The Storm Is Closing In. Southern Ocean, Day 23

The Southern Ocean is wonderful! Just like Matroskin in Prostokvashino: you don’t even need to buy a fridge. Two and a half crates of apples are sitting there as fresh as the day they were picked. And there are even 6 fresh tomatoes, a watermelon, pears, beetroot, peppers, and a few other odds and ends. It’s +11°C inside the yacht in the morning—bliss—and everything keeps without a fridge. The cheese, by the way, is still alive too. And the crew, along with the cheese, are more alive than ever. — Hoist the sails! — Reef the sails! — Douse the sails! — We’re changing tack—catch the saucepan. Was that soup that just went all over the floor? Pasta? Oh, good. We do schoolwork and watch educational videos. Judging by the topics she’s covered, our young sailor is already nearing the end of third grade. She has glued together a rectangular parallelepiped, multiplies three-digit numbers by single-digit ones, and cracks problems before Mum has finished reading the question. In our spare time, we play board games. And tomorrow, all of this—apart from the fridge—will come to a temporary end :). The Storm Is Near A low-pressure system is approaching. The forecast promises 40 knots of wind for almost two days. What will actually hit us is not yet clear. For the past three weeks, gusts have been 5–7 knots stronger than forecast. We’re cooking pre-storm borscht and wondering whether to spend the cyclone hove-to or keep going under a scrap of jib, since the storm is coming from astern. We’ve headed farther northeast to get at least a little way clear of the main mayhem. We’ll tell you how it turns out. I’m dreading what new leaks the big waves might reveal. The mast has started leaking again—we still haven’t managed to seal it once and for all. Salty drops are falling on the freshly washed settee. The windows add to our woes. The entire window unit needs replacing, frame and all. Because even duct tape doesn’t help—can you imagine? Salt water still seeps in through the gaps. We’ve put nappies under the portholes in the bedroom. What else can we do? We’ll see how our repairs—and my love of beauty and cosiness—stand up to all this. Breakdowns Yesterday, the engine unexpectedly refused to start. Just the thing with a storm approaching. The captain took the lockers apart and fixed everything within an hour. The starter solenoid had seized; the captain “unseized” it by gently tapping the casing with the handle of a hammer, and once again we were fully prepared. Then the rudder-angle sensor broke, so this morning we took apart the locker beneath the marital bed. Another hour to an hour and a half, and everything was working again. If only we could deal with the leaks and the wind instrument just as briskly. Ours has started working two days on, two days off. For two days it reports the weather on Mars, and for two days it shows the wind direction and speed as it should. We’re wondering which days will fall during the storm—working days or days off. Otherwise, we’ll have to ask you how strong the wind is here; you can see it on the map from the Iridium tracker, can’t you? Right here: “Route.” You can follow the storm and Lady Mary inside it there. Weather and People — It’s not bad out there—warm. Warmer than Antarctica, anyway, — the captain cheerfully assured us on returning from the deck. The southerly wind has knocked another five degrees off the overall heat. So most of you and we are now almost in the same climate zone—it’s like February in the Moscow Region here ). Kerguelen is 6 days away, and Australia is still about a month away. Maybe Australia doesn’t exist at all? Australians, give us a sign :). It’s already blowing 25 knots, gusting up to 30. So, folks, keep your fingers crossed for us. I’m off to stow everything that might go flying. First and foremost, I think we’ll be saving the borscht. Friends, thank you for contributing to the expedition’s shipboard kitty via PayPal and Yandex Money Many thanks to Ivan R. from St Petersburg, Vladimir Z. from Kyiv, and Lyudmila A. from Vladivostok. You motivate us not to give in to the difficulties! Hugs to everyone—once again from 44 degrees south—and thank you for your comments and letters. We love reading them, and we love you too!