Do Good and Cast It into the Sea. Indian Ocean, Day 48

We’re figuring out the ins and outs of entering Australia. The forecast is this: 6 litres of beans, 5 litres of peas and the same amount of lentils, as well as brown rice, quinoa, millet, dried meat, tinned fish and, God forbid, 5 kg of buckwheat will be leaving our boat either for the ocean depths or for disposal in the land of kangaroos. The same fate awaits the herbarium specimens, corals, crab and turtle shells, a seal tusk, Antarctic seaweed, seashells and stones patiently gathered by the young sailor and me for our collection all over the world. Of all these losses, this is the one she mourns most bitterly. Even the wooden figurines from Easter Island and the Marquesas, peacock feathers from Africa and God knows what else may be subject to biosecurity control. We haven’t the faintest idea how to save all these treasures from either the sea or the inspectors who will come aboard the yacht looking for them. About 20 years ago, provisions such as grains could be sealed until the blessed day of departure from Australia. But judging by the sources available to us, that option no longer exists. So we’ll have to surrender all our riches to the authorities or send them down into the ocean depths. If we ate nothing else, the problematic provisions would feed the entire crew for two months. Our stocks of powdered milk—enough for about four months—are also very much in doubt. Given the rouble exchange rate and Australian prices, that is a sizeable hole in the budget. Attention, question! Guys, if you’ve entered Australia by yacht in the past few years, please tell us how all this went for you and whether there was any way to preserve—by sealing it, for example—everything acquired through back-breaking toil. We have 4–5 days to receive an answer. After that, that’s it: inspection and retribution :). Manufacturing defect That is exactly what I call this latest carry-on, which happened overnight with the second intermediate shroud—the diagonal. For the past couple of weeks, its predecessor has already been replaced by a strong length of Dyneema line. This diagonal broke in the same place—through a section of cast metal more than 1 cm thick (!). For now, there isn’t even any way to remove it; climbing the mast in these seas would be suicide. It’s blowing about 20 knots, with gusts of 30 overnight. Waves are leaping over the coachroof, their crests foaming beautifully. We’re sailing under one sail—the genoa—making about 5 knots. The Sea Is Stirring—One The young sailor and I put our fresh oil paintings in the aft cabin to dry on the narrow shelves beneath the portholes. Today, after being tossed about all night, we have two masterpieces in the genre of “oil in brine.” Because even closed windows don’t entirely protect us from the blows of the elements. At least it isn’t pouring onto the bed. We put nappies under the windows to keep you-know-what dry and comfortable. We moved the paintings beneath the wheelhouse windscreen. I wonder how long they’ll last there and when they’ll fall down? The watermaker won’t run in these seas, so we’ve introduced water rationing. There is veeery little left. The waves are pounding the hull, and for the second day we’ve been sailing closer to the wind than we’d like. And tonight, an easterly headwind will arrive and we’ll start tacking. We’ll be forced north, which will reduce our quality of life and delay our arrival on land. The liveliest member of the crew is the young sailor. She’s learning her times tables and enthusiastically keeping a weather observation diary, which does not stop her from trying with all her might to skive off lessons. The captain grows gloomier with every breakdown; I’m keeping my fingers crossed that land happens before our patience runs out. Members of the Russian diaspora are writing from Australia to say they’re waiting for us. It feels sooo good! And it almost cancels out the discomfort of anticipating our meeting with the inspectors and the prospect of parting with half our provisions. And then this stupid coronavirus is tightening the screws. Even Tom Hanks—whose films, for some reason, we keep coming across on this passage—flew to Australia and fell ill.... “That’s the way it is, would you believe it. Sometimes it’s no laughing matter...” Incidentally, three years before us, Tom Hanks and his wife visited Bellingshausen Station. Rather symbolic, the way his path keeps crossing ours, isn’t it ))? God grant him good health. An optimistic post That was the “Wail of a Pessimist” section. It’s over. Apart from that, everything is fine, guys. We’re moving towards our cherished goal at 100 miles a day. And now it’s—hooray!—exactly 500 miles to shore. Everyone is safe and healthy, the boat is still underway and continues to protect us from the vagaries of the weather. The book is being written at a snail’s pace, but it is being written! During the passage, two major articles have been successfully submitted, written in storm conditions, and a third is on the way. The satellite connection is more stable again, and the laptop is still hanging on, so we have navigation. We can’t see the wind speed, but we can infer it from the boat’s speed, the forecast and the wave height—once again, losing the wind instrument keeps our brains sharp. Just in case, the captain has refreshed his knowledge of working with a sextant. So whatever happens, we have our astrolabe to hand )). And one more reason to rejoice—hooray! In 5 days, our expedition will set foot on its sixth continent—Australia—the only one Lady Mary has not yet visited (and neither have we, along with her). So we’ll get a new tick in the record book: every continent on the planet visited. On that cheerful note, let us say that today we crossed our beloved 37th parallel and entered the 36th. Wishing everyone optimism and dreams come true. Hang in there! We love you and thank you from the bottom of our hearts for your comments! A fresh batch has just arrived. Thank you for not letting us lose heart. You’re the very best. You can see Lady Mary on your own screen in real time right here: “Route”. . This is a greeting from the Iridium satellite tracker. Elephants How about we stick a fun photo on the front page? You’re probably bored of looking at the same boat in the ocean over and over again, aren’t you? Let it be real wild African elephants from Addo National Park. Look how sweet they are :).