46 Days in the Southern Ocean

46 days in the Southern Ocean. If the sun stares down at you for two days running in the Southern Ocean, it means it’s time to wrap things up. Usually, sunny spells are shorter and more fleeting. The day before yesterday, clear weather suddenly blew in from nowhere while we were reefing the sails in the fog. We looked around, and more than half the sky was blue, with sunshine as if it were summer. We went inside and dragged the cushions out into the pilothouse, closer to the light, then looked again—and the sun was already gone. There wasn’t a trace of blue sky left among the clouds. Everything vanished in half an hour. Well, we were a little upset, but the next morning the sun finally showed some decency and honestly put in a full day, a night, and another half-day. Nothing like that had happened for a fortnight. And our Lady Mary turned into a drying hut. Despite the bracing temperature of 12 degrees, we created a through-draught between the forehatch and the companionway hatch. Shift the mattresses, dry behind them, soak the mould in vinegar and chloramine. And it was bath day too. Here, just like at a polar station, we measure time in bath days. We hadn’t had a proper wash since last year—the swell kept getting in the way. To our surprise, once we were clean and sunlit, we found we had far more cheer and energy than the day before. We moved Ladunya onto the settee in the saloon, which doubles as the children’s study and is opposite the galley. The settee had warmed up in the sunlight and had finally, more or less, dried out. So our young sailor moved closer to the treats, exercise books, and felt-tip pens. After airing out the forward cabin, we shut it up; it’s now our cold-storage room. The mattresses are raised, and the closed door keeps the cabin from warming up enough to produce copious condensation. Instead, the door itself, between the galley and the forward cabin, has started getting wet. The quest called “Dry Out the Floating Home” continues. . . .. .. . .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. ... .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. . . .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. . .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. . Daily life in the empty, cold ocean is very monotonous and dictated by the same circumstance that makes a bear sleep in its den until summer. It’s cold. And it’s wonderful inside a sleeping bag; if it weren’t for hunger, nothing could lure most of the crew out from under one. Today our young sailor barely emerged from her new den in the saloon and even migrated under the table, having naturally rolled down from the settee. She would have gone on reading there under a blanket, perched on the crates of grapefruit, if Mum hadn’t chased her out. Time for squats and push-ups—otherwise, how are we going to walk on land later? Well, food, of course, remains our main form of entertainment, apart from work on deck, which we’ve tried to reduce to a minimum. We’re not even fishing; after the ciguatera, we still haven’t dared. We’re bored with the same old food, so we’re cooking new and strange dishes, inventing recipes from whatever tins and grains we have to hand. It turns out that if you pour some mildly spicy vegetable Mexican salsa into a bowl, add a tin of sweetcorn, a tin of mussels in oily tomato sauce, chop in some onion, and mix the whole lot together, you get one splendid concoction. You can spoon it up with rissoles, spread it on crackers, or serve it with rice instead of salad. Heat it up and it becomes goulash. Hot tea in the morning. And for the rest of the day there is always something burbling away in the thermos, for body and soul, seasoned with Altai herbs.. . .. .. . .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. ... .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. . . .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. . .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. . The forecast still promises nothing dreadful, but it keeps driving around and reshuffling areas of high and low pressure. And we keep dodging them. The captain decided to make easting first, while the strong southerlies were blowing. So over the past twenty-four hours, not only have we made no progress south in terms of latitude, we’ve actually crept back north. But in longitude, we’re ahead of the whole planet. The wind is due to shift at any moment, and then we’ll taaake off to the southeast. If our current speed holds, we’ve only got about 15 days left to Cape Horn. Which makes us indescribably happy. After all, a two-month passage through the high latitudes is nothing like racing through Polynesia in the trade winds. Some of us—me, for example—even feel like having a good whinge now and then. But I’m holding it together, guys. Since we’ve got ourselves into a drawn-out battle, we’re going all the way. Lady Mary’s current position, with us aboard, is 51° south and 111° west. We hope we can still be seen on marinetraffic.com under MMSI 273334590. . . .. .. . .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. ... .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. . . .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. . .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. . The wind is at least 25 knots; we don’t know exactly, because the last storm carried away the wind sensor from the mast. Waves occasionally break over the pilothouse roof, while the cap and I bubble over with ideas. For example, we’ve decided to move #GingerbreadHouse—our home in the Altai, which is rented out by the day while we’re sailing around the world—from Facebook and VKontakte to Instagram. And instead of the usual posts, we’ll write a fairy tale based on a true story. A tale about the present-day life of a warm, living House and the kindly Guardian Spirits who look after it while its owners are tossed about the seas. About the guests, the owners, interesting events, neighbours, and friends. With characters and dialogue. What do you think—would you enjoy reading a fairy tale like that yourselves and retelling it to your children at bedtime? I’ve never written fairy tales before. And I have no idea where, amid my frantic writing schedule, I’m supposed to find time for them too... . But, damn it, we’re already fired up by the idea and inventing funny characters. The young sailors are recalling all sorts of stories, so it ought to turn out nice and lively. We’re also editing a video series about how one utterly astonishing family of cruisers suddenly decided to leave the beaten track and dash off in search of the ghost islands of the southern latitudes, and then watch two oceans collide at Cape Horn. We’ve already put together four episodes. By the time we reach the Horn, there should be about 10. So we’ll meet again on our YouTube channel too. Subscribe now, so we don’t lose one another later. www.youtube.com/c/travelyfamily . . .. .. . .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. ... .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. . . .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. . .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. . There, I’ve revealed all our secrets. I’d better get on the radio and fire this dispatch into space before the strict censorship embodied by the cap ruins half my revelations. . .. .. .. . How are your holidays going, friends? Thank you, dear ones, for your warm and interesting comments, which Mum patiently forwards to us. Thank you for the likes and shares. And thank you in general for being with us on this journey which, let’s be honest, isn’t easy in places. We send hugs and cherish every one of you! And if what we write inspires you, please share it with your friends. Let life become more interesting for them too!