The fair wind, as if bedevilled, cannot find our sails
“Maybe I should go and wash my face. Think it might help?” “Well, give it a try. I washed mine; it didn’t help.”
A nauseating morning with 20 knots of wind right on the nose. It’s +8°C in the yaranga at 8 a.m., and +10°C at ten. Admirable consistency. Outside the yaranga it was around +7°C during the night—already warmer than with a southerly wind. How we long to reach at least the 40th parallel. Soon it will whip up a high sea and the wind will kick in at 30 knots—then things will be absolutely delightful.
Every now and then, you think of Bellingshausen’s Vostok and Mirny. How utterly fed up they must have been, wandering around the Antarctic latitudes for months on end in wooden tubs! They would retreat to the forties to dry out and warm up, then head back to Antarctica. You remember the great seafarers, reassure yourself that compared with them we have a health resort aboard, and once again you can face life with a smile on your cold face. At least the steam from our breath isn’t turning to ice, so that’s something.
As the wind strengthens, we’ll be driven south again. But a westerly is due to blow during the night, and we hope to climb a little farther north by morning, only to meet another northerly and try to make east again. That’s how we’ll work our way along, step by step—down the two legs of the triangle instead of along the hypotenuse.
The Best Day Came Yesterday
The wind swung round to the west. There wasn’t much of it, of course, and we didn’t get very far north. Then came the one and only day we actually lived rather than merely endured. It was a gift from fate, almost like a day sailing round the world in the trade winds—apart from the temperature.
We dried out and washed down the yacht, played a board game, and watched figure skating over breakfast—not in the wheelhouse, with a view of the heaving ocean, but in the saloon, where almost nothing was heaving. We found ourselves in the saloon for an inspiring reason: after two weeks of bitter cold, the captain—like Mendeleev, at night, in a dream—came up with a solution for the heater. After standing the hardest night watch, by 7 a.m. we were already dismantling the sofa and the bulkhead in the wheelhouse. We teleported the table and cushions forward and set about sealing the exhaust pipe, which had holes in several places. Despite the hatch being flung wide open to clear the smoke, for once the boat became warm.
While the sealant was setting, sticking and burning in, Nastya sewed up the torn mizzen—the sail on the second mast—while the captain and I dropped the mainsail a couple of times and riveted some things on the boom. The young sailor emerged onto the deck to sunbathe with her face and fingertips; the rest of her remained hidden under her clothes. Leaning against the tender on the sunlit deck, she and I spent a long time dreaming about how we would come home.
Then a dense fog rolled in, with the sun breaking through here and there—and even a monochrome fogbow! The weather remained calm and smooth long enough for us to carry on cleaning and scrubbing mould from the walls. In some places it was simply appalling. But we managed to open the portlight in the aft cabin and rearrange the locker. And warm air was blowing out from under the table. For the first time in two weeks, the cabin did not resemble a damp, cold cellar.
Before dinner, I darned the young sailor’s woollen sock, while Nastya managed to fry breaded courgettes and make delicious buckwheat with onions and carrots. That was what it was like: the wonderful and so far only day out of eighteen when we lived instead of survived. If you ever find yourself in the Southern Ocean for a couple of months, you’ll understand that a day you can spend like this is the very best kind of day.
The Young Sailor’s Initiation
“Mum, for almost eight years I’ve been sailing on the yacht like a tourist. Now I want to feel useful. If I stand watch while you get some sleep, will that help?” “That’s exactly what will help!”
During the night Nastya and I worked the sails, then I carried on alone while Andrei caught up on sleep. And today the young sailor received her baptism at sea: she stood watch by herself until 2 a.m.! She woke me whenever the wind conditions changed.
The easy life ended today. The wind is right on the nose again. But the heater is running on its lowest setting. So we’ll get through it. Although 20–25 knots of wind on the nose is brutal. It’s almost impossible to write or hold on to a thought. We’re off to see what the latest forecast says. The previous one didn’t exactly come true. Personally, I’m finding this passage harder than any of the others. The young sailor and the captain are in fine spirits.
Strength of spirit to everyone! Only the things that come this hard take us to the next level. That’s what keeps us going )).
Dear people, thank you for your support in the comments, which our dear Sergey Yakubenko regularly sends to our satellite inbox. We also thank dear Yulia Galushina for publishing our chronicles on YouTube. Guys, you are the best shore team ever!
Special heartfelt thanks to everyone who contributes to our difficult expedition through YooMoney and PayPal
Hugs to you all! Where are we right now, how are we sailing, what are the weather and speed? Take a look under the Route tab.
It displays the track from the RockSTAR Iridium360 tracker supplied by MVS Telecom, the best company in the world. Transmitted by satellite from a point in the Southern Ocean: 46°54′ S, 179°04′ E.