Naval Sailors & Sea Fairers alike all have some larger than life sea stories to tell. Most of the tales are mostly true with a little bit of “added” flair to hold the audiences attention. Most stories are told with a measure of rum, a pint or quart of amber ale. No matter the beverage, a sea story always entertains the group and encourages all to tell a better tale. So grab an ale or whatever suits you and let me tell you a sea story...

Out in the Pacific Ocean, while on patrol and enroute to a lively liberty port, the morning sun was as red as red could be. It looked as if we were heading into a quite day. But the sky gave a better warning that the weather reports confirmed; 45 knot winds driving 20-30 foot seas. No storm warning, just sustained winds for the next 24 to 48 hours. The cutter’s weather expert recommend to change course 90 degrees to port and head into the wind to avoid the chop. “Nonsense” commanded the CO, “stay the course, we’re a steel ship built to take the seas and all it has to offer (ya, you know where this is going…). Well low and behold; sure as the next swell to follow, we were in the heaviest seas I’ve ever been in. Steady & constant pounding. It was very nerve racking. Best thing to do was sit tight and wait it out. But no, the CO was hell bent on making the next port call on time. I went up to the bridge to stand the next watch, quite a sight watching each wave approach the cutter. Off on the horizon, something looked amiss. The sea look flat, like a span of dark blue different from the rest of the sea. Only it wasn’t the sea, it was a bottomless trough that we were about to be dropped into. The cutter shuttered and seemed to stand still. Then all of the sudden we slowly popped up hovered in the air for what seemed like hours. Then, like a roller coaster at its apogee, we dropped at a tremendous speed downward. As we accelerated the cutter rolled to the starboard, shuttered, then stopped hard. The crest of the wave fell upon the bridge. All I could see forward was solid dark green water. We popped up even faster as the cutter spun now to port even more. Now we’re broadside ready to breech the next trough. The Officer of the Deck ordered full speed on the port engine and all back on the starboard. The next trough looked like the previous, only deeper. Whatever the young Lieutenant did it worked and as Davey Jones is my witness, the cutter seemed to glide down that trough and ride the following crest. It was amazing. As we flattened out on the surface, back on course, the cutter’s decks were awash with debris. The forward watertight doors were pushed through their fittings and cut down the fire stations on the port & starboard main deck. Not a mounted lifering was left in place & the rigid hull inflatable small boat had been lifted out of her chocks and ended up on the flight deck. The only flooding reported was in the CO’s Cabin when his port light blew inward and took on the vast majority of the sea the cutter ingested. Back on base course again cutter life was back on track. I'm sure the cutter's CO will think twice about his choice of sparing with the sea. What an experience….

Yeah, Sea can be heaven in one second & worse then hell in the next.
In a trip on a Chilean vessel in the South we got into a pretty heavy storm.
When a waked up to get to duty I already had calculated 15 min extra to do everything becouse of the heavy sea conditions.
At the end it took me 45 min to get dressed & half way ready (no shower, no shafe, no breakfest,...) & I got to duty 30 min late.
$hity weather holded it selfe from there to the next 48h.