Cape Horn, Passage No. 2

Sent via satellite link. It seems the post did not make it to the website because of an anomaly in the Drake Passage. We are trying again. Chronicles of the rendezvous with Fyodor Konyukhov at Cape Horn . Today, 9 May, near Cape Horn, aboard Lady Mary beneath an enormous Russian ensign, we have a triple celebration. We found the second yacht in the flotilla. That’s one. We have the best friends in the world: every hour they sent us the coordinates of Fyodor Konyukhov’s boat and the flagship yacht Australis, allowing us to work out the plan of action to within a mile, without any communication with the flotilla . That’s two. And third! We rounded the great and terrible Cape Horn for the second time. From west to east. In order During the night, at anchor in Martial Bay, 15 miles from Cape Horn, the wind was blowing 32 knots. In the morning, all six crew members collectively decided to go around Cape Horn before it started blowing 60 knots. We connected via satellite four times over the course of half a day. Our friends sent us the coordinates of every possible participant in the “Catch Fyodor Konyukhov in the Drake Passage” campaign. Evening of 8 May Victory Day, how far away it was from us—Lev Leshchenko’s voice from the speaker sent shivers down our spines. And we were weighing anchor. “But now we need just one victory,” sang the speaker. Having calculated the trajectories and read the minds of the captains of the other two yachts from afar, we headed out into the Drake Passage. And we called it right. At one point, the AIS began beeping to say it had spotted a target. It turned out to be the second of the three yachts, Sarah W. Vorwerk. Hooray! we cried, grabbing the VHF. The connection was patchy, so we agreed to make contact again once we reached open water. Course set for the Great Cape! Cape Horn . In the Drake Passage The yacht began to be tossed about. Wind 30 knots, gusting up to 40. The swell began to heave, and being out of practice, some of us felt seasick. But somehow the powers above got wind of the fact that this was no ordinary day, but a great holiday, and started handing out gifts. Clear skies and shafts of sunlight piercing the clouds were the best of them. And there was Sarah too, her white sail close to the cliffs against a backdrop of foaming surf. Sailing gently in 30 knots of wind after lying at anchor was harder than it had been after two months in the Pacific in 40–45 knots. But overall—hooray! On the heels of Sarah, whose captain, Henk, has lived here for years and knows every nook and cranny, we made a dash to land on Horn Island itself, see the plinth with the albatross monument and get the coolest stamps in our passports. But in those seas, even big steel Sarah could not anchor and put people ashore, so we followed them towards another anchorage. Our Russian ensign flies above the flag of the Geographical School ; a hole gapes in its scarlet stripe, the treacherous mark left by a shroud off Cape Horn. We approach a bay sheltered from northerly winds. Sarah’s red hull is now adorned with foul-weather gear of the same colour, worn by her Russian team. Music! Ceremonial music! The guys are greeting us with the march Farewell of Slavianka. I march by the anchor windlass in gleeful little hops, while the rest of the crew salute from the stern. Tum-tum-ta-tum-turuduru-tum-tum! Pam-paaaam! Pa-ba-baaam! It rang out across the southernmost reaches of Patagonia. Well, in short, it was solemn enough to bring tears to our eyes. Yacht Sarah Sarah’s captain, Henk, put a stop to our attempt to bring both crews together aboard Sarah to celebrate Victory Day. It seems that the moment he pictured another six people arriving to celebrate Victory Day with the seven Russians already aboard, he went straight onto the defensive... “They’ll tear my whole boat apart,” Henk must have thought, saying that there was not enough room on his 19-metre boat for the whole gang. And he wasn’t exactly raring to ferry the guys over to us in his dinghy either. Yet there would have been room for everyone on our 12-metre boat... ... We agreed with the guys to raise our toasts over the VHF. And it was sooo heartfelt. With wartime songs, a guitar, exchanges of news and good wishes, and then more songs sung in chorus. Yacht Lady Mary Our flotilla’s flagship, Australis, is somewhere near the Diego Ramírez Islands, the geographically southernmost point of South America, escorting Fyodor Konyukhov’s boat. Tomorrow a serious storm will begin, with winds of up to 80 knots. They need to reach a safe place in time to transfer Fyodor Filippovich from the boat onto the yacht. We, meanwhile, will ride it out here, in a bay in the Cape Horn archipelago, 10 miles from the great and terrible cape. We are waiting for news from Oscar Konyukhov so that we can coordinate our next steps. By the next post, we will know what the storm brought and what the plan is from there. Birds at the Great Cape Once back ashore, after returning from the voyage, we wrote a report about this little expedition in great and fascinating company, with photographs and details: Rendezvous with Fyodor Konyukhov at Cape Horn . A huge thank-you to our shore team, our friends Dmitry and Irina Davydov, for news from the mainland, and to the wonderful Dmitry Samoilov for keeping his finger on the pulse of the expedition and promptly relaying information aboard Lady Mary. Thanks to you, we found the other yachts. Happy Great Victory Day, friends! Cape Horn Birds at the Great Cape Evening of 8 May Yacht Sarah Yacht Lady Mary