Tag Archives: Seasickness

Marginalia, no.133

…then over and over slowly revolved like a waning world.

~ Herman Melville, Moby Dick

The passage describes the death throes of a harpooned sperm whale.  I remembered it this past Saturday while sitting aboard my father-in-law’s boat, bobbing a few miles off the coast.  The dreadful revolutions I witnessed, however, weren’t those of the whales we sighted in the distance but those of my own stomach.  I managed to keep breakfast intact only by slow breathing and staring hard at the horizon, meanwhile providing comic relief for several sea otters that winked as we passed, and a half dozen Dall’s porpoises that circled the boat, chittering hilariously and gasping from their blowholes.  After seeing the headless, bloated carcass of a seal float by, I was sure I’d never eat again.  But no sooner were we back on terra firma than I recovered my appetite and took revenge on the ocean by consuming a generous slice of halibut cooked in a lemon, butter and caper sauce.  It was delicious.

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