How the Tahiti Rescue Service Wrote to Us. Day 91

How the Tahiti Rescue Service Wrote to Us. Day 91 And just like that, it’s winter. And south of the equator—just like that, it’s summer. We haven’t posted for a while. As soon as we caught scraps of mobile internet near land, we forgot that the website was waiting for news. And the first mate even fell ill from the joy of it all—apparently the tension had eased, and her body decided to relax. But when you’ve been in the ocean for three months, you can’t really relax; you have to get back in action. “I think I’ll have some foie gras with dried grapes, Andryusha,” I said, and proceeded grandly from the bed to the table, picking up a tin and a packet of raisins from a locker on the way. “Haha,” said Andryusha. “In our Soviet childhood, your glamorous foie gras went undercover as goose liver pâté.” “Yes, I remember... You rat, you won’t let me indulge my gourmet tastes.” The gourmet delicacy turned out to be salty and fatty, but definitely goose-livery enough. Outside the window, the peak of yet another Polynesian island drifted by, while the captain sorted through the holds, preparing equipment for repair and replacement once we finally reached where we wanted to be. Another ten items had been added to the 28 already on the repair list. The water-heater tank is ready to be thrown out. The poor thing had rusted right through and begun leaking water into the hold. This was one case where the broken freshwater pump worked in our favour: for the past few weeks, it has been switched on as needed by pressing a button in the galley. So only the water sitting in the hoses leaked out through the rusty tank. The freshwater tank itself was untouched. Now that would have been fun—all 400 litres pouring into the ocean after we had so painstakingly wrested them from the rain. Although it rains regularly, so there shouldn’t be another shortage. Andrei wrote to the agent in Tahiti, requesting emergency entry, and listed all the faults that needed fixing. The next day, the Tahiti rescue service replied: “Guys, you’ve requested an emergency stop—do you need rescuing out there?” Now that’s what I call people doing their jobs. Unlike on the glorious atoll of Kiritimati. “No,” we said. “We’ll make some repairs here by an uninhabited island in the Cook Islands, then come to you to buy up spare parts and do the job properly.” “Okay then, we’ll pass your request on to the next stage.” We’re waiting to hear what they say at the next stage. How many days will they allow us to enter? Will we be able to go ashore freely? We’re repairing the mainsail. It’s a nightmare, guys. The leech is crumbling right in our hands. Pull a little harder and there it is—a hole. The two of us are patching it, trying not even to breathe on the product of our labours. We’ll have to get out the old spare mainsail; perhaps it’s in better condition. Although, given its venerable age, we can’t expect much. And we still have another three months to sail across the ocean. With conditions growing more difficult along the way, just the way we like it. But we won’t think about that now; we’ll think about it later. For the moment, we’re trying to send this post over the mobile network rather than by satellite, so the photo should come through more nicely. We’re carrying out a thorough inventory of our provisions. The only things we’ll need to buy are tinned food—for variety—and fresh fruit and vegetables. For some reason, we’re dreaming of guava—not mango, not papaya, but guava. Tahitians, when is guava season there? Hugs to everyone, and thank you for your support in the comments. We can now even read them directly, without having them forwarded by satellite. We thank Natalia D., Irina and Yupi, Sergei G., Vladimir D., Marina K., Alexander P., Nikolai A., Alexander Sh., Dmitry S. from Leningrad Region, Sergei K., Alexander U., as well as the owners of cards ending in 6263 and 2858, who are keeping the crew’s spirits up on this difficult journey via YooMoney and PayPal