South

As the log entries ticked down closer to 000°00’ it struck me that this was no ordinary Atlantic crossing. The sixth notch on my Atlantic belt is one that sees my crossing of the equator by sea, it’s a sailors life for me. The anticipation of what our traditional hazing was to be on crossing the equator was far worse than what actually happened, as we hopped the line we cheered and dutifully paid our respects to Neptune, a bit of excitement to mark the moment. Now we plunge deeper into the southern hemisphere, pointing our nose to the bottom of the world.

Spending such extended periods of time at sea without any vices that dull the senses like alcohol and hours on end spent pouring through literature sharpens the mind in a truly refreshing way. A recent thought process brings to surface a meaningful connection to the history of our human endeavours and evolution. The sight of only water and waves and wind is the oldest sustained view that we share with our ancestors, this is what they saw. All those years of exploration, conflict, trade culminating in the success of our race as an interconnected entity, made possible by taking to the water. The difference is that they were pushed by a resilience that we now cannot relate to; plunging themselves into the unknown waters of the great oceans, these fickle beasts, without knowing where they were bound to hit land if ever. This is surely a great challenge I have embarked on, but respect for those exceptional feats met by exceptional people stays my hand at writing too keenly on my courage to take it on.

There has been little life around us in these few days after crossing the equator, some birds join us to rest their wings on the deck and the fishing lures give the occasional buzz to break the routine. The lures are now hookless, anything that attempts to bite will give us an indication on the reel and a quick show of thrashing about but nothing more; the wind is steadily increasing in force and the swells along with it so catching a fish at this point is more of a hazard than a joy, we are slap bang in the middle of the Atlantic. Our course after Cape Verde took us more South than West, we made for a High pressure trade wind to be able to sail Destination down the Atlantic, even with this much Diesel in the tanks we need a minimum of a week’s good sailing.

As we pass the Uruguayan longitude the sea temperature drops noticeably, from a toasty 29° at the equator to 20° overnight. The blue tint of the ocean also changes ever so slightly every day, the further south we are the more it darkens. We have had a spectacular few days of sailing, hopefully it stays this way for a little longer. When we motorsail everything is more efficient and comfortable, the time of arrival prediction on our chart plotters drop from 24 days to 20 days as the boat speed picks up to a steady 14 knots. The two hearty meals a day keeping everyone energised and morale up are far sight more than the rations of seal blubber, penguin meat and biscuits that kept the crew of the Endurance alive for more than a year in the harsh environment of the Antarctic. We are all competing to finish our mile challenge; the idea is that we do as many repetitions of any exercise of choice (push-ups, sit-ups etc.) as there are miles covered in the day. So, with our average being 250 miles a day, we aim for 250 reps every day, a good way to keep the muscles strong.. this is not the kind of boat that has us physically fatigued to sail.

We have officially stepped into Argentinian Latitudes, the paper charts are changing at an exciting rate. Winds have been on our side and the boat has covered big miles fast. It feels again as though the change was overnight with the sea now at 13°C and steadily dropping. This dramatic change in conditions is something quite noteworthy.. of course it is possible to fly from one location that is basking in a blasting summer sun to a cold wintery place all in a matter of hours, but to experience it in the way we are is nothing short of unique. It is an equation of time against change that we are not accustomed to, stretching the change of three seasons over 30 days, and boy do you feel it at sea.

Mike and I spent this morning of the 29th of November discussing our latest weather report, there is a heavy low pressure system coming off the Andes that we are heading straight into, winds of 50+ knots threaten to throw us way off course and pile another few days on to this long journey, so we change course and head SE to ride the tails of the low and be spat out of the bottom of it.

The Southern Atlantic is most certainly a force to be reckoned with, the call we made was the right one, even though heading southeast toward South Georgia was a disconcerting course change as it meant pointing away from our destination, it was the right one. Still we were hit by 10 foot swells, any work being done outside of the cockpit is only done by one of three of us at this stage unless more people are needed, in which case all hands on deck for more eyes. In the now 8°C water the chance of survival if one were to fall in to the water with the kind of seas were are experiencing is most certainly zero. No heroics, as Nanna always says. Other than a rig check here and there, our exercise routines and a daily rinse of the deck there is little action outside of the deck house.

The fauna of the South is starting to show itself. One gracious giant that has impressed me is the Albatross. Their size is quite something to behold, a three metre wingspan should lend itself to a clumsy deft motion but their flight is anything but that. Using the boat as a flying fish baiter, they approach us from above and sweep down to sea level about 300 metres behind us, while skimming the water mere millimetres from their wingtips they shoot up every rolling wave at unbelievable speed as though it were a ramp, only to come down the back of the next one, smooth as butter.

It is a surreal feeling to say the least but the moment has finally arrived. We are 60 miles from land, 100 miles from the mouth of the Magellan Straits. On this day the 6th of December we will have our last night of sleep in the Southern Atlantic. We will be met by a pilot boat at the mouth of the straits and slowly make our way through tomorrow, not before a couple of curious chinstrap penguins popped their heads up for a gander. Energy levels are high and the excitement is palpable.

Would it not be funny if we were just going round in a circle for the last 30 days? Little more than a compass tells us otherwise!

Fleet