Sick as a parrot

Falmouth, 2nd September. 10 AM.

“Everyone starts off feeling a bit sea-sick….”

"It’ll soon pass….”

“You’ll be fine tomorrow……”

Dutch people are nothing if not positive. They are also highly hospitable, enthusiastic and practical. The nine hour sail from Plymouth harbour yesterday began a little choppy. I stayed on deck, strictly adhering to my good wife’s recommendations to keep my eyes focused on the horizon.

Which is all very well until your insides start to turn themselves into outsides. The only practical posture I found was to lie on deck …. But then I couldn’t see the horizon… I must have mumbled it outloud – “Oh yes you can – it comes into view over there” pointed out a kindly lady nearby.

And she was right. Every so often for a micro-second it came into view as the boat lurched up and down like a drunken cow with BSE.

Darwin spent most of his two weeks traveling to Tenerife being sick (See the “Boisterous Weather” post below). I spent last night trying to console myself with the reassuring Dutch words that most people feel just fine on their second day, but always there was the nagging fact that, well, Darwin didn’t. So what if I’m like him? Being sick six times in as many hours is fairly disabling, and by 3pm yesterday I was stricken on my bunk, unable to move any further than the nearby toilet.

But I have convinced myself that things will be different from how is was for Darwin in 1831. The Beagle was only half the size of this majestic ship, the Stad Amsterdam. My cabin is situated nicely in the middle of the boat, lessening the lurches – he was higher p in the poop. And I have drugs – a stronger dose is now being administered by Everhard the ship’s doctor and my newest, best old friend.

By about 8pm yesterday evening we had anchored in the benign harbour at Falmouth. I then rose, as if from the dead, feeling surprisingly human. We even did some filming in the long-room, a group of us, including Sarah Darwin, Charles’ great, great granddaughter, discussing why this voyage is so important, what potential it has to help raise awareness about the planet’s current plight and what can or should be done concerning “the future of species”.

Then blissful sleep as the boat bobbed gently up and down, I have no motion sickness in port. Today, though, there are ominous warnings about conditions at sea. It will be very rough, and our planned departure in two hours time is, rumour has it, to be delayed owing to yet more boisterous weather. And now I hear the captain, ice-cool Richard Slootweg, is about to address us all in the long room….