A taste of salt

I'm finally back in my homeport, after a few weeks out at sea. I met my boat thousands of miles away, and rode her back. It was a good "first sea time" experience. Despite some bitterness from an extended shipyard period, everyone was excited to be underway. As much as I would like to say that the excitement was due to being operational again, it was probably more so due to the crew's desire to see their families. We hauled ass to get to where we were going, only really slowing to go through THE ditch. Yes, ladies and gentlemen, that is our good ship, transiting the locks.
We ended up in a different ocean within 12 hours. I was quite excited to cross the canal, however once actually IN the canal, the ordeal was decidedly less enthralling than expected. We got to go topside, and it was hot, muggy, and cloudy. The water looked gross, and during the Gaillard cut, all you could see was impenetrable jungle, likely rife with drug runners and booby traps.
The highlight of the canal crossing was seeing the Venezuelan President Hugo Chavez, tending the lines for the locks:

I was honored, that a level headed, compassionate statesman like Chavez would practice servant leadership and row the steel mooring lines to our boat. Gracias Senior, Gracias...

After the ditch, we did a quick stop in another port for 48 hours of business, and then finally, home. When we heard the distinctive echolocation call of minke whales, we knew we were close (obviously far more precise and direct methods of determining our position in the world exist on a US Attack Submarine, however they remove the romanticism of seafaring).

It is interesting to note how novel things become significantly less exciting when you're busy, locked in a steel tube, and lacking on sleep.

What I thought was cool for the first week:
1. The periscopes
2. Water slugs
3. The engine room
4. Wardroom meals
What I tried to avoid by the third week:
1. The periscopes
2. Water slugs
3. The engine room
4. Wardroom meals

Obviously, the above mentioned are part of my daily existence as a JO, so I 100% failed in avoiding those four things. But I can say that in the back of my head, I was trying. All in all, I'm still quite positive about the whole experience, but had to add just a little bit of nuke cynicism in there. If you ever read a personal account of submarine life that doesn't have cynicism in it, it is probably made up.

Fair winds, and uncontaminated seas