Australia Is Close! Indian Ocean Passage, Day 46.

March 10 is Artist’s Day, the young sailor and I decided, and we settled down to paint in oils. Lada produced a funny ginger cat, while I painted an Impressionist bouquet—almost Monet, only different. And that was half the day gone. The coast is so close now that it is hard to believe. And apparently we are not the only ones who cannot believe it. There are still no ships, either on the instruments or on the horizon. We have been sailing all alone for more than a month now. In an hour or two, we will dip below 700 miles (1,300 km). It is music to our ears! When a three-digit number appeared on the monitor, our spirits started to rise, but then we immediately remembered the deadlines we had set ourselves before heading out into the ocean. The book is not finished (though it is getting closer to the end), the photos are not fully sorted, and there are no posts prepared in advance. And the films are not finished either (the main MacBook has become our chartplotter and cannot handle two demanding programs running at once). So what, I ask you, have we been doing here for the second month running? )) Expedition Food We still have food by the cartload, but we do not feel like eating any of it. It turned out we had not stocked up on enough white flour before departure, and the wholemeal flour is not inspiring anyone to feats of culinary ingenuity. For dinner today, Nastya is making pasta with spinach, nuts and cream. It sounds tasty; we shall see. I am also thinking of frying some pumpkin with garlic instead of making rissoles. Although there will be vinaigrette salad as well. In short, we are amusing ourselves with meals based on tinned food and our limited supply of fresh vegetables. We still have half a crate of apples, half a sack of onions, and half a sack each of lemons and garlic. Eight potatoes and two pumpkins. We have to eat all of it before Australia, or they will seal it up—or, worse still, confiscate it at enormous expense. The captain fears that possibility too. On March 8, we recalled how we had celebrated previous International Women’s Days. One of our first March 8ths aboard the yacht was during a passage across the Mediterranean, when Andrey made us real paper tulips during his night watch. In 2016, it was on March 8 that we set out from the Canary Islands for West Africa, planning to head across the Atlantic from there. In 2018, the holiday was hot and Panamanian. But last March 8 found us in Antarctica. The night before, we had been fending off an iceberg that came right alongside Lady Mary. And in the morning Andrey came out on deck and said, “Look what a present I’ve made for you, Marinochka.” A neighbouring ice floe had obligingly remained alongside, and a seal was asleep on it, a metre from the deck. And this year’s holiday found us on passage once again. The Engine and Everything Else The sea remains smooth, and the wind is as quiet as a mouse. But even in these conditions, with every sail set except the jib, which is having a rest, we are still making 100 miles a day. The captain once again spent half the day in the engine room, up to his elbows in oil, just as he did on March 8. The engine seems to be working again. “Andryukha, you couldn’t have fixed the engine earlier on purpose, so we wouldn’t have to go to Kerguelen, could you?” I ask. The captain smiles and remains meaningfully silent. I’d bet anything that is exactly what happened! He simply did not fancy going back among the icebergs and freezing temperatures, so neither the engine nor the heater would let themselves be repaired. And now it is almost hot outside, +18°C—who needs a heater? Laundry, sunshine, rain, night watches, fog and a full moon. The yacht keeps luffing up and falling off; the wind is light but gusty, and nearly every night we have to make course corrections by hand. The other day, the radar detector suddenly started ringing and lights began flashing from three directions at once. It beeped for a full hour, but the horizon was clear. We decided that three submarines had caught up with us and were escorting us through this trackless ocean wilderness. While I was writing this post, the rain set in again, making everything feel gloomier. I wish we could reach land soon! Hugs to you, friends, and we wish you interesting weekdays and holidays! Thank you to everyone who is with us! Route A map showing our track in real time is waiting for you under the “Route” tab. Our Iridium satellite tracker records not only the boat and its route, but also wind speed, waves and the air temperature on our windowsill. Our thanks to MVS-Telecom for providing it.