Deepest coma.
Up at 6 to a misty cold morning. Nothing moves, nothing gets spilt; I don’t have to hang on. Around the boat, like an Imax movie, we see green fields, cows, a lovely wooden church. Orange fishing boats with their graceful sheerlines, curious sea lions, the occasional penguin and convocations of Peruvian pelicans. Dave, misty-eyed, thinks fondly of Gloria (that lovely sea lion he fell in love with at Campbell Island all those years ago).
After hot coffee I made my first, faltering position report in Spanish to the lighthouse keeper, who gave us useful information about tides in Canale Chacao with its legendary 8 knot current. We reported in to the wonderful Patagonia Net also, then upped anchor and awayed.
Cottages, a pretty wooden church and cows dot the green hillside. And now to Puerto Montt. More anon.