I read on the Internet that some women are biologically attracted to the pheromones that men emit when sweating. Well if true, the sail down from Gladstone should have had the kind womenfolk of Coffs Harbour howling at the moon when we arrived. I was in fear for my other crew mates because they were trying a bit too hard in my opinion and would be ravaged upon docking. I didn't want to be partly responsible for accidents as hungry females swam across the harbour just to be first to clamber onboard and devour us men! I must write to that Internet chappie and let him know he's got it wrong.
When I arrived on Kayle on the first day of the Campaign back in Sydney the crew kindly informed they had reserved the lower forwd windward bunk for me, right under the hatch. What an honour! The crew obviously ranked me important enough that If there was a fire they wanted me first out and safe to carry on my many missions in life. After all this time swabbing the decks after Try Sail Days my importance had finally be realised so in my excitement I ignored the fact that out there in a swell a wave can break over the boat and torrent towards any opening it can find. My damp sleeping bag confirms we've had more waves than fires so far.
With this in mind, the other day on a particularly fine morning I awoke in good spirits and plucked up the courage to go aft where the rest of the crew sleep. Prayers said and harness on, I attached a safety line and crawled into the gloom, my head torch making ghostly shadows as I eased my way towards the stern. Now I'm a man not easily ruffled having lived through not one, but two childbirths with my wife in the same room, but let me tell you my friends, the sounds and smells back there that day were not of this Earth.
I witnessed the horrifying spectre of demons crying out, frantically trying to escape the putrid atmosphere created by the crew, unable to be released from their sentence to purgatory for heinous sins committed in a past life. It was bad, really bad, yet my fellow crew seemed content and comfortable there! They looked strangely at peace gently grunting in rhythm and blending their aromas to a produce a Son et Parfumiere that could stop tanks in their tracks. You know, sometimes they even carry that aura with them as move around the boat, quite significantly offending my own clean and keen natural senses.
Still, we're a team on the Northern Campaign and those who dwell together must be prepared to smell together! And we do.