Travel Reference
In-Depth Information
One morning, as I was playing the guitar, I heard a metallic grating noise coming from the
mast and then a mighty thump right above me as the radar reflector fell down, struck the
deck, and bounced off into the icy black water. “Good riddance to bloody, bad rubbish!” I
yelled after it. Damn! I did need that reflector for ships to spot me, but the peace that it now
afforded was very welcome, and the tension eased like the removal of a loose tooth.
It was with great relief that I noticed the following day the wind had dropped off to around
ten knots and was stealing across from the west. The weather was slightly warmer in the
day, although still freezing at night. I would leave my hot hurricane lantern on in the cabin,
which helped keep me warm down below. I even threw out a line, reliving Gavin's passion
for fishing and was rewarded with a large tuna! I set some aside for drying and making
jerky and made poki with the rest. Poki is like sashimi: raw fish marinated in seaweed, soy
sauce, lime juice, and spices; it is a great source of energy and nourishment.
The topping lift shackle on the mast broke the following day, and I knew I would have to
go aloft and replace it on a calm day. This would be a dangerous and exhausting chore, as I
would have to haul myself up in a bosun's chair with a block and tackle arrangement. I had
also managed to rip the whisker pole fitting off the mast but was able to plug the holes with
wooden slivers of clothes peg and re-screw it back, stronger than ever. The barometer was
reading 1029, which was very high.
I have observed how the seabirds mate for life, spending their days soaring and sweeping
about the vast wastelands of the southern ocean. Never bored with the other's company,
they bond as a most wholesome and natural pair. The female provokes the male into playful
chasing and sporting; this usually ends with the more powerful male flyer conquering her
game in a most sportsmanlike fashion. There is nothing mean or macho about a male sea
bird. The albatross and sooty colored Skewer, the lovely white marked Kites and the ever
present stormy Petrels come to mind, and their regal, loyal and gallant personalities are al-
ways evident.
Now followed two days of relative calm, with the wind a mere ten knots from the northeast.
I did note with some concern that the barometer fell a lot. There was another front moving
in from the northwest. I expected it to pass in a day or so. I had to make some northing in
my course, as I had been going east-southeast for too long. I was almost below the Cooks
in latitude. I was hoping that after the front passed through, the winds would come from
the south or west.
Gale winds arrived in the night, and I awoke to a rough morning, with grey skies and
rapidly building seas. I donned my safety line and went above decks dragging a smaller
headsail with me. It was a most uncomfortable motion, and I was seasick again but man-
aged to deduce a position with the miles made good from my trusty walker log and the
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