Durham, NC | 35.9940° N, 78.8986° W | April 29, 2022
As a kid, I watched my dad get ready for work countless times. The routine was always the same: iron the uniform shirt. Pack the homemade snacks. Zip up the roller bag. Put on the hat. Dad’s commute took about a day, and included driving or flying from Wilmington to Raleigh or Charlotte, then catching a flight to Washington Dulles. The next day he would fly a Boeing jet to Europe, Asia, or South America.
Like any good pilot, my old man functioned like a well-oiled machine with an internal checklist and established systems in place. Every object – from his ID badge to his passport to his wallet – went to a particular, designated spot in his bag. Before a trip, he always checked the weather and the “loads”. In his 40-year career, he was never late to work.
I am not nearly as systematic as my dear father, but I often think of him when I’m packing for an expedition. A few things have certainly rubbed off: my passport goes into a specific pocket of my backpack. My wallet goes into another. I always double-check my flight information and the weather.
The biggest difference is my dad would leave for a few days, or maybe a week. He spent most of his time in airports and hotels. When I leave, I’ll be gone for a few weeks, or sometimes a few months. And I spend most of my time on a ship in the middle of the ocean.
The extended duration of my expeditions requires more than just making sure I have my passport. In addition to packing all the essential items, I also need to make time for the people, places, and things I love before I leave for a while. Over the past four years, I’ve developed a few key routines and rituals that help to ease the transition from regular day-to-day life at home to living and working at sea.
Essential sustenance. If I could only bring one of these things, it would be coffee.
Essential technology (and the most important thing — my passport)
In addition to the obvious stuff (camera gear, steel-toed boots, sunscreen, etc.) here are a few “essential” things I always pack:
Coffee
Nuun tablets
Chocolate covered espresso beans
E-reader
Camping pillow
travel yoga mat
A few small travel hacks make all the difference. When I sleep in my bed at home, I build a wall of pillows. When I sleep in a little bunk on the ship, I make do with a small camp pillow and a rolled-up sweatshirt.
When I went to Antarctica, I brought seven books with me. They took up a ton of room in my suitcase and I read all of them within two weeks (that expedition was six weeks long). Needless to say, when my mom gifted me an e-reader for Christmas a few years ago, it was a huge life upgrade. I still love a good paperback, but my e-reader is truly wonderful for travel. Since our internet connectivity is limited at sea, I download books, podcasts, and music ahead of time.
Even when I’m traveling to warm climates (like this expedition in Hawaii) I pack a warm coat and a beanie to wear in the highly air-conditioned rooms on the ship. I also pack lots of workout clothes. I can wear my work pants several days in a row, but my gym shorts get gross fast. Sunglasses and my favorite bright yellow hat are requirements as well.
Check off the to-do list
I brew large pots of coffee and check things off my long to-do list: Finish up the video projects I’ve been working on over the past two months. Pay rent. Pay my credit card bill. Get an oil change. Email recent clients to bug them about unpaid invoices. These are all the not-so-fun (but important) things I have to do because they will give me peace of mind while I’m away, and will ease my transition to post-expedition life.
As part of the required pre-expedition protocol, I also schedule a PCR COVID test. Exactly 24 hours after I shove a swab up my nose, I receive my negative test results and upload them to the online portal that contains all my other paperwork. At this particular time (April 2022) we are not required to complete a quarantine (which is a whole other pre-expedition experience) but all participants must be fully vaccinated and follow stringent preventative measures in the weeks leading up to our departure date. I wonder sometimes if COVID will continue to be a part of our onboarding protocols in the years to come (probably?) but I mostly feel grateful that we’re still able to go to sea during a seemingly never-ending pandemic.
I do my homework too, scrolling through the expedition website, memorizing objectives and the names and faces of my ship mates. For this one, it’s all familiar. I’ve sailed with just about everyone previously, and I’ve photographed/filmed the technology before.
Enjoy all the healthy things
Going to sea includes an abundance of fantastic, unique experiences. But living on a ship for weeks at a time also means sacrificing certain things. For me, the two “things” I miss the most (other than friends and family) are activities: cooking a fresh, homemade meal, and going for a long walk or run.
On the ship, I will eat whatever is served in the mess, and I will put in many, many miles on the treadmill. In the weeks before I leave, I go for a lot of walks. I walk to the Eno River, I walk around my neighborhood. I pick up my friend’s dogs and take them for walks. Spending hundreds of days at sea over the past few years has given me a much deeper appreciation for the simple act of walking on land.
I also spend a lot of time in my kitchen, creating fresh vegan dishes from scratch. Stir fried noodles with tofu and homemade peanut sauce. Lemon hummus. Spinach dip. French toast. Blackberry smoothies. During moments of down-time on the ship I will dream up new recipes and will delight in cooking all of them when I return home.
Remember what is most important
Without a doubt, the most important pre-expedition ritual is spending time with my friends and family. Two weeks ago, I visited my grandmother for Easter, and I’m glad I was able to spend an evening with my parents in Wilmington recently. Unfortunately COVID concerns prohibit me from spending time with some of my best friends, but we exchange texts and video messages. I enjoy a phone date with one of my oldest friends, and I call my brother to remind him Mother’s Day is coming up. The day before I leave, I put several cards and letters in the mail.
On my final day at home, I alternate between the important stuff (sending emails, doing laundry, double-checking that I’ve packed everything I need for the next month) and the really important stuff, like sitting on the porch and listening to Ryan play guitar. It is a cool Spring night and we can feel the temperature drop as the sun sets. When I come home at the end of May, summer will be in full swing, saturated with thick North Carolina humidity and persistent mosquitos. I breathe in the crisp air, feeling grateful to have such perfect weather on my final night at home.
I smile at Ryan as he strums one of my favorite songs, and reflect on what a wonderful partner he is. Over the past few days, he has been so helpful, running errands for me and taking care of the cooking and cleaning I would typically do. Tomorrow morning, he’ll drive me to the airport at the ridiculous hour of 4:30am. I am keenly aware that not every partner would be as supportive and understanding as he is. I’ll only be gone for a few weeks this time, but even when expedition work takes me away for a few months, Ryan remains steadfast in his love and encouragement.
Do the damn thing
On Saturday morning, I wake up exactly three minutes before my alarm is set to go off. It’s just after 4am, and I’ve only slept for a few hours, but I feel wide awake and invigorated. I pull on my Carhartts and my steel-toed boots and grab my duffel bag. It’s time to go to work.