Our street lights went out, a neighbour’s fence blew over, and there is snow from the Cape mountains to Lesotho. Sometimes when I am in a storm like that with wind so strong you fear the windows might blow in, I think about the storms I experienced in the Southern Ocean on the SAS Agulhas research ship back in the 90s.
I get goose-flesh remembering, and part of me hankers after the thrill of seeing the ship’s bows rise up a wave so high I felt it must surely topple over, and then smack down into the trough with a shudder that reverberated through the vessel, the sea breaking over the bows and smashing right up to the windows of the bridge. I was one of a group of journalists sailing to Antarctica to cover the opening of the SA Antarctic National Expedition’s new research base. None of us had been in the Southern Ocean and about a week out from Cape Town we experienced what we thought was a bad storm. Four of us to a cabin, we giggled nervously as we rolled around in our bunks. The next morning we went onto the bridge to interview the captain. Well, he and his officers just laughed. “Storm? She hardly rolled at all,” said Bob, the captain, showing us the instrument that recorded the ship’s pitch and roll. “Besides, it’s not a real storm until that kettle falls to the floor,” he said, pointing to the coffee station. But on the way back from Antarctica, man, did we hit a real storm, and the ship was a-rockin’ and a-rollin’. The man in charge of the galley showed me the walk-in freezer. The floor was a mass of frozen food rolling around. In the mess we sat at long tables and as the ship rolled, the whole row of chairs – with us on them – slid across the floor, leaving our dinner behind on non-stick mats. It was hysterical. There was a British scientist on board who made out that it was not so bad, he had been in worse. “But it’s hectic!” we chorused, but he just smiled. “I’m going to check with the captain,” and stumbled up to the bridge. Captain Bob confirmed it was a pretty good storm, giving me the figures for pitch and roll, wind speed and average wave height. “Oh – and did the kettle end up on the floor?” I asked. He grinned: “It did.” Ha. I found the British scientist reading in the lounge. “Bob says it is definitely a bad storm,” and read off the stats from my notebook. He sat with his novel open and raised his eyebrows. “And,” I added, thinking this would clinch it, “the kettle ended up on the floor.” He smiled. “Ah,” he replied, “but did it jump or was it pushed?” Ever since that trip I have an enormous respect for sailors, and an intense fascination of the ocean. Jacques Cousteau was so right when he said: “The sea, once it casts its spell, holds one in its net of wonder forever.”
