The 1812 American Privateer Schooner Lynx departed the Newport Sea Base for the big island of Hawaii at 1030 hours, 16 June 2004. On this voyage, the Lynx was manned by her professional crew in addition to five high school student crew members. This voyage represents the third annual Cruise of Opportunity to the Hawaiian Islands by the Lynx with student crew aboard. This year’s student crew were:

Alex Heiney, Laguna Beach, CA
Helen Braswell, Longmont, CO
Jorge Alvarez, Costa Mesa, CA
Karafaye Buffa, Huntington Beach, CA
McKenzie Lewis, Happy Valley, OR

This was not a cruise ship voyage for the students. They were working crew members and as such shared all the responsibilities of the professional crew. Under the watchful eye of the captain and crew of the Lynx, the students learned helmsmanship, navigation, emergency procedures, tall-ship maintenance, watch standing, and most importantly, how to work as a cohesive, responsible team.

While on board the Lynx, each student kept a journal to record their daily experiences. After undergoing a creative writing workshop, each student was required to write a polished journal entry about a specific aspect of their time at sea.

Every night I am awoke by a crew member. “It’s time for watch,” they say. “I am up, I’ll be there in five minutes,” I reluctantly reply.

I get up, put on my clothes and my safety harness. Still half asleep, I walk on deck. Every night I ponder over how we are out in the middle of the ocean and eight or so people are awake at all hours of the night. I walk to the helm and my watch officer asks me to relieve “bow watch.” I slowly inch my way around the moon-lit deck, dodging steps and ropes that could send me off my feet. Someone is always standing there, gazing at the dark horizon, looking for any other life forms besides us. “Here to relieve you,” I say. “Nothing’s going on, no ships, no whales,” they reply and slip back into the dark to go to bed. Every night I try something new to keep myself awake, sometimes push-ups, singing, or I’ll play mind games. This night I was wide awake so I leaned on the edge and became hypnotized by the glowing algae (bioluminescence).

Every carve of the ship going through the water brings radiant rays of light from the ocean life. Every two or three minutes I stare up at the horizon, looking for anything that could disturb our passage. I begin to feel thirsty so I quickly dash into the galley, make some nice hot chocolate, grab the cookies which were left for the midnight snack and go back to the bow. I feel a sense of relief as I stow the hot chocolate in my hands. I slowly sip at it and nibble at my cookie when the sky begins to clear. Millions of stars peek at me. I am probably the farthest away from anything I have and will ever be. Forty minutes have gone by and my hour is almost finished.

- Mckenzie Lewis

You can have an array of experiences on a ship such as the Lynx, and I consider going aloft one of the best ones. It’s easy to forget the life you lived on land as you climb to the futtock shrouds, to become enveloped in how high up you are, how easy it would be to fall, and how cool it is. While on the footrope of the top yard, the highest point on the boat, you lose yourself in the beauty of the sea and all the life it nurtures, and if you are lucky, you might just catch a glorious sunset.

While on the rigging, it is not you who is in control, but the boat. You move with the boat, you do not cause the boat to move. If the boat hits a sudden swell, it is the boat that provides something to hold onto as you sway back and forth, as if you were riding a merciful yet powerful bull at the rodeo.

It feels good to get back on deck once you climb to the top, not because you are glad to be on solid ground, but rather you feel proud to have accomplished such a unique and dangerous feat. I feel going aloft is an experience everyone should get a taste of some time in their life.

- Alex Heiney

The excitement of going aloft is amazing. The highest I had ever been on a moving boat was when I was hoisted on a Cal 40 in a boatswain’s chair, which is similar to a seat harness. As I tightened the harness, I thought for a second about the risks I would be taking but I realized it would be worth it. I have never been afraid of heights, but when you are trying to be cautious while climbing the shrouds, which are lines that are leading from the top of the mast to the side of the boat,it is quite difficult when the people above and below you are shaking the steps you are depending on.

On the main mast you see baggy wrinkle which is a shaggy form that looks like a dead cat at first, but as you look closer you notice that it is a bunch of strands of line bunched together. The mast is at a slant and as you climb it feels as if all your weight is on one side and you are going to fall. Once you get to the top of the narrowing shrouds it feels as though you are going to miss a step, while at the same time it seems like a success because you made it that far.

As soon as you reach the cross trees and maneuver yourself into a comfortable position, the view is spectacular. No matter what direction you look, you see sky and water… a lot of water. The ocean is much larger than it already looks, just imagine what it looks like 80-90 feet higher. While I’m aloft I wonder about what is beneath the surface of the water and how deep the ocean is.

When you are climbing aloft on the fore mast it is a little more stable than when you are climbing aloft on the wide shrouds of the main mast. It was awesome seeing a pod of dolphins swimming in a synchronized way from an aerial view. When you approach the top you have to do a rather tricky move if you want to go any higher than you already are. You have to climb around the futtock shrouds which requires you to climb at a slant with your back facing the water. Once you reach the top you stretch your leg out onto the footrope and clip your harness in. As you sway back and forth, you see the boat rocking below you, and as it rolls over the swell you feel the roll almost ten times more than when your feet are on the deck. The further you climb out the yard arm, the more adventurous it is. While you are balancing on the foot ropes you can see the direction the ocean is moving in as you move with the powerful swells. How many people can say they climbed 90 feet on a moving boat in the middle of the Pacific Ocean and were higher than birds?

- Karafaye Buffa

At around 7:30 he heard the soft voice and steps of Helen coming down the hard wooden ladder saying, “we caught a fish.” When his warm ear heard these words, his sleepy eyes opened as quickly as a gunshot.

He got up, took his green, warm blanket off his body that was still half-asleep, but excited to see the fish. He didn’t care about how the weather was outside even though the night before it was fresh with warm wind. A little sprinkle in the warm air had hit his little brown face during night watch. He got up and grabbed his camera to take a picture of the first fish he had seen in the Pacific Ocean. He ran as quickly as lightning striking to the deck where he saw the fish surrounded by blood; it was the first fish his light brown eyes had ever seen before. The first thing that caught his sight was the blue and green skin that ran all the way through the fish’s body and the size of the fish.

This moment was so special to him, almost like the first time you walk into a toy store. Water and the fish’s red blood ran down the deck and Capt. Doug and Jared were so calm like nothing was happening. The shiny skin of the fish reflected in Jared’s eyes when Capt. Doug poured cold, salty ocean water onto the soft skin of the fish to clean his blood. Capt. Doug started to cut the skin of the fish and tear it off with his hands like it was an orange. The face of Jared was so amazed that we had caught a fish, the first in 10 days. It was so incredible. You could imagine Jared’s face was full of joy when he heard that we had caught a fish, the same way the little boy’s face was when he saw the fish.

The way that everyone was talking about having fish for dinner made the little boy so happy and hungry. As Capt. Doug was taking the last piece of skin off the fish he asked what kind of fish it was and Jared said it was a dolphin fish, also known as Mahi Mahi, something the boy had never heard of.

- Jorge Alvarez

My eyes flutter close as I listen to the waves splash up against the ship while lying in my assigned bunk. A deep sleep falls and the dreams begin. That is when someone in the dream starts repeating my name over and over: “Helen, Helen, Helen…” My eyes pop open with the sudden realization that night watch has come. There is no choice but to switch on the light and get ready.

The first few nights offshore are cold and dark, but the ocean life off the side of the boat is animated. Looking up at the dark sky as I climb out of the hatch, I scan for stars peeping through clouds. Seeing none I continue edging my way cautiously across the deck to the helm.

Before sitting, however, I glance quickly over the side, and a bright blue light catches my eye. Bio-luminescence surrounds the boat, giving it a breath-taking glow. There is a faint clicking sound that we decipher as dolphins and just then they leap from the water with a gentle splash.

Each dolphin has its own special glow as they swim through the water. I see the trail they leave behind and stare over the side until the bio-luminescence settles again. Though the sky is dark with no moon and no stars, the ocean is lit up in a whole new light.

Nights like this continue on for the next few days when suddenly one night the clouds disappear. The sky is now lit up with the moon and stars we are not accustomed to seeing. But just as the clouds leave so does the light of the ocean. While the sky was dark, the sea gave us company and a light to steer by. Now that our natural map has returned and we have an alternative light, the ocean light leaves until a more cloudy night.

For two weeks we are comforted by the lights of nature, but deep within ourselves is a calling for land and with that calling comes the lights of the land. Soon we will be overtaken yet again by a speck faraway and as we get closer the lights become plentiful and bright.

We were never alone on this vast, vast ocean. We have been guests to many creatures and by doing so they give us light. They give the comfort of not being alone for thousands of miles.

Sighing with tiredness from the four hour watch, I climb back into my bunk. My eyelids close again, only this time I see dolphins making trails of light in my mind and sleep falls.

- Helen Braswell