Saturday, 20 February 1999
As of 0800, the Empire State was located at 42 degrees 01.9 minutes North latitude and 070 degrees and 08.2 minutes West longitude, at anchor, anchorage "H" Provincetown Harbor of Refuge. Provincetown, Massachusetts is 2.5 nm to the north. The air temperature is 38 degrees F. Water temperature is 48 degrees. The skies are partly cloudy. Winds are out of the North -Northeast at 22 knots with a sea state of 3 (4 feet). Water depth is 68 feet. Barometric pressure is 1009 millibars and steady.
CAPTAIN'S LOG:
Since anchoring yesterday morning, we have experienced a variable weather pattern but the wind has been steadily blowing from the North-Northeast and gradually increasing in force. Weather is the topic of" small talk" on land; something used to prime the pump of conversation. But weather prediction is crucial to safety at sea, life revolves around it. Weather determines if you eat hot food for dinner, sleep at night, or arrive at your destination on time... if at all.
Since departing Miami, my cabin has become the receptor for huge quantities of weather maps, reports, and raw meteorological data used to track potential Nor'easters that could threaten the homecoming. The sheer tonnage of charts, duplicator paper, and e mail reports threaten to push me out. It's my fault. I am a weather junkie, always anxious for the next report, whether at sea and at home. I watch everything until I suffer from data overload. Then, just like the professionals, I guess about what is going to happen.
We guessed right this time. Today, Empire State remains on the hook, just off Provincetown, protected from the ferocity of a coastal storm moving out to sea south of us. Notice, I did not use the phrase, popular with many TV meteorologists, "harmlessly out to sea". For mariners, that phrase strikes like fingernails on a blackboard. It generates visions of shipmates holding on for dear life as their ships, unable to escape the wrath and fury of the sea, are pummeled by the storm and mountainous waves. Harmlessly out to sea? We don't think so.
To be prudent, we build an extra day into the Sea Term schedule to allow for delay caused by rough seas between Hatteras and Nantucket Shoals. It was unnecessary this time as we flew up the coast on flat calm seas, pushed by a generous tail wind, and the powerful Gulf Stream. We arrived in Cape Cod Bay 24 hours early. Fortuitous, because two low pressure areas merged into a powerful coastal storm yesterday, that brought gale force winds and 15 foot seas to the waters we had just sailed. Anchoring off Provincetown, huddled under the protective fist of the outer arm of the Cape, minimizes the ship's motion and makes our stay more comfortable.
"Anticipation, is just keepin' me waitin'." Carley Simon must have written those lyrics while on board a ship, anchored in the Bay, waiting to go home. They describe the downside; we are so close to land that we can see cars moving on Route 6, smell pitch pine in the air, and listen to favorite radio stations. It is relatively easy to keep 450 cadets productively occupied when the ship is moving. On the Bridge, three shifts of 20 cadets stand 4-hour watches as lookouts, helmsman, navigator, and officer of the deck. With the ship at anchor, work is reduced to simply verifying that we aren't dragging anchor. It is even worse in the engine room with the main engines secured. The boilers that normally power main propulsion engines are used only for "hotel" services (light, heat, water).
Rumor and gossip are currency for trade on any ship but one with over 500 people and idle hands make those coins of the realm even more valuable. Rumors run rampant while at anchor. Some 1/C Cadets started a particularly cruel rumor, yesterday. They told several gullible freshmen that, because of forecasted high winds, the ship would wait until Monday or perhaps Tuesday, before going in. The effect was instantaneous and like cutting their hearts out with a spoon! "Oh-no-what-il-we-do?" wailed upward from the freshman-berthing compartment. It took most of the day to quell that one and some of the freshmen's eyes are still the size of saucers.
Well folks, Sea Term 99 is nearly over. One day and a wake up! We will enter the eastern end of the Cape Cod Canal at noon Sunday and tie up on time, at 1317 (1:17 PM ). Please, come out to see us. See you tomorrow.