And no sooner had we stretched out in the sunshine and hung up the freshly washed clothes to dry, no sooner had we scrubbed 80% of the boat, than the good times came to an end... Before they did, the captain managed to clean the most problematic areas of the yacht’s bottom, while the young sailor and I kept “shark watch”—making sure no one in the ocean ate the captain while he was engaged in his righteous labours. At least crocodiles don’t swim this far out.
Inspired by the captain, who was rinsing himself off with fresh water from a plastic bottle, Lada even washed on deck again for the first time in a year and a half. That’s how hot it had become at the autumnal 32nd parallel. The last time we were at this latitude was in November 2018, in the middle of the Pacific Ocean at 153° west longitude (we are now at 114° east).
Squalls
The calm ended during the night. Close to the continent, we expected busy shipping and once again took turns keeping watch. And then, 125 miles from shore, the first ship since our approach to the Crozet Islands finally appeared on AIS—and probably only the second of the entire passage from the Cape of Good Hope. Another passed astern during the day. And that was the sum total of the shipping traffic ). Things are pretty quiet here. Or is the quarantine already playing its part? The wind was gusty, and the boat could not hold a steady course. We had celebrated too soon, thinking we would make it to port over a smooth sea. In the morning, instead of 20 knots, the wind cranked up to 30. Then a squall came hurtling out from under a rain cloud. Taking down the mainsail was quite the spectacle: we were doused in salt water from head to toe, the reefing line jammed by the shrouds, and for the first time I got to be a proper old sea dog—I cut the line with the serrated deck knife. Once again, the yacht was being flung about in every direction. The wind was from astern, but the waves were on the beam, cheerfully covered in whitecaps. Those whitecaps rather spoiled the mood, and bath day was cancelled for those who had remained only half-washed yesterday (that would be me).
It seems that, despite the quarantine, they will let us into Australia, because Lady Mary has been in quarantine anyway—self-imposed, and 53 days long.
Life in the Ocean
The weather changed ten times today. Only the high seas remained constant. It even feels as though we are getting seasick. In the second month of life in the ocean, that feels particularly colourful. Stinging jellyfish—Portuguese men-of-war—have appeared; it has grown warm. Fortunately, none of them stung our waterborne cap yesterday. It is strange that there are no new birds. The albatrosses have stopped circling us, while the petrels continue to keep watch, as they have done throughout all 5,000 miles.
“Mum, do they just like escorting yachts, or are there simply that many of them all across the ocean?”
We concluded that the birds most likely really are curious about following a yacht, rather than merely drifting around the ocean. And that gives us a certain sense of kinship with these wanderers—it means we are crossing the ocean together.
We are finishing off the vegetables and fruit. For the first time in our lives, by the end of a passage like this we do not have the strength to eat all the fresh provisions. Today we will bake the apples in two batches; two pumpkins with cheese sauce have gone into a goulash. And our young sailor—our junior naturalist—has soaked half a kilo of mung beans in a saucepan. This will be a laugh: we will arrive in Australia, where they confiscate and destroy anything that can sprout, with beans that have already sprouted—ready to sow straight from the pier. So we will have to cook them in the morning, sprouts and all, and end up with twice as much bean porridge )).
Land Is Close
Some new beans in every colour have been discovered in the far reaches of our stores. Altogether, the beans alone will fill a bucket. Why have we eaten so little of them since Chile?... I won’t list the rest of the provisions we will lose tomorrow; it would break my heart.
We will arrive and let you know how it all went. For now, the mood is very strange—the joy of the nearby shore is overshadowed by its demands, compounded by the coronavirus situation, which increasingly threatens to derail our plans for the summer.
All right, let’s not dwell on sad things. Land is only 50 miles away. 50, Karl!!!
A big hug to you, friends. Thank you for brightening this difficult passage with your rays of support. And yes, we are visible again on the Iridium track under the route tab:
“Route.”
MVS-Telecom fixed the temporary glitch in three seconds. Many thanks to them!