22 May. The morning before the storm was clear and almost calm. The captain and I get dressed to set more sail. I pull on a bright orange jacket. The captain says: “Your jacket really is beautiful.” “Yes,” I say, “very practical. The body will be visible from a long way off.” Keeping a straight face, the captain replies: “Indeed, very practical.”
During the day, Nastya gets ready to go on deck to reef. Dad advises her to put on my jacket. “Yes, Nastenka, it’s very practical. It’s warm, and if anything happens, they’ll spot the body from a long way off,” Mum cheerfully calls after her. “Thanks, Mummy, that’s exactly what I wanted to hear right now.”
And Nastya steps out into the open space of the stormy ocean.
Cyclones work seven days a week at this time of year: one flew past yesterday, and another was forecast for today. The good news is that it will not be as severe as expected. Winds of 35–40 knots. It is quite fascinating to experience the wind shifting in the middle of a cyclone first-hand. For half a day you run downwind in one direction; then it suddenly starts blowing at a 90-degree angle to its previous direction, while the swell keeps coming from the same quarter. Sailing downwind, you now take that same swell not on the beam but on the bow. It is even more delightful when the wind shifts farther and starts blowing against the less agile swell. In short, we have been bounced around quite enough in the boat over the past few days. Despite starting our ninth day at sea, we are still getting seasick, sometimes to the point of nausea. The captain remains invulnerable.
Cooking requires the skills of a stunt performer. It is always a pleasure to discover batter and sauces running down the walls. How do they even get there when you are stirring them in a container? Soup, of course, is not on the menu. But we have only had instant noodles once. We get by on Olivier salad, potatoes, buckwheat, and pasta with cheese. We still have plenty of fresh vegetables and fruit, so salads and fruit desserts never run out.
A popular dish among the crew is called zavertukhi. It is a sort of burrito filled with whatever happens to be at hand: mushrooms, peppers fried with garlic and onion, tomatoes, cheese, ajvar sauce, beans, of course, avocado, and the like. The main thing is to add plenty of cheese. Wrap it up and put it in a ridged frying pan to toast. Lids go flying, so while it cooks you literally have to keep your hand on the lid.
A little more about everyday life. Those of a nervous disposition are advised not to read on. Because we are short of sunlight, battery charge, and therefore fresh water from the watermaker, this is our ninth day without a shower; we make do with washing selected areas as necessary )). It is a good thing it is cold—in hot weather we would have to rinse ourselves down every day, no two ways about it.
23 May 2021. The storm came from the north, so the wind is warm. At night it was about 10 degrees above zero outside and around 13 inside the boat. We are not turning on the heater yet; over the course of the day, our breathing alone raises the temperature to an acceptable +18. Yesterday, during the calm before the storm, it was sunny and quiet enough for us to crack open the forehatch. If the yacht is not aired, mould will start creeping up the walls. There is already condensation, and I am not at all happy about it.
By nightfall, the wind had picked up. We did not wait for it to reach 40 knots; we hove to under the mizzen. So we rode out the Force 8–9 storm hove-to, as safe as houses, drifting only 9.5 miles south overnight. Since morning, it has been blowing the now-familiar 20–25 knots, gusting to 30, and we are sailing under the mizzen and a reefed genoa.
The spirit of education hangs in the air aboard. Nastya is up to her ears in algebra, while Lada is working her way through her summer reading list and preparing to catch up on the week of school she missed. I am writing my first book at full speed because the deadline is in July. At the same time, a draft of the second book is taking shape. That one will be easier, because I have a clearer idea of what to do with it.
Staring at a laptop and hammering away at the keys all day in four-metre seas is not much fun. Sometimes I want to lay my head on the laptop lid and howl for a while. So that is what Nastya and I do. Adding to the joy is the fact that even when the wind dies away completely—and often instantly—the swell remains high. The lump in my throat never goes away.
Plans for the future
In our spare moments, we are actively discussing speeding up our circumnavigation and finishing in Tahiti as early as October. We have decided to fly past New Zealand and make for closed Tahiti on the off chance, only to be sent away a couple of days later to wherever we are allowed to go. And by March we need to be in Russia, having sailed under our own steam as close to its borders as possible.
This plan involves several non-stop passages lasting two to three months in unfavourable winds, with very few short stops. I think this will be the hardest ordeal of our voyage. After all, our previous two-month non-stop passages were rewarded with long periods of rest near shore—at least a month. But now one will follow straight after another.
From Sydney, we will most likely head for the Equator, passing south of New Zealand through our beloved Roaring Forties, at 48° S. The plan is still rough, and it contains even more variables than it did before Covid, but the inevitability of carrying it out hangs over us like the sword of Damocles.
On that cheerful note, we send our love to you, our dear friends and readers! It is still interesting to follow our track in real time under the Route tab on the website.
Thank you so much for your moral and financial support. We look forward to your comments like a breath of the outside world amid the damp ocean. We send our love to our shore representative, Sergei Yakubenko, who is always ready to help. Our enormous thanks to Vladimir P. from Moscow for topping up the expedition’s ship’s kitty through paypal.me/travelyfamily . We also thank Yanson_m for contributing to the development of Russian yachting through sobe.ru/na/travelyfamily . We appreciate every one of you enormously.
Tasmania is 686 miles away on our rhumb-line course. This report was sent via satellite from 42°25′ S, 130°53′ E. We are expecting another storm on Tuesday.