Pacific Ocean
Sailing our way north.
"Admiring its placid surface he courteously gave it the name it will ever bear, the "Pacific Ocean." Magellan was the first European to discover that when the nights are long in the northern hemisphere they are correspondingly short in the southern. When he passed through the straits the nights were only four hours long. At the same time in Spain they were nearly fifteen hours long. And now the great sailor having burst through the barrier of the great American continent steered for the north-west. For three months and fifteen days he sailed on and on, but saw no inhabited land."
J. H. Ward, The Hand of Providence
Green flash as the sun set last evening at our portside. A full moon rises at our starboard. Nighttime.
A new day begins in the southeastern boundary of the Pacific Ocean.
Europa motorsails in a light southerly breeze, sails sway back and forth, now filling with a puff of wind, now just hanging empty.
A light is spotted by the lookouts. A discussion of what it is and how far from the ship it floats. The report reaches the Captain, she has a look outside and rushes to stop the engines.
At port-aft of the ship pop up one buoy, two, three, in-between one line, two or even more. The new day starts with the ship seized and stopped by a fishing gear rig.
Two hours later she sails free again. The line that caught her propeller has been cut off.
The sun rises on a clear sky. The good breeze, the currents and the seas are with us. All promising for a full day of great and smooth sailing.
We are gradually coming into the effects of the northwards-flowing Humboldt Current, while towards the south runs the Cape Horn Current. The wide West Wind Drift hits South America and splits into those two current systems along the latitudes where we find ourselves now.
And indeed she sails today, between downwind and broad reach. By the end of the day she flies all her canvas with the exception of the Spanker. Her speed between 7 and 3.5 kn with the comings and goings of the southerly winds.
A handful of the largest flying birds in the world glide over the swells close to us, the Wandering and Royal albatrosses. Along them, a couple of the smart-suited Light-mantled, smaller but elegant both in their flight and dark grey looks. The more common and already known to us Black-browed also join.
The wind eases as the hours pass, our speed drops with it. Many of them decide to sit on the water and wait for more favourable flying conditions, taking off if our course happens to bring the ship close to their resting spot.
Europa makes way northwards until late evening when we fall slightly to starboard to start heading south of Chiloé island and the ample waterway between it and the mainland.
Sun sets in a green and blue flash at our portside. Nighttime falls. We hope for a quieter night than yesterday, for a great uninterrupted and smooth sailing in darkness, lit up by a full moon that rises in warm colours at our starboard.
