The Great Cape Horn Is Drawing Near 3 February Cape Horn is still more than 1,000 miles away, but we are already beginning to work out our strategy for the approach. To do this, several times a day we update the weather forecast from at least three sources—GFS, ECMWF, and PWG/PWE—as well as the Mercator and HyCom current charts. The latter are fairly large files, so we download them less often. At present, the forecast for our approach to the Horn calls for gale-force winds from northerly quarters, so we are considering revising our strategy and “gaining height” by heading a couple of degrees farther north. We are still carrying the main staysail and fore staysail (two fore-and-aft sails, one ahead of the mainmast and the other ahead of the foremast), with assistance from the engine. Tomorrow we will enter a zone of calms, and after that we will finally be off under sail. We have once again crossed into 56°S and are trying to climb a little closer to the warmer latitudes.
Snow and the Horizon 4 February 3 a.m. It is snowing. A thin layer lies on the deck and does not melt. It is good that it does not melt. It means the hull is well insulated and the heat is not escaping outside. It is a comfortable +21°C on the bridge. Dawn broke half an hour ago. We have not yet moved ship’s time forward by one time zone, and we are already approaching the next. We are almost two hours behind.
At noon today we will bring it into line by one hour, and in a couple of days by another. I feel sleepy, but the thought that it is snowing leads on to the possibility of ice. I peer intently at the radar screen, trying to pick out icebergs among the shifting blips. No luck. I scan the horizon—seems clear. We carry on. In an hour I will go and wake Dan, and it will be his turn to search for ice ahead. I wash down a yawn with the last of the warm tea from my thermos. I can definitely hold out for another hour.
Night Watches 10 p.m., ship’s time. The time zone of Pitcairn Island and Los Angeles. The start of my watch. I am used to this routine now; night watches are no strain. Almost six hours’ sleep after my watch and another two or three before it keep me feeling alert all day. I sip freshly brewed green tea from my thermos and look forward to the pizza waiting in the oven, thoughtfully left there especially for me by our cook, Seryoga.
Today was a calm day, something that does not happen very often in the 50s latitudes. At last we managed to replace the staysail halyard, which had chafed halfway through in the upper block. We tidied up the foremast pinrail (the second photo shows roughly what it is). We shifted all the halyards and the jib downhaul (the rope used to haul down a fore-and-aft sail) onto their proper belaying pins. In anticipation of more stormy weather, we rigged a backup sheet for the main staysail (the fore-and-aft sail set forward from the mainmast). Preparing to set sail in the morning, we set up the windward running backstays for the mainmast and foremast (tensioned the wires that support both masts sideways and aft. May the sailors forgive me for such a free translation of nautical terms).
We sorted through a cubic metre of assorted ropes inherited with the ship. We now have three enormous bags of rope to throw away.
Dan said today, “It’s good that we have passed all the icebergs we have encountered over the past few days to starboard. It means we are still far enough north and should not stray into an ice field. Besides, the northerly wind gives us a chance that the ice will not be driven down onto us.” Nevertheless, the radar watch is kept with particular care, especially during the hours of darkness.
Friends, are you following the schooner Elsi, our cap, and Captain Gavrilov on the map? Our valiant tracker, Rockstar Iridium 360, is plotting our route: https://www.iridium360.ru/guest/journey/8db92642