“You’re my heroic woman, aren’t you?” The captain seems to be half stating, half asking. “I don’t know...” I suddenly sniff through a nose gone wet. Bundled into foul-weather gear, I’m sitting on the slippery deck, clipped to a shroud with a carabiner. My hair is whipping out from under my hood, the peak has slipped down over my eyebrows, and I’m posed like Spider-Man. Forty-five knots of wind, and the yacht has once again bounced off the sort of wave best watched on television. ...Some heroic woman I am. I’m as ordinary as they come. “Want your mum?” Andryukha hits the nail on the head. He probably wants his mum too. Look at him in his wetsuit—he’s about to dangle behind the stern and replace a cable on the windvane self-steering gear. The thin metal couldn’t withstand this kind of dance. The electric autopilot can’t cope at all, and the boat is yawing off course and slamming headlong into giant waves. We have to repair the windvane right now, without waiting for the bad weather to pass. Damn storm—it was as if it hadn’t been in the forecast at all. Thirty-five knots were forecast, but not a word about a steady 45 and gusts of 50. I pull myself together and lower the captain over the stern on a winch. “Ooh! The water’s nice and warm!” Lady Mary flies off a wave, dunking the captain almost to his neck. “Hold the cable!” This would be the perfect time to film—the waves are incredible. But the mere thought of going to fetch the camera makes me feel even sicker. I reclip the carabiner, swallow the lump in my throat, and fit the new cable into the top of Iron Felix. That’s what we call our windvane self-steering gear; out in the ocean, we couldn’t do without it. The repair is completed, and nobody is washed overboard. We leave only a scrap of jib set and fly still deeper into the inhospitable Roaring Forties. I doubt I’ll ever want to set off on another expedition like this... How many times have I thought that now? And so began our first storm, on the fourth day of our Indian Ocean passage from South Africa to Australia.
The situation aboard. 28 January
The waves are battering us from every direction. All the African dust has been washed away, revealing new minor leaks around the windows. The places we resealed are holding firm, but those that never leaked before are now trickling salt water down the repaired lining. On top of that, all the bouncing has worked the forehatch loose, and a couple of buckets’ worth of brine has spilled onto the girls’ beds. Luckily, nobody sleeps there during a passage. Nobody except Bunny and Teddy. By around ten, the saloon was brightened by the young sailor’s cheerful little face and the sad face of the second mate, whom, thanks to our friend Tanya, we now call none other than Nastyushka the Gigglebox. We unanimously conclude that it’s only day four and we’re already utterly fed up. There are at least ten times as many days still ahead. We’re holding a south-easterly course. We’ve decided not to follow the 37th parallel via Amsterdam Island, but to sail along a great-circle route (guys, if you know what that is, tell us in the comments). Our likely stop will be the Kerguelen Islands, which lie at 49 degrees south. They are Antarctic territories claimed by France back in the days of the vigorous medieval search for Terra Australis Incognita—the Unknown Southern Land, or, put simply, Antarctica. Antarctica, as we remember, was discovered somewhat later. And not by the French, Spanish, or Portuguese, but by our very own Fabian Gottlieb von Bellingshausen and Mikhail Lazarev aboard the sloops Vostok and Mirny, exactly 200 years ago, on 28 January 1820. And so, together with the storm, we marked this epoch-making event. I can’t even remember what festive food we ate that day. Plums with mangoes and, I think, rice with mushroom gravy. Festive enough. In honour of the anniversary, we finally listened to and watched all the WhatsApp messages that had poured in before we set out into the Indian Ocean but that we hadn’t managed to get through amid the bustle. Friends, we’ll reply from Australia—thank you so much!
Indian Ocean, day five. 29 January
The storm has moved on, leaving only the wildly exuberant waves that won’t let us open the hatches. So it’s stuffy and, in places, unpleasant inside the boat. The wind is 20–30 knots (up to 15 metres per second), which is considerable, but bearable now. We’re on a broad reach. And today we have another celebration: confirmation has arrived that the land of kangaroos has graciously granted us a visa! That’s exactly how it’s worded—“granted.” What a weight off our shoulders. That very morning I’d already been working out how to ask the Russian Geographical Society to write to the Australian visa centre requesting assistance in obtaining visas for a Russian sailing expedition. It wasn’t necessary. Hooray! A one-year multiple-entry visa. 600 dollars for the four of us. The young sailor insisted on a celebratory dinner. By general vote, we approved the festive menu: burritos, tomato sauce made from the fresh tomatoes that urgently need saving, and, of course, pasta. For dessert, a fruit salad from Laduska. I think a magnificent dinner like that will do nicely for celebrating the discovery of Antarctica as well. We know from the polar explorers that yesterday there were celebrations at every Antarctic station. And probably important guests too. The President of Estonia, for example, visited a station a little earlier—even before our departure from Africa. Then I started writing a chapter about the history of the discovery of Antarctica; we wanted to attach it here. But this is already getting long, so shall we leave it until next time? Friends, thank you for being with us! Follow our progress under the Route tab, where our tireless satellite tracker from MVS Telecom (Iridium) transmits our track, speed, and even the weather. We’re eagerly awaiting your comments, which will soon wing their way into our inbox. Our thanks to our dependable shore team—Sergey Yakubenko, Pyotr Rogov, and Katya Rogova—for keeping the expedition’s electronic and information rear covered. Thank you to everyone supporting our morale via PayPal and Yandex Money . Ivan G. from Irkutsk and Olga L. from Moscow—you too are now truly part of our team. Hugs to everyone from position 38° 30’ 23° 41’. May you all make new discoveries!