Three points of contact

For the first week, I exclaimed “we’re doing it!” multiple times a day; when climbing up high into the mast, pulling the sheet lines to set a sail, standing at the helm looking out over Europa bouncing back and forth, or simply when I was sitting on deck and looking out over the ocean. I don’t know where I picked up this catchphrase, it started after we embarked. Maybe it’s because we have been planning this journey for many years, and I consciously want to take in every minute. Maybe it’s because I’m so proud of my watch mates of the Red watch for showing up at 4 am and taking care of our course and the sails together. Or it’s all of the above, as a reminder to myself that I’m exactly where I want to be. Which is a funny sentence to write, because the only time I have even an inkling of an idea of where we are on a map, is when captain Janke points at a spot somewhere off the coast of Argentina at the daily 8 o’clock briefings. On board Bark Europa you are constantly here and now, because you have no other place to be. It’s a strangely reassuring feeling.

In our climbing instruction on day two we were told that it’s important to have three points of contact at all times, preferably two feet and one or two hands. As the first week on board progressed, I accidentally learned that three points of contact can also mean feet, stomach and face, when you’re pressed against the galley wall after a particularly rowdy breakfast; or shoulder, buttocks and at least one foot when an unexpected wave hits hard. When you get so well acquainted with different parts of the ship in such a short amount of time, it doesn’t take long to feel at home.

My watch mate Tatiana told me yesterday that she tries to book a major sailing trip once every year. She describes being out on the ocean as the most natural feeling: being fully surrounded by waves, and moving your body to the rhythm of the ocean. And I started noticing it, too. For the first few days on board, you become very aware of your body: it hurts a little in strange new places, and you (re)discover muscles that are very helpful for hauling lines, but don’t get much use in daily life.

I noticed another change, which probably already happened many hundreds of nautical miles back: my body has become more aware, it has taken over the reins. My watch mate told me it’s a built-in safety feature: If you’re balancing in the shower at a speed of 8 knots, there’s no time to think about the angle of the shower curtain to calculate your position (unless you’re an engineer called Sophia). It’s your body that intuitively starts to counterbalance itself to make sure you don’t hit your head. The same goes for climbing stairs and finding handrails in the hallway when the ship moves from side to side. And I have to say, it’s an amazing feeling! Now, I can stand at the helm with my hands in my pockets and be totally confident that I can stay upright (if the weather is not too crazy). Our daily Tai Ship practice has also improved my balance a lot, and I hope to continue the teachings of master Juan José after we disembark in Ushuaia. Last night, Antonio and I luckily barely missed a huge wave splashing over the capping rail on starboard side when we came back from the front deck, and I like to think it’s our bodies’ instincts that saved us. But nothing compares to the rush you feel in your body when you climb up the main mast during sunset to furl the Royal and T’Gallant (the two highest square sails), as we did last night. The adrenaline of being up there with watch mates Bue and Nacho, trying to remember the clove hitch (which I have been able to do since I was 7 years old) and holding on for dear life with the wind dancing around you, while swearing loudly in Spanish, was amazing and indescribable.  

So far, we have been blessed by many visits, almost every day: albatrosses flying low and high alongside the ship and the waves; Southern Right Whales swimming only a few metres away from Bark Europa and winking at us (we even caught it on video!). Many dolphins have played on all sides of the ship, and I watched them this afternoon as I was sitting right above them on the bow sprit. Even at 00:00 am we spotted dolphins one night, because they lit up due to the bioluminescence in the water and we could hear their strong breaths when they came up for air, which was absolutely magical. Every day I soak up as much of the sun and stars as possible, even when the wind has started to feel a bit chilly. Now that the worst FOMO has finally subsided, it’s time to maybe take it a bit easier on the last few days: take some more naps, maybe read a few pages (I highly recommend “De reis van Bark Europa” for Dutch readers) and nourish my body, to fully enjoy the last few days of this leg, and get ready to celebrate Christmas on the Beagle channel.