What do we do? I sleep a lot, read a bit, write some, and make excellent bread. The best alarm clock is a full bladder. Dave sleeps a lot, reads much more, cleans fastidiously (usually when he’s cross – “this is the dirtiest ship I’ve ever been in”, he said today) and makes excellent omlettes. He just loves the Ken Burns Civil War series, which I sit him down to each night. I use the time to indulge in Chatham tabac, which has sent me spinning into another cosmos on more than one memorable occasion.
Dawn – gorgeous Liberace pink, not a cloud. Not a souffle either. Engine on at 4am. Our fabulous bus heater suffuses the cabin with a pleasant, alien sensation – it’s warmth, we think.
And by 4.30pm it’s raining, cold and windy out. But spirits are high and we’re having a little imbibulation – Dave cracked a bottle of Yarra Valley cab sav (Frenchman’s Road Special red) and I’ve had 2 glasses of Bickfords cordial. We’ve now less than 1,000 miles to go. Weather permitting, touch wood, grace dieu, insh’Allah and with a little bit of luck, we could be in Chile in 7 or 8 days.
This the second milestone we’ve celebrated in the last 36 hours – yesterday we passed from 3- to 2-digit longitude. Small pleasures, you might say, but short of sucking on old tea towels looking for memories of previous meals, there’s not a lot else to do.
PR at 0100utc 4134s/09623w.
Weather comes rushing through, we get tossed about, get wet taking in sails, go below and dry off, take seasick pills, sleep, get up reluctantly to pee, then sleep some more. Then it starts all over again. Fun, hey?
Another cold black night – no other bugger mad enough to be here. We’re closing on Chile slowly, relentlessly. I hope we’ll get there in another 7 days, otherwise we’ll have to start eating those old tea towels instead of just sucking on them.