Running the Easting down in harsh conditions.
Light-mantled albatrosses joined us on our way. A hard night of rolling, heeling and pitching.
Swell travelling eastwards along the Southern Ocean rises over the stern of the ship. More often than not, her main deck, pinrails and coils disappear underwater.
The Northwest and West Winds have been strong, around 40kn but with gusts up to 50kn. It just takes a few more hours, then it abates during the morning. And yet again, less wind means setting some more of the canvas that was stowed away until now. Top Gallants are sheeted down, their yards hoisted, Middle staysails halyards pulled up.
Strong winds blow from the west quarter. High seas. Sailing the Furious 50’s.
Sailors have used those latitudes and winds for centuries to propel them fast around the world. A traditional maritime and sailing saying for that is “Running the Easting Down”. No coastal currents here to deal with, instead the ship sails high into the southern latitudes and runs with the prevailing winds and occasionally giant swells, dashing through miles of longitude day after day.
But finding yourself in that situation means living with an awareness of the isolation and the stormy weather, living a mixture of great sailing, thoughtful and careful routing and a whole lot of challenges. These latitudes and their conditions test you while working aloft, trying to hold on while on deck or simply attempting to walk the ship’s corridors and stairs, let alone get a coffee or have a meal without spills.
As yet another sailing saying states: “In the vastness of the Furious 50’s, every mile covered is synonymous with a fierce duel against the elements.”
Here countless streams of Low Pressure Systems travel eastwards. We steer to position ourselves to ride them in their fair and strong windy areas to route our way along the South Pacific and Southern Ocean towards the Horn.
On our way, the latitudes of the 30’s were left behind long ago, a few days after departure from New Zealand. We sailed harder along the Roaring 40’s. Now we face the Furious 50’s.
According to an old sailing proverb, “Below latitude 40 South there is no law, and below 50 South there is no God.”
The 40s still flow over some lands besides the ocean, such as Tasmania, the south of New Zealand and some provinces in Argentina. The 50s are an extension of the 40s but typically a bit stronger because they have less interaction with landmasses along the extreme southern portion of the Pacific.
After sailing 173 nautical miles today, 3437nm are at our back. At a distance of 1532nm ahead of us lies Cape Horn.
Far to the north are now the areas of the South Pacific Gyre, emptier of life, less productive than this latitudinal band of the Southern Ocean under the effects of the West Wind Drift. Like this, the birdlife around the ship increases and we are having more and more good sightings. Heaps of Prions flutter around us, some young Black-browed albatrosses fly by, a solitary Wanderer glides close by, has a quick look and disappears on the horizon amongst the big waves.
With their slender appearance and smart dark plumage, they are among the smallest albatrosses, with wingspans of about two meters. Today, for the first time in our trip, several beautiful Light-mantled albatrosses join our progress, coming and going to the ship during a few hours.
Except when breeding, their habitat is entirely marine, and they will forage from the edges of the Antarctic pack ice to about 40°S along a circumpolar pelagic distribution in the Southern Ocean.
It was on the 1st of February 1769, when the Endeavour was leaving the Drake Passage for the South Pacific during Cook’s first expedition around the world, that the voyage naturalist Joseph Banks got hold of what he called a “black-billed albatross”. It was the first time that a specimen was described in a scientific manner. Nevertheless, we would have to wait until 1773, during Cook’s second voyage aboard the Resolution, for the description and naming of the Light-mantled albatross to be published. The naturalists aboard, father and son Forsters, got one of them on the 12th of January, after rounding the Horn and venturing into the northern area of the Weddell Sea at a latitude of 64º 12´ S.
6 o’clock, having but little wind, we brought to among some loose ice, hoisted out the bats and took up as much as filled all our empty casks and completed our water to 40 Tons, the Adventure at the same time filled all her empty casks; while this was doing Mr Forster shot an albatross whose plumage was a dark grey colour, its head, upper sides of the wings rather inclining to black, with white eye brows, we first saw these birds about the time of our first falling in with these ice islands and they have accompanied us ever since. Some of the seamen call them Quaker birds, from their grave colour…’
Captain James Cook on board HMS Resolution