Aboard the Morning Star

In the Summer of 1998 I clambered on board the 52 foot ketch the 'Morning Star', docked in Plymouth, to complete a five day sailing adventure for my DOE Gold residential. The next day after a long serious lecture on what to do if sea sick, which we all rather cockily ignored (later to regret it) we set sail in a force 8 south easterly wind against the tide, hoping (vainly as it turned out) to head for France. Our initial reactions of giggling excitement as the waves started to send wreathes of spray over our heads were quickly replaced by faces of a more pallid hue. One by one we succumbed, vomited and were led below, until 3/4 of the crew including two of the three mates were incapaciated. Dragged off to a stern cabin and feeling like a truck had hit me, I first feared I was going to die, than I became frightened that I wasn't going to. After repeatingly vomiting, missing a watch, and screaming to the skipper that I didn't want to go to France after all, and resolving to get out at the next port (which I was told would be more than 12 hours before we reached) I decided to try and salvage some of my collasped dignity and crawled out around midnight to do my night watch. Despite being sick yet again (in the middle of the cockpit much to everyone elses disgust)I could still admire the mysterious beauty of the night around me, with faint stars glowing over head, and the remote lights of the just visible shoreline. Lucky for the Skipper we were all feeling better by the morning and were ravanously eating cake and biscuits on the aft deck when we sailed proudly into Weymouth, as it prevented the mass exodus that might have taken place if we were all still feeling sea sick. (continued on next page)