In ‘the old days’ there were no communications from here, midway between Tristan de Cunha and Cape Town. Ships left, and maybe they arrived. Letters were sent and received at ports, courtesy of poste restante. Radio might enable communications at sea, whether line of sight or long distance. Now satellites … Continue reading
Last night we, the voyage crew, were given a night off by the skipper. No watches! White watch was especially pleased as it meant we missed the unpopular 0000 to 0400 rotation. We were under engine all night and much of the morning. Yet by lunchtime, here in the Roaring … Continue reading
The map is not the geography. Its presentation, our knowledge, is always partial, biased and incomplete, in the process of becoming. We measure the unknown on maps, progress towards a new geography. Our inching forwards (or backwards) takes us to a new place, or an old place seen again for … Continue reading
Clothes washing – or ‘private laundry’ in on-board parlance – is an important topic on Europa. Instructions made clear we should bring enough clothes for two months and not rely on the possibility of washing. In practice none of us have quite enough underwear for that option. The ship does … Continue reading
Wednesday was a busy day; the swell was low enough to get into the tiny harbour at Edinburgh of the Seven Seas, the (only) settlement on Tristan de Cunha. The island has only been settled for 200 years but it’s been eventful. Lots of shipwrecks have brought people in, and … Continue reading
Tomorrow, Wednesday morning, we expect to arrive at Tristan de Cunha, the most remote inhabited place on earth. At the moment we are motor-sailing towards the island, still some 57 nautical miles away, having not seen any land, vessels or unfamiliar faces since leaving South Georgia over a week ago. … Continue reading
The real point of the masts is to hold up the sails, which on a square rigger means the yards. These are the big wooden beams from which the square sails hang. When the sails are not in use they are furled away – bundled up and tied firmly to … Continue reading
Fur sealers were first. Cook sent back reports of the millions of seals to be found in South Georgia and immediately they came. When Larson began industrial whaling he named his base Grytviken, Pot Cove, for the old cauldrons littering the beach, remnants of the seals melted for blubber. Mostly, … Continue reading
Anyone who thinks square riggers don’t sail upwind should have seen us as Europa, heeling to some 25 degrees, took the bit in her teeth and attacked the north-westerly wind yesterday afternoon. Gradually we brought in sails, gradually she heeled over, slowly the wind built, and the faster we all … Continue reading
Today I have put on my shoes for the first time since we left Punta Arenas five weeks ago. Until now, I have worn only the famous boots or (below decks) socks-with-nobbles that are warm and comfy, prevent slipping, but are not waterproof. This morning is a brief interlude of … Continue reading
