Norsk versjon

Text and drawings by Lucretia Romey

"Going to sea". The very words are exciting and conjure up images of endless water and exotic ports. I have spent months at sea but each time is different. This voyage we will embark at Malta in the Mediterranean and sail west along the coast of Africa to Gibraltar. We will cross the Atlantic Ocean to Brazil and sail south to Antarctica. The MS Explorer will make 4 trips back and forth from there to the Falkland Islands and Argentina. This will involve 8 crossings of the dreaded Drake Passage.

Our ship is an exploration vessel for 96 passengers. My husband is the resident oceanographer and geologist. I am the resident artist and quilter. Somehow I must find room in my suitcase and pack watercolors, paper and fabric. I choose 100 ¼ yard pieces of cloth; red, green and yellow for sunsets, green and blue for the sea and all the shades of black and white for the frozen south. In addition to my hand sewing kit, I bring magnet clips (for hanging items on the wall) and a small cutting board.

I know our cabin will be small, but it is always a surprise to see how small it is. It is 80 inches by 100 inches, which includes our two bunks and a tiny chest. All the quilting supplies I put in my suitcase which slides under the bed can be pulled out like a drawer. I cut, pin and plan on my bed. I do not drop pins. All sewing is by hand, generally with my feet braced against the rolling of the ship.

The most important item I take with me beside my rubber boots is my sketchbook. Malta, port of departure, provides my first drawing. Its stone towers on medieval walls and harbor become my first applique panel. Navy blue cotton with gold stars is a perfect sky.

We dock at Motril, Spain, and take a bus to Granada. The Alhambra, a palace built by the Moors in the 14th century, has a lifetime of quilt ideas on its tiled walls. Tours are not for sketchers, so I take photographs even where I'm not supposed to.

We waves get lager as we sail out into the Atlantic Ocean and I try one of those ear patches for seasickness. Our round cabin porthole is an ever-changing seascape. It looks like a washing machine. One moment I see sky and birds and the next moment we are under water in the green sea. Phase three is the curling white foam. These images become panel two. Each appliqued panel is then sewn directly to the fabric backing and fiberfill with stripes of cloth. I hold the quilt on the wall with magnets where I can watch its progress.

We dock at Tangiers and walk through Casbah. In Casablanca I sketch the markets and buy a caftan. The ship picks up new passengers in Tenerife and then overnights in St. Vincent, Cape Verde Islands. Name notwithstanding, this island is not green. I select brown, tan and rust for mountain and beach applique panel. I even found some tiny shells in the sand. They have small holes through which I could sew them onto the sand colored fabric.

At sea again, we sail southwest across the Atlantic Ocean. I almost feel as if the shops in port are interruption to the real business of the ship, which is to be sailing on the water out of sight of land. The air gets warmer as we near the equator. In the distance is a black rainstorm and overhead, billowing gray rainclouds. When the ship is not rolling, I cut out panel 4. As I sew on an image of a porpoise, a whole school of them appear off the port bow. They leap out of the water as if to make sure I get the proportions right.

Days later we sight land; Brazil. My sketches, which were mainly birds and sea mammals, now become fruits and palm trees and lush vegetation. I love the bright pink, blue and yellow  stucco houses with dark tile roofs in Recife and Bahia. I applique a red hibiscus flower with long yellow stamens onto a dark blue fabric. Is it maybe too bright? No, they are that color.

November 3 is eclipse day. How fortunate we are to have clear weather for this total solar eclipse. Sitting on the top deck, I watch the sun through specially coated mylar glasses. Every 5 minutes I sketch the narrowing crescent. The sky darkens and the air is noticeably colder. At totality, only a glowing ring of sun is visible with streams of bright gas flowing out from opposite sides. These images I condense into 5 suns for the central panel of my quilts.

The weather gets colder now as we head toward the south polar regions. Albatrosses and petrels soar aft of the ship. Whales come to see what manner of beast we may be. We pick up a new group of passengers in the Falklands and continue south. Somewhere in the night we pass the Antarctic convergence and enter an area of fog. The ship slows and the Captain, First Mate and others all watch for icebergs. The next night I am awakened to the sound of the ship's hull crunching through ice. We have entered the pack ice. Now I will need gloves when drawing on deck.

Snow covered mountains, glaciers and floating ice of all sorts are now the landscape. Penguins and seals lounge about on the floating ice pans. We have entered a black and white world. There are deep blue cracks in the glaciers and the icebergs turn aqua underwater. Panel seven takes shape with ultra suede seals.

We climb down ladders to rubber rafts (zodiacs) which take us ashore. A welcoming committee of penguins greets us. Chinstrap penguins, adelie penguins, rock hoppers and macaronis; they seem curious as to what sort of red coated penguins we are.  I sketch for hours and back on the ship start the last panel of Gentoo penguins and their rocky beach. I even find a reddish print for the soiled area around their stone nests.

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