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
The most beautiful iceberg lay one-quarter of a mile to starboard of our course, the most westerly of a line of tabular bergs, and huge. Big enough for a village to live on its rectangular top hgh above the sea. At the base, on the southern side, was a thick … Continue reading
Home is bunk 8A, the upper bunk against the port side in cabin 8, which I share with four other women. Bunks are important dens, even ones too low to sit up on and which require climbing (like mine). When the announcement of sheet change comes, we greet it with … Continue reading
Early yesterday morning we left the beauties of South Georgia to ride 45 knts of south westerly into the Southern Ocean on our way to Tristan. There was a lot of swell too – 8m high waves at times. I was flat out in my bunk again! This morning I … Continue reading
The proper dress for a shore trip is always an interesting question here in South Georgia. In Antarctica it was simpler: everything you could put on and still move. Here it is a bit more complicated. First of the indefatigable superman posing as Expedition Leader (JordI) gives us a briefing. … Continue reading
The legacy of the whaling massacres lie along the beaches and slopes. The textures of slaughter linger, irremedial.. Unsanitised, unhidden, unsafe. Curved wood: boat ribs, fractured thwarts, scraps distorted by wind and snow and sea, weathered to palest white. Eroded planks, holed and stained by vanished nails.lie, wood-fingers pointing without … Continue reading
