![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
Lady: Day 2
Nov. 6th, 2009 07:08 pmHere I am, ensconced on the Lady Washington, at dock in The Dalles, OR at their shaky little "cruise ship dock." It's been an almost overwhelming two days since Dad dropped me off.
Yesterday morning, the boat was in Arlington, OR, 50 miles up the river. I'm being eased into the chores of shipboard life, but the crew has enveloped me already. The very first thing I did aboard was pick a bunk out of those available in the main hold, the room-sized room that servesdouble triple quadruple poly-duty as dorm, galley, dayroom, dining room, gift shop, and meeting room. There are better quarters available forward, in the capacious foc'sle, but I'm a few rungs down the seniority ladder for that. I'll get there. I move one step closer today, with a senior hand leaving.
We each get assigned to a watch, and rotate through projects, steering, or watch, which is when we stare ahead into the wind until our eyes water searching for bouys and floating logs. Half of the way down the river today, I alternated between watch on the bow and scrubbing brass with a tiny scrap of waxed wool.
And then all hands were on deck for the locks, of course. We passed through two of them today, at the John Day Dam and the Dalles Dam. They fall 105 and 80 feet, repectively, and their locks, though smooth, are unnerving. There is the feeling, as the water falls and falls and the walls rises above out mast-top, that you are being lowered into a grave.
The Dalles lock let us out right in front of the town, and so here we are. Some part of the crew is going out to a bar, but I'm staying behind to listen to Carrie (the crewmember who's leaving) read Conan aloud in the foc'sle. My hands are burning from the day's wet rope, and I haven't yet made it up past the futtocks, but I feel good. I'm learning the ropes.
Yesterday morning, the boat was in Arlington, OR, 50 miles up the river. I'm being eased into the chores of shipboard life, but the crew has enveloped me already. The very first thing I did aboard was pick a bunk out of those available in the main hold, the room-sized room that serves
We each get assigned to a watch, and rotate through projects, steering, or watch, which is when we stare ahead into the wind until our eyes water searching for bouys and floating logs. Half of the way down the river today, I alternated between watch on the bow and scrubbing brass with a tiny scrap of waxed wool.
And then all hands were on deck for the locks, of course. We passed through two of them today, at the John Day Dam and the Dalles Dam. They fall 105 and 80 feet, repectively, and their locks, though smooth, are unnerving. There is the feeling, as the water falls and falls and the walls rises above out mast-top, that you are being lowered into a grave.
The Dalles lock let us out right in front of the town, and so here we are. Some part of the crew is going out to a bar, but I'm staying behind to listen to Carrie (the crewmember who's leaving) read Conan aloud in the foc'sle. My hands are burning from the day's wet rope, and I haven't yet made it up past the futtocks, but I feel good. I'm learning the ropes.
