Lung collapsing

November 24th, 2015
Day 2 aboard Elwing
Anchored @ Sailor's Rest
Patterson Inlet, Stewart Island, New Zealand

Today I awoke to a full bladder and a heavily rocking boat, with gusts of wind so loud that it was again difficult for me to decipher the noises coming from mother nature and those coming from my skipper. I was recently coherent probably around one hour from his approximated wake time to take our morning swim/bath in the salty, freezing cold, sea. I moved open my curtain a bit to peak out and see if Arthur had already gone but awkwardly saw his head at the end of the bed. It surprised me because I had chosen to lay the opposite direction in my quarters, so I was expecting just the end of the bed, maybe some feet. Eeeeps. Sorry! I tucked back into my cubby and left my curtain halfway open, figuring he'd peak in before she snuck out, or I'd hear him. Neither happened. But I think the moving shadows and a tiny plop in the water gave him away eventually. But the next time I peered around the corner to the "hallway" in between our "rooms" I got s fully clothed skipper, braiding his wet hair, fresh in his jumper...errr overalls. A jumper is a sweater here.

Quickly gathering clean dry clothes into my small torquoise Osprey dry bag - the same one I used to hall my warm and snuggled down to the water's edge while on the JMT, I pulled the curtain across all the way to shimmy into my favorite O'Neil  bikini. (It is the only one I brought on my entire travels, but during this week I quickly felt I should have concocted something more conservative around the kids. I later did my sports bra and Patagonia undies combo but it was a little late by then. Oops.) In reality, I wanted to go out into the water nude, because hey, we were in the middle of no where and there was absolutely no one around, excdpt those on the boat. The combination of 14 & 15 year old boys on board, with parents who'd likely not prefer one of their experiences of this trip be seeing their first naked woman in person, and also an older boss who'd I'd rather not have that visual of me, I did not hesitate to through on the bikini.

The water was - lung collapsing. Breath halting. Numbing doesn't even begin to describe it. My huffs of shallow air, struggling to exit and and enter my lungs was frightening mostly to the echo in my ears - this does not sound right. I tried to call and regulate, and move my limbs enough to "wash" i.e. scrub with my bare hands my face, pits, chest and nether regions. Then, after more than an hour of waiting for this epic moment of release, I finally was allotted my chance to urinate. But, nothing was happening. I mean, I had to mentally focus just to breath properly. I've never had to put so much effort into a wee.

The instant that task was complete I immediately emerged from the salty soup, smiling to the skipper while staying, "pretty sure that's the coldest water I've ever been in." He responded with a smirk, "yeah, it's fresh aye?" He went below he deck to likely give me some privacy to change and also, I was hoping, to make us up a brew (i.e. a cuppa, i.e. a coffee).
...
Funny story actually, yesterday around 5pm, once we'd anchored at our bay for the night, he asked, "should we have a brew." Maybe it was while we were still at the mooring and hadn't yet started steaming towards our destination. Regardless, I paused, jaw dropped, because I thought he was asking if I wanted a beer. I immediately explained this to him and that any American would understand him the same way. He thought it was an accent issue. Nope, just the terminology, just the slang. The accents are pretty dang easy nowadays. Except for the kids - the kids mumble and talk fast and don't ask for your attention before speaking or make eye contact. But everyone else, the slang makes it feel like you're listening to an actual foreign language sometime. A different world for almost everything!

Facing the back of the boat, in the little protected area behind the wheel, I started toweling off. I was surprisingly warm. My skin was bright red and I had goosebumps in every inch, but my breathing was totally normal and there was zero shivering. Facing the bush bare chested, throwing on my favorite blue C9 sports bra from Target (worn on every backpacking trip I've done in the last year and a half), my pre-JMT matching Patagonia full bottom undies, grey O'Neil quick dry pants, and maroon Old Navy thermal long sleeve shirt, later adding my Botlerock Napa Valley t-shirt over. Crawling down the ladder to my bedroom with a huge grin, a clean body, and a fdelig of peace, I dried and cleaned my feet with the outside of my blue-ish REI wool socks that I sore all day yesterday, that have since been hanging to get to a decently dry state, slipped on my new Navy blue wool and possum socks, switched from my buff beanie - that I was used to keep my two braids safe from being sopping wet when I got in the ocean - into my beloved North Face grey and torquoise crochet wooly. Just as I slipped on my newest gift to my usually freezing cold body - my dark torquoise Arcteryx mid-layer jacket - a hot cuppa brew was handed to me...in bed. Awesome.