Despite the strong hints that Captain D was making (when he could still talk...he and many of the ship's company have the same sore throat- coughing thing going on that we've been dealing with), hope springs eternal and we were still counting on getting into Katakolon today (which, you might recall, was a substitute for Khios). We had booked a ship's excursion to the original Olympic site and set two alarms for 6am to make sure we didn't miss our excursion meeting time. As a result, we were in the Panorama Buffet well before sunrise, drinking coffee and eating breakfast and willing ourselves to wake up (we had plenty of company in that regard). About 6:45am, Captain D started an announcement, telling us he had something so important to tell us that he was going to hand the message he had prepared over to the Staff Captain to read, because Captain D barely had a voice.
We knew what we were about to hear, of course, that Katakolon would be a miss, but Staff went on to tell us that we were in for some wild weather today (though he explained it in terms of cold fronts and depressions) after a night of wild weather last night. By 7am we were crawling back into bed. We didn't know how we would spend the day but were certain that ours wouldn't start again until at least 9am. We saw it all this morning: clouds and rain and constant bounciness. A revised Patter full of activities was quickly published, but walking down our corridor on Deck 4, I saw that most were still in the mail slots and many doors had 'Do Not Disturb' cards in the locks.
Thankfully, we have hours of videos on iDevices and and a Lightning/HDMI adapter and had plenty to keep us entertained while mostly staying down. However, by 12:30pm, I was getting a little hungry...after all, it had been 6 hours since a light breakfast. In the spirit of companionship, G accompanied me to the Panorama Buffet but before he even had selected any food looked at me with a slightly glassy-eyed gaze and told me he was returning to the cabin.
Amazingly, I was unaffected through all this, and chose items such as rice and steamed veggies and chicken breast from the buffet, thinking they would be safest. As soon as I found a place to sit, a man running toward a bathroom made it to about six feet from me and threw up. Even plain rice kind of lost its appeal after that. The area was cordoned off and a hazmat team called and those of us seated nearby were moved to another area and I ended up settling for mint tea and a soft roll. I took some crackers back to G; I knew he had Sprite in the minibar.
The rest of the afternoon was spent alternately sleeping and reading in the cabin. About 5:15pm, Captain D made an announcement (with a voice that was still gravelly but ever so slightly improved) that the next four hours would be the worst, with swells of about 17 feet and Force-something huge gales. But then, he promised, they would all be behind us, these three major storms that have made life fairly miserable of late. 17 feet swells to this little ship are not insignificant and my only hope is that we do not encounter a repeat of them during our transatlantic crossing.
G opted to skip dinner but I was still not seasick and, in fact, was getting pretty hungry. I decided to give dinner a try, but wore the same clothes I'd worn all day and didn't do my usual dinner dress up. Simply getting to our table in the Club Restaurant was a bit of a trick...shuffle three steps backward and then rush five steps forward as the ship rolled side to side. Dear Marco spotted me coming and ran to lend an arm as assistance. And while I had offers to join other tables with people we've met, I opted to dine alone and very quickly and had just one course (scallops) and a baked potato and then scooted out in that same backward-forward way I'd arrived.
Though not everyone felt the same way, of course, the general consensus at dinner seemed to be "Just get us to solid ground, ASAP!" And after being the dining room I had to conclude that this really was the worst combination of seas and small ship that we've ever experienced. Trays of plates were crashing to the floor, bowls on top of charger plates slid from side to side and at times I had to simultaneously hold on to my water glass and the table to keep everything together. This was one of those days when the dining room staff are all heroes. And the medical staff (our cabin is close to the medical center and we can see they have been inundated). But land awaits tomorrow morning, and Captain D has promised us that on the other side of this hell lay calm seas and sunny skies...and very cold temps. We'll take it, all of it.
I could easily have made it to vocalist Philip Brown's 6:45pm show in the Cabaret Lounge but that is not where I needed to be tonight. Instead I returned to the cabin to commiserate with my dear husband and simply nod my head when he repeatedly said, "We are NOT doing this next year!!"
He'll feel differently when we get to the Caribbean. This I know for sure.
Even this rough and rocky life is good. :-)
