Limited peripheral vision may end his days on the racetrack, but on the Gazela he is among the first to scale the rig or jump at an officer's orders. Life below decks could hardly be more different than life above. Below, it's cramped, often foul-smelling, and bathed at night in red light to aid night vision. The crew sleeps on yellow sponge mattresses in tightly packed bunks no more than three feet high and not much more across. Loose blue shades tied up with string offer some nighttime privacy, but in warm weather most forfeit that in exchange for an extra whiff or two of fresh air.
Most bunks are in the forecastle, which doubles as the dining room.
For those who can learn to live with it, the close quarters often foster close friendships. Some of our language is salty, which just gives me a big laugh. The kind of people who go on a ship like this are special. We're like family. At the end of the day, the family members who can spare a moment sit along the rails or lean against a mast to watch the sunset.