Kim "all for me grog" Stebbens; Noble captain and head DJ of
"radio free Hurricane". Kim struck me as a responsible, knowledgeable, (very)
soft spoken fellow before we left the dock. But out at sea he's a responsible,
knowledgeable, MADMAN. Alternates his time between midnight mast gymnastics, emergency
cocktail hour drills, trying to keep ALL salt off the boat (even for cooking!), and
self-psycho-analyzing by trying to decipher the Rorschach tests which keep coming out of
the weather fax. Occassionally he ties on his samurai headband, unsheathe his toolbox, and
dives headfirst into the starboard lazarette to do battle with "Blackthorne",
the autopilot. But by far his most insidiously evil trait is his passion for increasing
the "Ariel index" (how many times you've thought of any "Little
Mermaid" related item in a day) aboard by playing the "Little Mermaid"
soundtrack and party albums, attacking sleeping crew with the "Sebastian" puppet
and falsifying charts to include the "Flounder Seamount.", etc. We're not sure
what he does up in the v-berth at all hours, but his tousled appearance after these
sessions has us wondering if there isn't a sixth crew aboard . . .
Brad "Fishmeister" McNeill: Master fisherman, maintenance diver.
Though we have long since seen through his thin cover story of being a music teacher (he
stubbornly insists all classical music is Bach), Brad has distinguished himself as the
ship's fishing master, sparing no lure, line or hooks to bring in a Mahi-Mahi, an
albacore, and the rare and coveted "champagne-bottlefish," all of which he has
cooked with great skill and aplomb. When we want to ensure a quick watch change we know we
can get Brad on deck fully dressed in less than 20 seconds with the two simple words
"FISH ON." Brad is the only crew member undaunted by swimming in our
increasingly Northern latitudes, and has gone so far as to drop fishing net over the bow
to foul the prop just to get the opportunity to take another dip. An accomplished platform
diver, he has all but mastered the patented "Brad McNeill Bow-Pulpit
Butt-Bounce." After reading "The Perfect Storm", he spent an inordinate
amount of time last week sitting on an ice-pack on the life raft. Brad now spends
virtually all of his waking hours hanging naked off the swim platform with a gaff hook in
one hand calling out "heeeeere fishy-fishy-fishy . . ."
Tim "how do you spell locquacious?" Flanagan: spinnaker pole cowboy,
master storyteller, bluewater dinosaur rescue. Tim claims he works as a professional
writer - and we believe him. Despite his obvious aversion to direct sunlight, Tim takes
top honours as the valuable crew who ensures none of us ever get lonely. Whether reading
to the off watch crew, regaling us with stories of past adventures, or sending his
(blatantly falsified) log reports to his mailing list, Tim stands out as the great
communicator. I am growing concerned, however, with Tim's growing tendency to spend his
off watch hours in the aft lazarette. He claims it reminds him of where he sleeps ashore.
While he is prompt to answer his call to watch, he insists that we address him now as
"Lord Tim", and responds to the high pitched chirps of the little black bat-like
birds which follow the boat in increasing numbers with "Yes! Sing to me, my children
of the night!"
"Motoring" Matt Squires: Calmer of wind, invoker of diesels,
quartermaster, ship's chaplain, master navigator. Matt suffers the incredibly stressful
life of a 27-year-old retiree. His mellow demeanor has an incredibly calming effect on the
wind, which may explain his mastery of current-based sailing. His propensity for extremely
s-l-o-w sailing may explain his remarkable skills as the ship's quartermaster. He spends
his watch hours seeking the counter-current, and his off watch hours perfecting his
techniques in celestial navigation, which he insists may be useful if his GPS fails on a
clear night on the sound (probability: 0.00001%). He serves as our spiritual leader,
reading from the gospel of rum at each emergency cocktail hour drill. Matt's tendency to
strangle stuffed dogs when off watch has me convinced that there are much deeper neuroses
here, which we all hope will stay buried until we make port.
Alex "Galley Slave" Weinert: short order cook, baker, chief
anesthesiologist, meddler in other people's watches, typer of extremely long emails. A
humble software developer ashore, at sea I have developed an abiding fascination for
gimbaled devices. As only the stove meets this criteria, I have leveraged this fascination
by ensuring that none on the crew goes hungry - or sober. This has given me a fairly
extensive insight into the state of the ship's stores. While being becalmed has severely
depleted many of our supplies I can reasonably certainly say we will not run out of rum or
cheese puffs. While I pretend to read boring technical books when I am being observed, I
have secretly spent many hours altering the ship's electronic and magnetic navigation
devices. My preparations are finally complete, and unbeknownst to the crew, our actual
heading is SSW, and our next stop will be FIJI!
Honorable mention crewmates:
Blackthorne the Autopilot: Despite an initially rocky relationship with our
gallant captain, Blackthorne has proven his worth of late. After the latest round of
discipline, he became somewhat sullen and refused to speak to the crew except in Cyrillic.
After a recent surgery by Kim, however, Blackthorne has seen the error of his ways and is
back to his old cheerful self.
Scamp the dinosaur: Scamp is constantly getting into trouble aboard the
Hurricane, and his caretaker Tim has become quite adept at extracting him. Tim is having
some difficulty explaining the "Snert-gate" incident which took place in the
v-berth a few days ago.
Snert the dog: Just before Matt goes to sleep each evening, Snert takes a VERY
deep breath in preparation for the strangulation to follow. Despite this maltreatment
Snert remains remarkably good natured and mellow, possibly of the result of not knowing
any other way of being treated. This may change drastically, however, following the
significant education he received from scamp in the v-berth.
Seriously though, its a hell of a group, and I must say that this is without a doubt
the finest crew I've ever done an offshore passage with. Really. Despite my previous
bluewater experiences, I have never before had the honour of crewing with this caliber of
sailors on a bluewater passage. No, really, I mean it - Never.
