embarrassed and was starting to shake. I turned and walked back to the farmer with a sheepish look on my face, and apologized profusely, and told him, I had forgotten what he said, baked or fried? He calmly looked at me and said, “fried”. Back to the kitchen and yikes, I drew a complete blank, nothing, not a clue, I had no idea what that man had said to me! I had a brain cramp and couldn’t remember, baked or fried. I turned and went back around the corner, and looked at the farmer, he was staring at me and just mouthed the word “FRIED”. So after an hour of waiting, I finally brought the farmer his lunch. He enjoyed his haddock, and after finishing and walking towards the door to leave, he put his hand on my shoulder and said, “Don’t worry Mary Ellen, your memory will get better”. I thanked him and said no, that it probably wouldn’t but as long as people have a sense of humor about it, and weren’t on a time schedule, we would all be fine. He left me a very generous tip.
I don’t know if I’m cut out for waitressing at this point in my life. I enjoy talking with people and don’t mind the work. It’s my brain that I’m concerned with. Too bad our brains aren’t like computers, that you can clear out the hard drive and reboot. I’ve decided from now on, when I ask, “baked or fried”, I’ll be sure to write it down, even if I have to write it on my hand...........”IF”, I can remember.
I trained for two days, doing the morning shift that starts at 6:30AM. The morning shift is perfect for me, as I’m usually awake by 4:30AM and out in the garden.
Prepping for the day, the morning shift is responsible for shredding cabbage and carrots and making dressing for cole slaw, filling catsup and syrup bottles, making tartar sauce, etc.
We wash pots and pans that the cooks have been using to make their soups and specials for the day and carry five gallon buckets of ice from the ice machine in the basement to fill the soda fountain machine. Suffice it to say, carrying heavy buckets up the stairs, then standing on a chair to reach the top of the soda machine and lifting the buckets to pour into the top of the soda machine gives me pause to consider what the heck was I thinking!
The first day was a bit overwhelming, one of the busiest days the restaurant has had in three months. One waitress, and one trainee, a very busy day to say the least. I worked until 3:30PM the first day, totally exhausted and worn out. I did fine and waited tables without incident. When in training you’re not allowed to keep any tips, they all go to the girl training you. Okay, so that’s the rules, I can deal with that. The second day was a bit easier, although I was still exhausted from my first day.
It was now my third day, my first day on my own and able to keep my tips. The other waitress and I took turns taking tables. It was extremely slow. There were the few regulars, coffee and muffin and a few folks in for a full breakfast. It was fine, I actually got to chat with the people for a while and I thought, maybe this wouldn’t be so bad.
One couple came in, they looked very familiar, and I asked where they were from. They said from Clinton, Connecticut, my home town. At the time, the woman worked for the Clinton Recorder, the local paper, and after thirty years we caught up on all the people we knew in common.
The morning went by and it was a nice steady pace. Around 11:15 an older gentleman, maybe in his early seventies, came in, alone. I assumed a farmer, wearing his blue Dickie work clothes. He had a full beard, a dark tan and large hands that showed many years of hard work. I handed him the lunch menu and placed a cup of hot, Green Mountain coffee down on the table in front of him. He looked up at me and asked what the lunch specials were. That’s when the trouble began............
Usually, the lunch specials are printed out by the cook by 10AM, not today. I asked the other waitress if she could print them out, she said no. So, I went to the kitchen and asked the cook. I won’t mention his name, he’s a very tall fellow and in the three days that I had been working, I never saw him smile once. As a matter of fact, he seemed like a very angry man, slamming pots and snarling. Everyone else that works in the restaurant is very pleasant, says excuse me, or behind you, or pardon me, when they walk by you, not this guy, he just huffs by. I asked the grouch, nicely, if he could take a moment and please, print out the lunch specials, that we had a customer that was asking about them. I received no answer, as a matter of fact, he never even acknowledged me. I went back to the table with the elderly gentleman and said that it might be a few minutes, he was fine with that. I then asked the other waitress if she could help. She went to the kitchen and asked the grouch if he would please print out the specials.
He came out, sat at the counter where the computer and cash register are and started to work on the specials. Mind you, it’s a full page of specials, about twenty of them. I felt bad for the gentleman that was waiting and looking over the grouch’s shoulder, I tried to remember the long list of specials, walked back to the farmer, and could only remember two. After two trips, I gave up. The cook got up and walked back to the kitchen. I walked behind the counter and could hear the printer working but no paper was coming out. I read the screen and it said the printer was out of ink! It had been about twenty minutes since this poor man sat down to order his lunch and still no specials. He decided to order from the regular lunch menu. He ordered a large haddock dinner. He mentioned that he only came to the restaurant once every three or four months as a special treat to himself. I asked if he wanted mashed or french fries, and told him the long list of vegetables that he could choose from that I had written on the back of my order pad. Squash was his choice of vegetable and he requested extra tartar sauce. I remembered to put the price on the order ticket and thanked the farmer for his patience.
I walked back to the kitchen, put the order ticket up on the nail for the cook, and said “order up”. I turned and walked back to take care of the other customers. After seven minutes or so, I heard “Mary Ellen”, and walked back to the kitchen, the cook had the farmers order in his hand and asked me “baked or fried?” Oh my goodness, I hadn’t asked the farmer, now I had to go back and ask.
The farmer said, “fried”........now, I was flustered, this poor man had been in the restaurant for over a half an hour and his food still hadn’t been started! I turned and walked back to the kitchen and stared at the cook, who said “Well?”.........Oh no, I had forgot! I couldn’t believe it! He said, “go back and ask him how he wants his haddock cooked, baked or fried.” I was so embarrassed and was starting to shake. I turned and walked back to the farmer with a sheepish look on my face, and apologized profusely, and told him, I had forgotten what he said, baked or fried? He calmly looked at me and said, “fried”. Back to the kitchen and yikes, I drew a complete blank, nothing, not a clue, I had no idea what that man had said to me! I had a brain cramp and couldn’t remember, baked or fried. I turned and went back around the corner, and looked at the farmer, he was staring at me and just mouthed the word “FRIED”. So after an hour of waiting, I finally brought the farmer his lunch. He enjoyed his haddock, and after finishing and walking towards the door to leave, he put his hand on my shoulder and said, “Don’t worry Mary Ellen, your memory will get better”. I thanked him and said no, that it probably wouldn’t but as long as people have a sense of humor about it, and weren’t on a time schedule, we would all be fine. He left me a very generous tip.
I don’t know if I’m cut out for waitressing at this point in my life. I enjoy talking with people and don’t mind the work. It’s my brain that I’m concerned with. Too bad our brains aren’t like computers, that you can clear out the hard drive and reboot. I’ve decided from now on, when I ask, “baked or fried”, I’ll be sure to write it down, even if I have to write it on my hand...........”IF”, I can remember.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
