Cape Horn and Drakes Passage
5th January 2019
0500hrs
We have departed our anchorage of Port Williams, the initial plan was to leave yesterday but one of the many mean low pressure systems that blast through the Drake had us waiting an extra night to avoid smashing into twenty five-foot waves. The land before the horn is telling of the forces of nature that this part of the world is exposed to. Nevertheless the natural beauty persists in the unspoiled landscape, the Wollaston islands look to be a heavenly cruising spot for those not on the job.
0900hrs
An eerie silence has come over the boat, the distant voices of all the souls lost in these waters seem to haunt the rocky pillars. The mountainous landscape is making way for a different rock formation; rocks that look more like decaying teeth, a noticeable change from the robust titans that have flanked our path thus far. The wind and sea has total domination over this place, its relentlessness is so clearly evidenced by the geography and it hangs in the wind even though we are only seeing twenty five knots. As we round the last island the horn comes into view. All the stories I have heard, read about and been told of this place and there it is, a few miles off our starboard bow. The horn itself looks like a giant beastly rhino horn with an ominous angle to it. An impressive sight that brings up an emotional connection to my passion for sailing. I am honoured to be passing this way, to be touching on the path of giants.
1400hrs
We had the horn at our stern by 1000hrs this morning and we sailed into a hefty fifteen-foot swell that has been throwing us around like a bath toy for the better part of the day. I can’t help but feel the excitement at the prospect of a good Southern Ocean bashing build inside me. Having been fortunate enough to be born into a sailing legacy - my own grandfather is a renowned sailor adorned in literal and figurative medals of nautical honour - my blood pumps all the more efficiently when the weather starts to deteriorate and salt spray bites at my skin. After all, we are navigating the most treacherous waters documented by sailors through the ages, my story has to be told or I shall return to be thrashed and done right by, perhaps this is the madness that brings sailors to repeatedly challenge the all-powerful oceans. As my father and grandfather both reminded me recently, I am the first of our tribe - Calascione and Ripard - to be sailing this far south and it is an honour I humbly carry, both are exemplary men who have achieved greatness, to be commended by them is my very own success.
2200hrs
The giant rollers persisted for most of the day with a steady twenty-knot breeze left by a low pressure system that we are trailing behind. Our forecast is giving headwinds tomorrow but the window of opportunity in this crossing is very limited and any opportunity seen must be taken, we have definitely made the right move leaving when we did. Alas, I will not experience the full force of a storm, but something tells me I will be back here to make the North-South crossing again, this is what it means to be alive.
7th January
0500hrs
Yesterday we spent most of the day and night smashing into a head on three-metre swell, very little sleep to be had. The outside temperature has plummeted and we finally experienced below zero temperatures. This new and welcomed experience is an interesting contrast to what I am used to on yachts, we are usually chasing summers around the world. The sea temperature quickly dropped to two degrees which prompted Ish and I to start work on our Antarctic engineering tweaks. A lot of the machinery on the boat works with variations of heat exchange pumping sea water through their relative components, the sea getting closer to freezing temperatures means that we need to close up the engine room ventilation and use the heat generated by our main engine and generators to keep everything from icing over. We diverted the water maker intake to a loop around the generator sound shell and back to the water maker, it made a huge difference and we will continue along this line of thought with other problem areas.
I am now coming off a long watch having had very little sleep in the last days, my watch buddy and I spotted the first sign of land; a gigantic iceberg! What a fantastic sight. The massive white berg slowly faded into view on the misty horizon, even though it’s a good twenty miles away the glacial blue radiates through our binocular viewfinders. We excitedly clucked away at each other and both wanted to stay up to be there when we drive passed it but I can hardly keep my eyes open at this stage. A personal consolation that we will see icebergs every day for the next ten days drove me to my bunk where I type this sleepy despatch, later today I will wake up in the icy wonderland of Antarctica..