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Middle of nowhere

We are on the 6th full day of sailing since we left South Georgia, roughly 700 miles away from Tristan da Cunha. That means we are literally in the middle of nowhere.

We are on the 6th full day of sailing since we left South Georgia, roughly 700 miles away from Tristan da Cunha. That means we are literally in the middle of nowhere. Already for six days the Europa is wandering all alone on one of the greatest oceans. Although we are not really all alone, there are always some albatrosses and other birds flying around us. Yesterday we spotted several icebergs on the horizon which are absolutely not supposed to be here. The water temperature is around 6-8 degrees so their death wish was already signed a long time ago. And a few days earlier, we came very close to another ship; it was only 40 miles behind us! So as you can see, being alone is always a very relative thing.

After all the landings and overwhelming views of glaciers, landscapes, whaling stations and millions and millions of penguins and seals, it was time to get into sailing mode again. Safety lines were set up on the decks, sails unfurled, sheets and halyards hauled away, new watches were made and biorhythms created accordingly. With the new spare time on our hands  books are being read and now lately also more people are walking around with their sailing handbook studying all the sails and the location of the pin rails (so they know which rope to pull). We get new lectures about the oceans and its geology, more about sail handling, and a lot is to be told about kelp. Everybody gets their hands on something they like or want to do. Some bake bread, some climb up the mast, some stay in their bunk and some try to learn German, English and Spanish at the same time. Everybody finds their spot in our miniature society. And every day we are on look-out avoiding a Europa-Titanic situation and every day we are helming to make sure we go north(-east) and leave the miracles of Antarctica and South-Georgia behind us.

We eat.

We sleep.

We sail.

Repeat.

Written by:
Bert Redant | Trainee

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