Have you ever made a colossal or colossally-embarrassing mistake in front of people and then tried to downplay it to save face? I feel like that's a pretty common human reaction. At least it is for me. I've had many an awkward, red-faced conversation with strangers and loved ones alike as I lie to their faces no, really, I'm fine. I meant to fall out of that swing and rip a hole in my shorts while giving myself a super wedgie on our first date. (that actually happened, PS. And yes, I actually tried to pass it off as intentional instead of just sucking it up and admitting I'm a klutz.)

That's why I can totally appreciate this navigator's attempt to downplay his rather sizable error on the race course. Although if I were him, I would definitely have made a bigger deal out of the fact that I survived:

"You okay?"
"Yeah we're good." 

Nothin' to see here, folks!


North to Alaska! Part 5

Part 1
Part 2
Part 3
Part 4

We'd had enough fun on my Alaska excursion, and now it was time to actually work. The crew was scheduled for a 30(-ish?) hour opening, and I was coming along for the ride. I'd even purchased a temporary commercial fishing license and pulled some over-sized oilskins in the hopes that I would fake my way through a set or two and get the full experience without killing myself or falling overboard. The license wasn't terribly expensive, but it was required for me to go out with the boat since the Coast Guard would be pretty pissed off if they decided to stop us for an inspection and some random unlicensed dude was on board. Like I said, Alaska regulates their fisheries pretty fiercely.

We set off towards the fishing grounds and I started popping Bonine, which is supposed to fight off sea-sickness without the sleepy side effects of dramamine. I'm not usually prone to bouts of motion sickness, but I'd never been on the open ocean before and we were sailing into, as the crew put it, "a bit of weather," so I wasn't feeling super awesome. But everyone assured me that sea sickness was nothing to be embarrassed about, that everyone on the boat got it at least a couple times a season, and I should feel free to vomit on the deck of the boat and let the seawater splashing over the rail take care of things.

Unfortunately, I wouldn't even make it out to the deck.

I did manage to get some photos from the wheelhouse, though.


Diary of Descent - March


March 1
Good a time as any to update, I guess. Holed up in a strip mall across from the county hospital. I tried to keep an eye out for James and Val, but if all the attention I got from the uglies out there is any indication, they probably heard me coming a mile away and hid. Still, based on the crude maps I found there, the hospital was a point of interest for them. Hopefully they come by soon.

I wish I could get some practice in with these guns. I've never really had one before, and I don't want every time I use them to be as up-close-and-personal as they have been so far. Some target practice would go a long way, but I'm worried the noise might scare off James and attract more of those goons my way.

March 1
Lights on in the hospital. Looks to be the fifth floor. Probably on its own generator or something. Definitely didn't notice those before tonight. Stupid to think they wouldn't sneak around me; it's too big a building for one person to cover.

Now I'm debating whether I should go in there or wait until morning.

Forget it. This area is not exactly friendly with all the runners and crawlers I've seen roaming around. I'm gonna sit tight and see if I can figure out who's there.

March 2
Lights never went out last night. I'm taking the handgun and the machete. Stashing most of my gear and food in the ceiling tiles.

Hopefully I make it back to update this.