The Thrill of Discovery

Day 129/7

Noon Position: 47 34S 166 07E

Course/Speed: SE 7-8

Wind: WNW to 20

Bar: 1009

Sea: W5

Sky: Broken but lots of sun now; front visible astern

Cabin Temperature: 55

Water Temperature: 54

Sail: Twins poled out

Noon to Noon Miles Made Good: 62 (We sailed 140 to gain those 62.)

Miles this leg: 813

Avg. Miles this leg: 116

Miles since departure: 18, 068

I tacked to the south just after dinner, still close hauled. At midnight the wind began to swing into the west (hosannas!), so I tacked again, now heading southeast, but still reaching in zephyrs. The sea had flattened; the full moon, a cold, ivory disk hidden, at times, by soot-colored clouds.

By nine the next morning, wind had come dead aft, and I unfurled Mo’s twin headsails. Relief. Finally, wind, boat, sea, and man all in accord; all moving joyously in the same direction.

And sun we had and birds. By noon wind had risen to the high teens and higher. Now Mo charged off at 7 and 8 knots, and, as if in celebration, was surrounded by clouds of gyrating birds, Prions uncountable, Cape Petrels, an Antarctic Fulmar, Bullers and Black Browed and Wandering Albatross, White-Chinned Petrels, Storm Petrels, a Southern Giant Petrel, a Tern I couldn’t identify, and more Prions. Prions everywhere. It was as if Mo was a gray moose lumbering a blue bog, covered by such swarms was she.

Most photogenic (because they came close) were the Cape Petrels, dark head, white under, dark above but splashed with large white spots on the overwings, the appaloosa of petrels and most distinctive for it. These we’ve seen in singles and pairs usually in company with Prions ever since our Tasmanian departure. They will come right up to the boat, even swing *under* the genoa pole before settling in the water just aft. For this I thank them and ask most politely that they communicate such friendship with the Bullers Albatross, another southern ocean stunner, which has thus far avoided my camera.

All afternoon the front continued to approach, slowly at first and then more slowly still, not winning the sky until mid afternoon. I was disappointed. Surely the gloom would hide any chance we had of seeing The Snares, but in fact, no. At 1400 hours, there they were, a low smudge on the horizon eighteen miles to the south and east.

Mysterious to me is why such sightings like The Snares, and in February, The Crozets, are so exciting. After all, I saw but a dark lump in the far distance, but that lump filled my imagination with fire. How thrilling to have discovered it, to wander its bird infested cliffs, to chart its margins. I felt again the thrill of exploration, as if I’d at last found something at the end of this long, watery road.

No such thrill is associated with The Traps, which we will pass below well after sundown.