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Carried by the wind

A gentle breeze carries us through the smooth water. The ship and her inhabitants are getting used to the slow pace in the passing of space and time. We’ve escaped from the grip of the everlasting Antarctic winter, today the temperature got up to about 15 degrees Celsius; flip flops have made their appearance on deck, it’s just a matter of miles before the easy chairs will find their way to the sun deck.

A gentle breeze carries us through the smooth water. The ship and her inhabitants are getting used to the slow pace in the passing of space and time. We’ve escaped from the grip of the everlasting Antarctic winter, today the temperature got up to about 15 degrees Celsius; flip flops have made their appearance on deck, it’s just a matter of miles before the easy chairs will find their way to the sun deck.

The barometer has been rising steadily and the clear night sky is filled with an abundance of stars. The constellations of the Southern Hemisphere, the navigational markers of old, are sought out and found. Sometimes the ships astronomer Eduardo points us in the right direction, with his green laser pen…

One of the voyage crew confined to me that if she would have her way we would never make landfall again. And she may get what she wishes for; We'll do our best but Tristan de Cunha is a very easy place to miss! The island is the quintessential tip of the iceberg, emerging from the deep in an otherwise vast and wide empty ocean.

Our engines haven’t seen any use since departure from South Georgia, and we cotinue to follow the example of the Albatross around us and let the wind carry us the remaining 400 Nautical Mile.

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