Expedition Housekeeping. 14 Days in the Ocean

Expedition housekeeping. 14 days in the ocean. Today we crossed 28 degrees south latitude; we haven’t ventured this far south before. When we were approaching Easter Island, which lies on the 27th parallel, it was warmer. Now the air is cold even during the day, carried by the southerly wind straight from Antarctica. And we’re heading south, of course. So we’re battling our way upwind. Bucking and heeling, with more bruises to show for it. We’re steadily preparing for the cold. We moved the shower inside the heads and put away the long deck hose. Even indoors, it’s no longer hot when you wash. The other day, the captain permanently sealed the leaking wheelhouse window—just filled the entire perimeter with sealant, as if we’ll never need it again. The other window is next in line; we haven’t opened it for two days anyway. We’re thinking about how to insulate the windows; we’ll fashion secondary glazing out of polyethylene and duct tape. The heater is running, and an inventory of the deepest recesses of the lockers has revealed that our young sailor has the most warm clothing—everything from a down jacket to two pairs of nylon ski trousers. Nastya comes second, while the captain and I trail along at the back. We’ll dress in layers, like German POWs. I can’t remember—did I really come to the yacht in April without a jacket? The warmest footwear we’ve found is trainers. Oh, the captain has leather sailing boots, and there are also three pairs of size 43 rubber boots. Andryukha says the children and I will dive straight into them wearing our trainers and walk around like that. ..,, .. ,, ,, .., ..,,.. ..,, .. ,, ,, .., ..,,.. ..,, .. ,, ,, .., ..,,.. ..,, .. ,, ,, .., ..,,.. ..,, .. ,, ,, .., ..,,.. ..,, .. ,, ,, .., .., ,.. ..,, .. ,, ,, .., ..,,.. ..,, .. ,, ,, .., ..,,.. ..,, .. ,, ,, .., ..,,.. ..,, .. ,, ,, .., ..,,.. ..,, .. ,, ,, .., ..,,.. ..,, .. ,, ,, .., ..,, .. Why do you think we’re preparing for winter in earnest? Because that’s it—the tropical paradise is behind us. Right now, at 37 degrees south at our longitude, it’s +12°C. The fourth day of summer, at a latitude equivalent to the Mediterranean. Somehow they’ve got their weather all mixed up down here. The papayas are still snapping at our heels. Five left; we cooked the rest. Not one of them made it into papaya salad—they have to be green for salad. The bananas have begun to ripen. If we make banana jam as well, we’ll never have enough sugar. And drying them is unlikely to work—it’s a bit too cold and overcast. Yesterday the wind speed wandered between 17 and 25 miles per hour, and the windvane couldn’t work out how to hold our course: the sail area set was too little for 17 knots and too much for 25. We had to hand-steer; Nastyka sat outside at the helm for a heroic four-hour watch, almost until midnight, bundled up in jackets and socks to our ears. And we still have to climb about 20 degrees farther south; it’s certainly no scorcher down there. Looks like ours will turn into a long-distance winter sporting expedition. Brrr... even thinking about it makes me cold. While watching a film about Captain Cook, we discovered that we’re following practically the same route as he did, only two to four degrees farther east. In 1769, Cook dashed off from Tahiti in search of the vast southern continent—that was his secret mission. He reached the Roaring Forties, then headed west to discover New Zealand and Australia’s east coast. He decided then that his Endeavour would not withstand the ordeal of the Roaring Forties. But our Lady Mary will have to—what choice does she have? ..,, .. ,, ,, .., ..,,.. ..,, .. ,, ,, .., ..,,.. ..,, .. ,, ,, .., ..,,.. ..,, .. ,, ,, .., ..,,.. ..,, .. ,, ,, .., ..,,.. ..,, .. ,, ,, .., .., ,.. ..,, .. ,, ,, .., ..,,.. ..,, .. ,, ,, .., ..,,.. ..,, .. ,, ,, .., ..,,.. ..,, .. ,, ,, .., ..,,.. ..,, .. ,, ,, .., ..,,.. ..,, .. ,, ,, .., ..,, .. There are 203 miles left to the first point of our scientific expedition, Wachusett Reef, and 503 miles as the crow flies to Maria Theresa Reef on the 37th parallel, but we’re sailing in zigzags, calling at every phantom island, so we may cover three times as much... Ah, we’ll be celebrating our sailor’s birthday on the 37th parallel. God willing, we’ll get lucky with the weather, because a storm is brewing there just in time for our arrivickle. We were afraid it might develop into a hurricane and were already working out where to scarper from it. Nope, the forecast says it won’t develop that way. That’s a relief. Crew morale is good and inversely proportional to the size of the waves and the strength of the headwind. Current coordinates: 29°S, 151.11°W. Hugs to you, friends! Send us comments—they make us feel warmer.