My ship departed from Seattle, on its way to Alaska. We glided along the Strait of Juan de Fuca, seeing the Olympic Mountains rising from the Olympic Peninsula. The partly cloudy sky meant a few rays of sun warming my back as we motored toward the open ocean.

But this delightful beginning to the journey didn't stay that way....you know it's bad when the sea becomes so rough that the swimming pool on the top deck is actually losing all its water because it's sloshing up and outside the confines of the pool. And so it was on our first night at sea -- thirty foot waves that had the ship lurching and lunging, completely submerging my portal. A couple times, and I am not kidding, the ship pitched down so abruptly I actually got air, like a skateboarder sailing off the top of a half-pipe. Seasick bags were stacked in every corridor. It was a rough night.

Toward midnight, I crossed the swimming pool deck as waves waged like tsunamis inside them, the deck coursing with water. Rain-battered workers tried to place nets over the surfaces of the pools.