On Noises

At Sea
January 16, 2006

We did have a comfortable night last night, except for the noises. I’ll
explain.

Onboard a boat one becomes hypersensitive to background noises. A
noise could be a clue to being off course, or of a weather change, or of
the anchor dragging, or being to close to something else, or of
something chafing or malfunctioning. Further, a boat is not big so
whatever noises there are always seem close to your ear. They are
close. Finally, the noises are constantly changing with wind, waves,
weather and temperature. Put those all together and the result is a
fine recipe for always being bothered by some worrisome sound that one
can’t identify.

In the Russian Cut it was something that sounded like water running from
a downspout. At first we thought it was raining and that the sound
came from rainwater dripping from the boom. Then we learned that it
wasn’t raining. Three times I got out of bed in the middle of the
night and searched on deck for the source of the sound. Up on deck it
couldn’t be heard at all. I finally concluded that it was the wavelets
slapping on the hull to make a sound combination we hadn’t heard before.

Last night as we tried to go to sleep, there was a noise that sounded
like a golf ball bouncing on the deck right above our ears. Every time
a wave would rock us the noise started again. We talked about it in
bed, trying to deduce what it must be. I abstained from going up on
deck in the middle of the night. This morning I looked over everything
on deck and I could not find any source of that noise.

Early this morning, it was the sound of a diesel engine working hard.
It got so loud that I though that it must be a boat coming close to us.
Since we were at the end of a dead end bight, there should be no boats
near us. I went up on deck to check. It was a fishing boat on the
other side of Indian Key about ½ mile away from us. No danger. It was
also the first of a dozen or so fishing boats that headed out to sea
between 0400 and 0600. They sure sounded loud.

I suspect that no matter how many years we live on a boat there will
forever be new and strange noises to bother us.

On the other hand, noises that we can identify don’t register on our
brains no matter how loud. The best example of that is the sound of
halyards slapping against the mast when it’s windy. Not only are we
familiar with that on Tarwathie, but on every boat we’ve ever slept on,
and on nearly every other boat in a crowded marina or harbor. To us it
is as familiar a sound of the sea as the call of seagulls. It
surprised me to read that some marinas require sailboats to tie up their
halyards so they don’t bang. It surprised me again in Vero Beach when
we rafted up with another sailboat that the captain of that boat asked
me to tie up my halyard so he could sleep. It surprised both of us when
talking to Nancy one day on the cell phone when she asked, “What’s that
banging noise?” My first reaction was, “I don’t hear any noise.”
Objectively, though the halyard was banging so loudly on the mast that
it sounded like beating a metal pipe with a hammer.

My favorite noise onboard the boat is that of the water swishing by
along the hull when we are under sail at sea. Libby agrees.

Another pleasant sound is the chime of our ship’s clock. It is a very
nice clock and the chime’s clarion tone continues several seconds after
a strike. Being a ship’s clock, it strikes every half hour (1 bell) up
to four hours (8 bells), signaling a four hour watch stand. Then it
starts again with 1 bell. Therefore, 8 bells sounds at midnight 0400
0800 1200 1600 and 2000 each day. When I wake up at night and I hear
one bell, for example, my mind must decide if it is 0030 or 0430. That
helps to keep me aware of my surroundings.

We also have onboard a clock from a Russian submarine. It belonged to
my father and it is the only memento I have left of my father. It
makes a very nice tick tock sound. I always loved ticking clocks.
Unfortunately, the submarine clock is up in the V berth and we can’t
hear the ticking unless we sleep up there.

One sound I miss is the that of our Clarkson coo coo clock. It had a
very loud tick tock. It also had a long pendulum and pine cone shaped
weights. I remember fondly the tick tock of that clock at night in the
various houses we’ve owned. Sometimes, not often, the coo coo would
also sound. Alas, a pendulum clock is on the list of things least
compatible with sailboats.

The other sounds I miss include the call of mourning doves and the sound
of the peepers from our pond in West Charlton. Libby and I agreed that
the most joyous day of the year in West Charlton was that day in late
March when the climate warmed up enough for the first peeper to peep.
During April, May and June the number of peepers and peeps would grow to
a crescendo then fade. After mid July we never heard a peep. I told
visitors that the peepers would peep seeking a mate. After they got
laid they were satisfied and quiet. I have no idea if that was true but
it made a great story.

Did I mention that I’m an insomniac? You may have guessed that from my
fondness for night sounds. Sound sleepers may seldom hear any of
those.