Obviously I had some work to do to prepare myself for a row across the Atlantic. Motion sickness, something I thought I had eliminated with my years of flight testing, needed to be solved. What was I to do? There was no way I would allow myself to become a useless human log, becoming a liability and non-contributor in a row that would last a month or more across the Atlantic. I had “Twinkie tested” myself and failed. This is when a coach replaces a suspect rower in a boat with a Twinkie, resting it on the seat, and the remaining crew manages to row faster. It’s on par with-hypothetically-somebody telling you you’re worthless or your first rejection by a girl in grade school….(never happened….honest)….truly one of the most humbling and humiliating experiences.
The first thing I did when I got back to Seattle was talk to my mom. What was the most appropriate way to solve this problem? Before she gave suggestions, she naturally began by telling a story about my one day at the Lynden, Washington Fair. There was a ride called the Gravitron, a large carousel wheel-like apparatus that plastered the rider to the padded back. I thought, “This is what Astronauts do! I can do it.” During the ride back home, still dizzy, pulling into the driveway, I told her I was going to throw up. She slammed on the brakes, leaped out of the car, ran around the back, opened the back seat door, and simultaneously grabbed me, yanking me outward, while yelling “Don’t you dare throw up in my car!” Unfortunately, I was still in the seatbelt. All she managed to do was watch in horror as I threw up all over the inside of the car, as she violently struggled to pull me outside.
After the amusing and humiliating story that had no purpose but to remind me of my innate frailty, she suggested these remedies; a motion sickness patch, ginger, ginger ale, herbal supplements from her naturopathic physician on Bainbridge Island, Dramamine pills, and not rowing (that was the first suggestion). I also purchased some PSI bands from REI in an attempt to use pressure point therapy. And so, in preparation of our most recent attempted row up to Victoria from Tacoma, I put together a package of these items.
Do not use with heavy machinary...however, use with rowboats is okay. It's not like we're going to hit anything out on the ocean...knock on wood.
The doctor suggested I try out the patch a day or two before the actual row, to determine my reaction to the nausea-dampening patch. A well know side effect is drowsiness. Unfortunately, I have been fatigued and drowsy for the past seven months in part because of flight testing. So I couldn’t determine if I was tired because of the patch. However, the next day (I slept through the night in my own bed for the first time in weeks) I felt rejuvenated and no ill effects. The day was mine, at least partially. The big test would come out on Puget Sound.
The day before we began our row I distinctly remember Jordan informing us the weather was expected to be a light Southerly. Our timetable was scheduled around the tides in part to help us meet our timetable and reach Victoria no later than Sunday morning. As Jordan points out in another post, we were surprised with an increasingly strong NORTHERNLY wind, at night reaching Gale force levels (so said the little weather monitor doohickey thingy) and waves reaching 4-8 feet peak to peak. Perfect conditions to try out my new patch!
In the beginning of the row I tried using the PSI bands. Unfortunately, they were worthless as any rower would have known instinctively. With each pull of the oars, the little tab protruding into the space between the tendons of the wrist would be pushed outward by the flexed forearm. The PSI bands were abandoned immediately.
I began to supplement with ginger root after the first 30 minutes of rowing, partially because I wanted to see how raw ginger root would taste, but also because I was nervous the patch wouldn’t do anything for me when I ate while we rowed into rougher water. Using our cheese knife, I cut ginger root the size of a dime, eating a piece each time I ate food during rest shifts. More appropriately, I placed the ginger root on the top of my tongue, and slowly sucked on the piece carefully, trying not to ingest too much of the bitter, burning stuff. The raw root is definitely more potent than the palate cleansing ginger used when eating sushi. The guys all took a taste of the ginger during the evening due to curiosity and my incessant proclamations that “this shit really works!”
Around midnight just after the end of one of Greg’s and my two hour “deadlifting” sessions, slowly dodging the Vashon and Bremerton ferry traffic on the west side of the sound, I retired to the stern cabin for my first full two hour rest. Ignorantly, I snapped off a large piece of ginger root the size of a walnut and began chewing on it, as I curled up and started to doze. A few minutes later, a distinct and usual burning sensation came from behind my tonsils. My eyes bulging, mouth puckered, I clawed for the hatch, lunged out of the stern, grasped the safety line, and threw up twice – right in front of Adam. “Oppp, not again” was his reply.
However, I was certain that it wasn’t nausea. After a few choice words aimed at the water, the ginger, and my stupidity, I climbed back into the cabin, drank some water, and fell asleep. No problems.
One of the most intriguing things I observed during the row was how the human eye can play tricks on the mind. Rowing in place for hours, while making no headway, I used two powerful points of light off Keystone Point as markers for our progress. As our bow lazily, almost imperceptibly shifted toward starboard, it appeared as if we finally were moving north. The two lights would move stern-ward. However, checking five minutes later, as the bow had slowly swung back towards port, it appeared the opposite had happened, and we had lost ground. This played out over two shifts, and almost drove me stark raving mad.
I’d much rather go mad than be incapacitated with motion sickness on the ocean. At least when you’re mad you can have a little fun with yourself. And ultimately, it’s those little things on the ocean that count the most.
Tell us your seasick stories, what works for you and what doesn’t? We would love to hear it.
If you are in town com visit us at the Seattle Boat Show on January 21 -30th, we will have the ocean rowboat James Robert Hanssen for you come and see and touch!
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