Tendering in rough seas is like something out of a child’s summer day if you’re going with the wind. Meaning that it’s the kind of thing that as a child, you think nothing of, and wonder why exactly your parents are fretting about you sitting in the bow of the speedboat and threatening to tie you to the seat so that you aren’t swept overboard. Tender boats aren’t much more than covered speed boats, though bigger and a little more powerful. Crossing in weather like this, the bow rises clear out the water and slams down into the next wave and huge swaths of salt spray wash out the windows. Rain mixed with sleet plows against the outside of the windows, and all you can hear is the creak of the tender against the waves and the slash of the windshield wipers as they fight to keep the view clear. You barely see the horizon, nothing but slate blue until you pull up at the bright yellow of the dock.
But you don’t feel unsafe. The town itself is a lovely little place, with a huge statue of a whale tail that greets you as you fight your way up the dock through the rain, and lovely quiet streets stretching in every direction. I can’t say I went beyond the terminal souvenir shop however, the weather was not really in my favour and I was freezing after the tender ride. One more patch purchased for my laptop bag (on which I am running out of room), and I was heading back to my floating home.
The trip back was more treacherous than the trip out. At first it seemed smooth enough, but when we went to pull up alongside the ship the wind changed direction and the wind started to work against us. Suddenly the tender boat began to strain against its ropes, swinging out and slamming against the side of the ship with enough force that you couldn’t keep your feet. It wasn’t safe to stand, and it wasn’t safe to attempt to disembark. Nor could they secure the tender any more strongly than it already was, the waves were too high and the wind too strong. Still, some of us stood, clinging to chairs and hanging onto support poles – until one elderly guest slipped off her chair and hit her head. At that point everyone is ordered to sit down, immediately, medical is called to the tender platform, and the officer who happened to be on board with us is standing bracing himself over said guest so that she doesn’t slide off her chair again. I have to admit I didn’t find out what had happened until later, because I didn’t see it happen, only heard about it, and it was difficult to hear anything over the noise of the wind. But I heard the officer’s voice shout
Does anyone have a towel? Or a blanket? Or something?
In the back of my head I can hear my father’s voice ‘if someone is at risk of going into shock, keep them warm’, and then in the same split second I realize that no one moving. This woman needs help, and no one is moving. So I drop my purse, unzip my big knee-length leather jacket and, clinging to the support pole with one hand, hold it out across the aisle
Here, this might help
Clearly, the sea is not done with us. If one can ever say that she is done with us. She tosses us around like a cork in a bathtub, and we do our best to just continue on with our business.
We rode out the worst of what is said to have been a mammoth storm by overnighting at Punta Arenas – an unplanned change in itinerary. A few other things from here in have been altered, Easter Island has been bumped by a day, Pago Pago has been shortened, and the New Caledonia stop has been cancelled altogether. We are, however, planning to dock in Sydney as scheduled.
Personally, I’m just glad that when we pulled away this morning we seem to have put the worst of the bad weather behind us.