St. Augustine was recorded as saying, "The world is a book, and those who do not travel read only a page." In that spirit, we continue our series on study abroad experiences that have illuminated Hopkins students.
Our second edition covers a semester spent studying and traveling at sea. If you have also spent time studying abroad and have been inspired by the experience, e-mail us at features@jhunewsletter.com.
I never thought I would have time to study abroad as an undergrad. My commitments made it difficult to consider an absence from work at school. While training for swimming, I was also trying to raise my GPA and complete a research project. However, it was the end of my junior year and I was ready to do something different. Instead of research work and summer training, I decided to spend my time out at sea.
My initial interest in the Woods Hole SEA Semester was the opportunity for adventure and, of course, the life-changing experience that is practically guaranteed upon embarking on a trip abroad.
The trip began with a month in Woods Hole, Mass., where I spent time taking courses in nautical science, oceanography and maritime studies. I wasn't expecting a challenge when I arrived, but I quickly found myself working harder than I ever had at Hopkins.
There were 30 other students from all over the States and Canada participating in the program, and I was the only one from Hopkins. With no TV, bad cell phone reception and students majoring in everything from music to marine geophysics, a month was plenty of time to make some awesome new friends.
We created quite an experience for ourselves while learning about navigation, Coriolis effects and the adventures of Captain Cook. However, my time in Woods Hole was fairly typical of the study abroad experience. The truly unique adventure was out at sea.
After a month of preparations, the trip began. For the next 28 days, my shipmates and I were the fully functional crew of the brigantine SSV Robert C. Seamans. During our trip from Hawaii to San Francisco, we lived in bunks with our belongings and ran the ship in rotating shifts divided between three "watches." We had class every day on the quarterdeck, and each student completed an original research project while at sea.
Writing a paper and conducting experiments in addition to "learning the ropes" was no easy task. The heavy workload at Hopkins had not prepared me for what was to come in the next month.
The significance of our voyage across the Pacific was reflected by the fear of the trip's end before we had even reported for duty in Hawaii. The commitment of our ship's crew was immediately tested by rough seas outside of Oahu. Most of us were already vomiting off the side of the ship, with the exception of a few particularly lucky ones. This seasick feeling was worse than any hangover or illness I've ever had.
For the next few days, I longed to return home to solid ground. The strength and determination of the crew was inspirational, as I watched my shipmates take the helm, vomit over board and then return to the helm. Meanwhile, I could barely stand. When I recovered, I was eager to join in on the ship's duties and help out those that were still buried in the scuppers.
Time went by fast once everyone was in the groove of working aboard a tall ship. We rotated through from dawn watch to mid watch shifts, and we quickly lost track of what day it was or how much sleep we had the "night" before.
This oblivious feeling was only exaggerated by being completely cut off from the world, personal music, news and the Internet. Somehow, after the first week, the world as we knew it fit onto a 134-foot, 280-ton sailing vessel. Our captain knew from experience that this was a major part of our personal journeys.
The trip was very difficult at times. There were nights when I would work on my research paper for hours, and then go to bed only to be woken up a half an hour later for watch duty.
During some shifts, we would be deploying science equipment, and during other shifts we would be running and hauling on lines in the middle of a squall. We also had "field days" every week, where we would clean every part of the ship down to the cracks between the head and the sole. There were times when my shipmates and I would become frustrated and feel defeated, but not a single one of us ever wanted to leave.
From our work in maritime studies we had learned about the toils of life at sea, but we also knew that there were those "and yet" moments that caused people to return to such a life. By the end of the trip, the Robert C. Seamans was full of these moments. Watching porpoises jockey at our bow, standing in the foul breath of a curious humpback whale and climbing to the top of the main mast were all amazing experiences.
The swim calls, the sunsets, the sunrises, sailing under the Golden Gate Bridge, and the infinite numbers of stars in the night sky -- these are the things I hold in my heart, along with the friends that I have made.
I didn't realize the importance of what I had been through until I was waiting to catch my flight home. I returned to the world I left behind where everything was the way it was a month before -- except for one thing. I've decided to return to the sea as a deckhand after graduation in May.
