You may imagine sleeping on a boat at a mooring to be a peaceful experience. It can be, if you hear the oystercatchers make their final calls of the day, or enjoy as the wind rolls you from side to side and the water flows around the hull. Our vessel, a poor sound barrier, allows us to enjoy this natural soundtrack.
However, there are also sounds at night that can drive you to a state of sleepless annoyance. Provoking, like fingernails screeching down a chalkboard. Noises that are background throughout the day can become unbearable when you lay your head down to rest. Below deck, hidden in our den, isolated as we are from the clear air, the waves, and the horizon, it’s somehow easier to feel irritated by noises that help to create a welcoming wild when above.
String section
Squeaak squeeaaak. A violinist finding their first note? No, the mooring strops against the rail. Creeeak. A high pitched note with every bob of the bow. Ropes taught, attached to the buoy, Lanita held in place. With each movement comes the incessant squeak of rope pulled along the teak.
Percussion – the rattle and the bang
The halyard at the mast calls to tell us we’ve forgotten, always as we’ve settled in for the night. How rotten.
Gong, flex, gong. Out to move it to the bow. Bare feet pad the deck. The rope catches in the wind, a bow without an arrow as it glides forward through the air. Attach carabiner to the guardrail, metal on metal. Tap, tap, rattle, rattle. Halyard flighty, ready to fly.
To the cockpit, wrap rope around the winch. Clutch unlocked, clunk. And pull. Whir, winch spins as bearings roll and hiss. Clutch closed, thump. Back inside I go.
Thud, bang! What on earth is that?! A hammer on the hull. Our new holding, with metal shackles at the end, crash against our side. We fear a hole in Lanita if this carries on for months! Thankfully, a few days in, we find a fender dampens the din. Rubber padding fixed in place, a dampened drumming now is all we’ll face.
The bass
The vibration not just felt within the body, like a low note of the bass. No, here the wind whistles around our mast and through the vertical slot along its aft. Each gust strums the large metal mainsail rod inside. Off key and off kilter. The beat is of its own design, no rhythm that we know. The whole boat judders and shakes as we stare upwards from below.
The melody
Countless times I’ve gotten up from my near slumber to go out on deck to try to prevent or reduce rattles or bangs that are exasperating to my sleepy ears. And though I drag myself from the den, there is part of me that relishes going out in the middle of the night. Delights in having a life where there is a reason to be outdoors, no matter the time, or the weather.
I take a moment to enjoy the vastness of sea and sky, with no other souls in sight. To appreciate the luxury of gazing into the distance no matter which direction I look. No buildings creating barriers here. Breathing in the fresh salty air, I’m reminded of how lucky I am.
Below deck for the final time I nestle my head back down, hoping to have dampened the worst of the percussion for the night – for the other sections are beyond my control. I close my eyes and tune in to the most soothing of songs – the swish and the swirl of water delicately licking at the sides of the hull.
It is everywhere, after all. All encompassing. We’re not so much surrounded by, as inside the melody. A classical lullaby that I allow to drown out the cacophony above. Falling into slumber as I remind myself – the most beautiful places are never silent, because nature is never still.
