Southbound in the Southern Ocean

February 20th - Or as some would write it, 2 20 2020

In the Pacific Northwest out on the Olympic Peninsula, we listen to NOAA marine weather. Bill would refer to the voice giving the weather report Herman the German because it sounded sort of like a fake German accent. A lady gave the weather for the southwest Canadian coast and gulf islands.

You get current weather conditions, wind direction and speed in knots, and the height of the ocean swells. “Wind waves two meters eleven seconds,” for example. That means the waves are two meters high and eleven seconds elapses between crests, telling you how far apart the waves are.

I’ve been amusing myself by creating my own weather report, and so can you. First google Beaufort Scale and print it out or put it in your favourites. There’s one for sea and one for land. Consult that for the speed and intensity of the wind.

Now waves. If The Wave is done properly in a baseball stadium, people in one section stand up and sit down. The folks beside them stand up and sit down, then the people beside them and on around the stadium it goes. The wave is moving horizontally but the people are not. They stay in one place, moving vertically. It’s exactly the same with ocean waves only without beer and hotdogs. The water is moving with the current but not with the wind.

So you keep your eye on one particular bit of ocean surface. When it crests, start counting one second, two seconds, three seconds….Do not follow the crest as it moves; stay on the spot. That little spot will slide down into the trough and slide up the other side. When it crests again, stop counting.

NOAA puts out a kind of poster of clouds. Pick the cloud cover that pertains. If it is precipitating, report that. Anything else exciting? Mention it. And there you have it.

Note that all this works best out on the open sea. When you are close to land, the landform changes the nature of water and air patterns, sometimes drastically.

I mentioned yesterday about the heavy seas we experienced that are common in the Southern Ocean. A couple times during dinner last evening, the water sloshed out from under the whole ship at once and it dropped suddenly. Everyone in the dining room said “Woo!” in concert. An unattended wine glass fell and broke; no problem, but the crash and tinkle added to the moment. A steward simply set a chair over the broken glass so people wouldn’t be stepping on it, and everyone continued with what they were doing.

Me? I tanked up on Dramamine and went to bed.

The windstorm abated around four am, but until then it was spectacular. Crests were five to seven meters. The bow wave as the ship moved came up high enough to slosh into my balcony.

I am five decks up.