We’re in the roaring forties about 400 miles east of the Chatham Islands loping along at about 6 knots. It’s been quite rough until now, but today the sun came out for a while and the seas settled down. Beanies and gloves are still needed on deck, but no longer in the cabin. For now.
It is a lonely ocean except for the seabirds, our wonderful companions. Great albatrosses, storm petrels, pintados, gadfly petrels and prions soar and swoop in our wake. What do they think about, I wonder. Do they know how beautiful they are? Do they think we’re totally stupid?
This is cold, wet, slow, uncomfortable and frightening. All of that, yes. But there’s something very good and special about crossing an ocean under you own steam. Life stripped down to its bare essentials. Even so, I don’t enjoy the enormous length of this trip. Why do I do it, I ask myself? – I’m doing it because I want to have done it, to have the experience to look back on.