Voyage: On Smells

During my fifth day at sea, I began to miss something that I had taken for granted – odors. Let me explain. I am not talking about the smell of athletes foot or the stink of rotten trash. Rather, the Earth itself gives off a smell that is noticeable only when it is missing. Here on the ocean, there are no trees giving off fresh oxygen, no moist soil giving off the smell of a fresh garden, no animals giving off odor to either attract mates or to keep away predators. Here on the ocean, there is a characteristic lack of any smell.

In addition, the water we drink is distilled sea water. It has gone through the most stringent of a filtering system that takes out any and all contaminants that may exist in it. In effect, it is tasteless, without any of the common minerals and nutrients that we associate with tap water. As the days went by, I began to have a longing for mealtime, and I realized that it was not only because of the nourishment, but because the mess hall smelled different. To be precisely, the mess hall had a smell, a familiar smell that broke the monotony from the lack of it.

Imagine my surprise then, when, on a round of the deck of the ship, I came across the Filipino crew roasting a suckling pig on spit. Now, I knew that Saturdays were barbeque days, but I had no idea that meant a whole pig. It looked very happy and content, but probably not very comfortable since its rib cage was cut open and all of its innards removed. The smell of salted meat permeated the entire stern. The entire crew was there, relaxing and having a party. Pretty soon, one of them hands me a beer and we sat there shooting the breeze.

Apparently the pig is something of a tradition. It usually happens on ocean crossings, and apparently is common enough that stores at ports sell whole pigs. In fact, one of the crew mentioned that he had never been on a ship that did not have this tradition. I took a look off the stern and spotted another freighter off in the distance going in the other direction. I could imagine that, on the stern of the other vessel, a group of Filipino drinking beer, roasting a pig and giving a toast to the universal seaman’s barbeque.

Two hours later, I was sitting on the wing of the Bridge overlooking the water. The sun was setting behind us, the speakers were blasting techno music, and the alcohol flowed freely. All of the people on board the vessel were there, officers, engineers, cadets and able-bodied men. The chief engineer grilled the sausages and the captain made his special pesto sauce. We milled around, laughing, sharing stories, and having a great time. There was even a whale sighting off the starboard side. For a moment, you drowned out the constant rumbling of the motor and could forget that you were on a vessel going full speed across the Atlantic.

The barbeque was a welcomed distraction from the daily routine. Today, we were people enjoying good food, good beer and good company. Tomorrow, we would be back to being seafaring voyagers and void of any smells.