I Miss My Oat Milk Latte

It was December of the last year. We were aboard Bark Europa, sailing toward Ushuaia, El Fin del Mundo. There were 38 of us in the voyage crew, from fifteen different countries, guys and gals of various ages, with different backgrounds and walks of life. Many languages were spoken, however our love for the sea and adventure, and English with the beautiful sounds of various accents, united us.

With the 16 permanent crew on board, collaboration was constant: sail handling, helming, lookout duties, and the never ending maintenance that keeps a ship like Europa alive. Every task, role, and person mattered.

I learned so much, too. Did you know that albatrosses live almost entirely at sea, coming to land only to breed? That petrels have a built in desalination “machine” inside their beaks? That every whale’s tail is as unique as a fingerprint? And that in the Southern Hemisphere, the sun circles through the north? I did not...

We were sailing upwind into the south, guided by the Southern Cross and the ship’s compass. I was moving with the ship, and looking forward to my oat milk latte, being certain I would get one soon, and equally certain that I would miss my Europa experience: the camaraderie and the vastness of the never empty ocean...

Little did I know there would be no oat milk latte in Ushuaia. And little did I know I would not stay away from Europa for long.

Now it is April 2026 as I write this. We are on our way to Callao from Valparaíso. This voyage is different. There are only nine of us in the voyage crew, small but mighty, along with the 16 great permanent crew, some new to me and some who I met in December. We all, the 25 of us, came from twelve countries across five continents.

We are sailing downwind, heading north along the South Pacific coast of America de Sud. While the closest land is 4000 meters underneath, the closest dry land though is 260 nautical miles to the east of us. Europa rolls slowly and gracefully away from the Southern Cross. The air and water become warmer. However, some things remain unchanged: the collaboration, the camaraderie, and the ever present ocean.

While on land, a friend once asked me what it feels like to be on a tall ship in the open ocean. How do you describe the constant motion of water and the ship, working out every muscle of your body, the 'silence' of wind and waves, the occasional moan from Neptune deep below? The sun playing on the surface by day, the moon casting a silver river by night, the dancing stars overhead? The whales spouts, sometimes followed by joyful flips, showing their unique tails and bellies? The sea lion roars aft at night, and the schools of dolphins leaping southward,  the flying fish running away from their chasers? The bioluminescence during dark nights? The astonishing views from the Royal yards, and the ship’s songs as she rocks and rolls? There is never silence, there is always motion. My words fell short. One must come aboard to feel in order to feel and understand.

We are running downwind now. Europa rocks gently and peacefully. I am smiling. I am happy. Is it my happy place? Maybe. I still miss my oat milk latte though. Would I get one soon? Would I be back on Europa soon? I do not know. I know for sure that I will miss Bark Europa again, the new friends, the shared work, the wonder of the ocean.

Come aboard!