Once my sea sickness had disappeared, I found sleeping on a fishing boat to be very comfortable. A little bit too comfortable, in fact…
‘Tuesday 13th November
Course – 228°
09:00 – The battery on my phone died – It’s taken me nearly half an hour to figure out whether it’s Monday, or still Tuesday…
I’m not sure if it’s an advantage or a disadvantage, I suppose it depends on how you look at it? But sleeping on this boat has its issues. When I’m at home, I usually only ever go to bed when I’m tired and I rarely lie-in – once I’m awake, I’m awake, and I get out of bed, even if it’s just to sit and watch the news (Jeremy Kyle)
In my cabin, with the lights off, there is absolute darkness, total pitch black. Add to this the constant, unrelenting throbbing and rattling created by the large diesel engine and what you have is a womb-like state which is surprisingly conducive to deep sleep.
I went to my bunk at 17:00 yesterday and woke up at 06:00 this morning – that’s 13-hours of virtually unbroken sleep, which is unheard of for me. When I did wake-up, I had no idea what time it was, literally, not a clue to the nearest day. I have tried setting alarms, but my phone invariably disappears down between the mattress and the bunk frame, and even with it next to my head, I don’t hear it over the ambient noise. And yesterday at 5 pm I went for a ‘quick lie down’ with an uncharged iPhone.
In the galley, the crew are in their bunks, I’m watching ‘Aliens’ and trying to convince myself that I haven’t missed anything while doing an impersonation of The Dormouse. But I have’
After a while, I got to a point that I felt a bit guilty when I wasn’t taking photos but everyone else was still working. When the crew were in bed, there really was very little to photograph, so I’d either go to bed myself and end-up in hyper-sleep, or I’d sit in the galley watching movies and documentaries on satellite tv.