Tools of the Trade: "That Disgust of Existence"

We’ve discussed seasickness, and its causes and cures, before here at Triple P.  As it turns out, almost all animals can succumb to seasickness and humans are not often spared.  That includes, it seems, literary lions from days gone by.  Here is a little insight into the miseries suffered by none other than Harriet Beecher Stowe of Uncle Tom’s Cabin fame:

That disgust of existence, which, in half an hour of sailing, begins to come upon you; that strange, mysterious ineffable sensation which steals slowly and inexplicably upon you; which makes every heaving billow, every white-capped wave, the ship, the people, the sight, taste, sound and smell of everything a matter of inexpressible loathing! 

An excellent summation, no doubt.  The great Charles Dickens, however, chose to see the bright side, if you will:

I lay there, all the day long, quite coolly and contentedly; with no sense of weariness, with no desire to get up, or to get better, or take the air; with no curiosity, or care, or regret of any sort or degree, saving that I think I can remember, in the universal indifference, having a kind of lazy joy – of fiendish delight, if anything so lethargic can be dignified with the title – in the fact of my wife being too ill to talk to me. 

That’s one way to get the old ball and chain to shut up, no matter how extreme.  Ernest Shackleton wrote of some of his comrades in Antarctic exploration being “appallingly seasick.”  In particular, the ponies he had brought along on the expedition suffered interminably in high seas.  Creatures of the equine persuasion cannot vomit, so their misery was doubled by a constant nausea that had no release.

Perhaps Hippocrates put it most succinctly when he quipped “Sailing on the sea proves that motion disturbs the body.”  One wonders if it got his wife to clam up for a while as well.

Header: Sunrise on the Bay of Fundi by William Bradford

Tools Of The Trade: Feeling Ill

In crossing Saginaw Bay there was a good deal of motion, which I withstood most manfully for some time, but all in vain, being obliged, as I always am where there is the least motion in a vessel, to render up all my delicacies without reserve.

Thus wrote G. W. Featherstonhaugh of his experience aboard Marengo on Lake Huron in 1835. He goes on to note such seasickness cures as he was advised to try by fellow passengers (whiskey with water, sucking uncooked salt fish) and crew (chewing tobacco), none of which he tried. Mr. Featherstonhaugh’s situation is one that is all too familiar to a large portion of the population, including pirates and privateers, who had their own set of ideas about how to avoid this most uncomfortable seagoing illness.

The buccaneers of old believed that tying a kerchief tightly around the head, so that it put marked pressure on the forehead, would alleviate seasickness. Though this sounds as useless as sucking fish on the face of it, there may actually be some efficacy to the idea. The discomfort in the stomach is actually caused by a conflict between the inner ear, that solid home of our stability, and the eyes. Particularly below decks, the eyes see firm, seemingly unmoving surroundings, while the inner ear feels the motion that so upset Mr. Featherstonhaugh. Because your brain can’t reconcile this discrepancy it makes you sick to your stomach as a defense. Thanks, evolution. A constant distraction from this conflict, such as pressure on the head, may actually draw the brain’s attention away from the motion that’s bugging it and toward the other discomfort. Just a theory.

Some more time tested cures are as follows:

Do not concentrate, if at all possible, on your illness. Try to stay busy.
Don’t stay busy with small work like reading, writing, etc. That will make it worse.
Get up on deck and focus on the horizon. This allows your eyes to see the motion your ears are feeling.
Stay near the center of the ship where motion is minimized.
Avoid others who are seasick if possible. It’s almost contagious.
If you must lie down, do so on deck if you can and lie on your back.
Avoid caffeine, alcohol, strong odors, people smoking and the galley.
Keep your gastronomic experience simple; hardtack was famously the meal of the seasick. Today, saltines are a nice substitute.
Stay hydrated with plenty of water. In the Great Age of Sail, the seasick had first dibs on ale and ginger beer because the bubbles helped the stomach.

Because long sea voyages are virtually a thing of the past for the average person, most are unaware that seasickness usually wears off. After 24 to 48 hours, most people are fine and can handle the rest of a cruise as if they were on land. There are a few exceptions, of course. O’Brian fans will recall that Mr. Stanhope died of seasickness in HMS Surprise and I recall a “Deadliest Catch” episode where a cameraman had to be airlifted to Anchorage after becoming dangerously dehydrated due to seasickness. Some people really should steer clear of the sea all together. Just remember, as those clever buccaneers used to say while tying on their do-rags, seasickness belongs to the brain more than the stomach.

Header: Making Harbor by William Bradford c 1862

History: Are You All Right?

Seasickness, as I understand it, is a very personal thing. There are people - like your humble hostess - who just don't seem to ever be afflicted. There are others - my first mate for example - who get queasy looking at the Dore engraving above. I understand that and my heart goes out to people who get really seasick. As Charles Darwin, who did his share of sailing, once said: "If a person suffers much from sea-sickness, let him weigh [sailing] heavily in the balance." To have to abandon sailing all together would kill me. I'm sure I'm not the only one, but for many seasickness is worse than death.

Seasickness, of course, is a malady that has plagued humans since they first ventured out on boats. Even animals can get seasick. The horses brought by the English from Jamaica to Louisiana during the War of 1812 were notoriously seasick. So much so, in fact, that they were left at bayou Terre Beouf when the British departed. Patrick O'Brian has a giant tortoise in the hold of Surprise throwing up with regularity in HMS Surprise. That is also the book where poor Mr. Stanhope dies of complications having to do with perpetual and violent seasickness.

Generally speaking even the most heavily seasick get over it after a day or two at sea. The inner ear relaxes into the motion of the ship and one gets attuned to what it going on around them. Unlike air sickness, which has as much to do with altitude as motion, seasickness is, for the most part, a temporary condition. On the opposite end, serious salts can sometimes suffer from land sickness upon feeling the ground under them again after a long voyage. Not fun.

Remedies and suggestions for avoiding that awful, ill feeling abound. Ginger is an old trick and to this day chewing ginger is recommended for those who get seasick. Avoiding alcohol, spices and coffee and loading up on carbs before embarking are also considered wise. Once under way, keeping to the deck is said to be the best idea, thus allowing the eye and the inner ear to come to terms with one another. That does help unless the sea is very high or the weather is particularly inclement, in which cases I understand that hanging over the gunnels just makes it worse. Ah well; at least you can feed the fishes until there's nothing left to heave up.

In his 1884 journal of his first voyage aboard a whaler, David M. Lindsay left his description of the dreaded affliction:

Footsteps overhead and the singing of shanties on deck woke me up at daybreak, but I was intensely ill so stayed in bed all day. My room was illuminated by a small light set in the deck overhead and by a partially submerged port, so it was not cheerful. Above my head there was a book shelf. I tried to read but could not feel interested as it was so very depressing to look forward to months and months of this sort of thing.

The whaler put into port that night, and Lindsay found some "respite" from his unfortunate malady.

Next time you're out, feeling a little queasy, just remember it's only temporary. If only laudanum were still legal, you could sleep right through the worst of it which would be a blessing indeed. Instead, keep your ginger cookies close at hand. I understand them to work better than Dramamine.