literature

Travel literature includes guide books, travel memoirs and the curious experiences that happen when you seek adventure.

Afloat
If you are reading this that means I survived being Stranded at sea and lived to tell my story. My name is Maria and here is the story of the time I was stranded at sea.
By Vanessa Marin5 years ago in Wander
Diarist: John Ashbery
I discovered John Ashbery at Barnes and Noble in Ala Moana Mall. Of course, I had heard his name and wasn't the first person to "discover" Ashbery. But I had only heard his name in the genre of poets I should have already known, poets who were so important my ignorance was unheard of. I walked the two miles from my ship to the closest bookstore along Nimitz Highway, losing myself in the bright Hawaiian heat and my thoughts. The industrial, dusty ports turned into downtown blocks turned into the border between old and new: Kaka'ako, Ala Moana Beach, and the mall opened into new beginnings. When I arrived at the air-conditioned entrance to the bookstore I felt a marked difference between where I had come from and where I'd arrived.
By Joe Nasta | Seattle foodie poet5 years ago in Wander
The Remains
The sea was calm and Captain Hayes was relaxed as he took in the beautifully clear and sunny day. The last few days had been cloudy and unpleasant. The good turn in weather had lifted his spirits as well as the rest of his crew’s. They had been on the water for 40 some-odd days now, and they were grateful simply to be able to enjoy the good fortune in weather on their long journey to treasure cove.
By William Dean5 years ago in Wander
A Lamb Among Lions. First Place in Fairs Winds Challenge. Finalist in 2023 Vocal Writing Awards - Young Adult Fiction.
Her father kept her hair short, her face muddy and her clothes loose and dirty. He told her never to speak, never to make eye contact with the other men on the ship. If they ever found out she was a woman, there would be hell to pay.
By Nicole Deviney5 years ago in Wander
Patience
A colorful parrot flies high above Jack. “There it goes – the only color this island had,” he said. “This island is nothing but brown. Even the plants look faded.”
By Derek Evers5 years ago in Wander
Good Boy
The boy sat perched on the main mast overlooking the vast ocean. From the crow’s nest he had a 360-degree view of the merchant ship from about twenty-five feet above. “Three masts,” and “Darkness on the horizon,” he calmly repeated to himself, two bits of advice the Captain told him before sending him up the rigging for his first night watch. Since then, the boy had taken this advice to heart and was now on his third straight night incident free. Not bad for being only his fourth night ever on a sea-going vessel in his fifteen years alive. He was very green, and the last thing he wanted to do was let his Captain down. So, the boy repeated the advice and attentively did his job.
By Lane P.5 years ago in Wander
A Dream at the End of the Earth
1. Crocker Land: On First Sight It was 1906, the Arctic Circle. Admiral Robert Peary, explorer in round goggles, scuffed reindeer parka, snow and ice a mile thick under his feet and caked in his beard and eyebrows, had destiny and the end of the world behind him. He had come close to the North Pole, but his dash an exit across miles of rough sea ice, escaping the vast melting shelf with twenty-six dogs, four Inuit mushers, fourteen crew men, and his life, but without seven of his toes. It was another foiled attempt at reaching the pole.
By Beth Jones5 years ago in Wander
A Man By The Sea
Each evening, I sit here. Witnessing the golden sun, as it prepares to sleep far in the distance. Lighting the sky with a fiery orange and red glow. I hear the horn of the cruise ship "tooting" goodbye as it sails to the next port. Three times, as dictated by maritime tradition. In contrast, I notice an old sailboat that sits quietly in the horizon, small to the eyes, making its way slowly, gliding through the waves. It used to be a party boat years ago, full of life and music. Now, it just sails from one side of the island to the other. A ghost ship. Drifting away, every day. That's the passage of time, the passage of life. The wind guides it towards its destination. The same wind that, as a light breeze, brushes my face whispering a tropical melody.
By Marina Fortuño5 years ago in Wander
The Sailor's Song
"The Heart of the Sea, Trapped in time, I'll sing you back to me, Love of mine..." I see you, Sailor. Your endless search for me. That is perhaps the cruellest part of her curse. She allows me to watch you... want you. So close, yet just beyond reach. Our tether pulls me wherever you go but her curse holds me under. Never allowed to breach the surface.
By Jessie Waddell5 years ago in Wander
Del Cuerpo
I leapt, seabag bulging from my back. I stepped off the last concrete step on the dock. In the rolling launch, after flying to Chile and traveling eighty kilometers through her green and yellow roads, I was home. The Ocean. In the closing distance my ship bobbed in the current and wind-leaned away from her anchor in just-out-the-shipyard paint. I absorbed familiar cycles through the deck of the launch.
By Joe Nasta | Seattle foodie poet5 years ago in Wander
The Ship at Dawn
In that one moment, everything went quiet. The pace of the world slowed, and the stiff breeze had all but dissipated. The first tendrils of deep red sunlight had begun to emerge over the horizon, snaking lazily across the sea as dawn broke.
By Charlotte Elisha Riggs5 years ago in Wander
Yacht story/ Fair winds
One of the worst maritime disasters in European history took place a decade ago. It remains very much in the public eye. On a stormy night on the Baltic Sea, more than 850 people lost their lives when a luxurious ferry sank below the waves. From a mass of material, including official and unofficial reports and survivor testimony, our correspondent has distilled an account of the Estonia's last moments—part of his continuing coverage for the magazine of anarchy on the high seas. After midnight, in the first hours of September 28, 1994, the ferry Estonia foundered in the waves of a Baltic storm. The ship was the pride of the newly independent Estonian nation, recently arisen from the Soviet ruins. It was a massive steel vessel, 510 feet long and nine decks high, with accommodations for up to 2,000 people. It had labyrinths of cabins, a swimming pool and sauna, a duty-free shop, a cinema, a casino, a video arcade, a conference center, three restaurants, and three bars. It also had a car deck that stretched from bow to stern through the hull's insides. In port the car deck was accessed through a special openable bow that could be raised to allow vehicles to drive in and out. At sea that bow was supposed to remain closed and locked. In this case, however, it did not—and indeed it caused the ship to capsize and sink when it came open in the storm and then fell entirely off. On the night of its demise the Estonia had 989 people aboard. It departed from its home port, Tallinn, at around 7:15 P.M., and proceeded on its regular run, 258 miles and fifteen hours west across open waters to the Swedish archipelago and Stockholm. For the first several hours, as dusk turned to night, it moved through sheltered coastal waters. Passengers hardy enough to withstand the wind and cold on deck would have seen gray forested islands creeping by to the north, and to the south the long industrial shoreline of Estonia giving way to a low coast darkening until it faded into the night. Gentle swells rolled in from the west, indicating the sea's unease—with significance probably only to the crew, which had received storm warnings for the open water ahead but had not spread the news. There were various forecasts, and they tended to agree: an intense low-pressure system near Oslo was moving quickly to the east, and was expected to drag rain and strong winds across the route, stirring up waves occasionally as high as twenty feet. Such conditions were rare for the area, occurring only a few times every fall and winter, but for ferries of this size they were not considered to be severe. Surviving crew members later claimed that a special effort had been made on the car deck to lash the trucks down securely—exemplary behavior that, if it occurred, probably had more to do with concern about vehicle-damage claims than about the safety of the ship. No other preparations were made. The main worry was to arrive in Stockholm on time. After midnight, in the first hours of September 28, 1994, the ferry Estonia foundered in the waves of a Baltic storm. The ship was the pride of the newly independent Estonian nation, recently arisen from the Soviet ruins. It was a massive steel vessel, 510 feet long and nine decks high, with accommodations for up to 2,000 people. It had labyrinths of cabins, a swimming pool and sauna, a duty-free shop, a cinema, a casino, a video arcade, a conference center, three restaurants, and three bars. It also had a car deck that stretched from bow to stern through the hull's insides. In port the car deck was accessed through a special openable bow that could be raised to allow vehicles to drive in and out. At sea that bow was supposed to remain closed and locked. In this case, however, it did not—and indeed it caused the ship to capsize and sink when it came open in the storm and then fell entirely off.
By Jaramie Kinsey5 years ago in Wander