SA Cruise: Day 9

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We are now in the open ocean, and the ship is rolling and pitching significantly. Earlier the passengers walked around as if tipsy; now we all flounder about like full-fledged drunkards. Violet participates in aquafit this morning, but the pool water is sloshing around so much that the exercise comes mostly from trying to keep one's head above water.

Several lectures today on the Falklands and on the history of the Antarctic region, both given by David Wilson, one of the two naturalists specializing in the Antarctic that we picked up in Buenos Aires. I spend the rest of the time catching up on the blog. I am fascinated by the numerous dragonflies and a few butterflies that we picked up when leaving Montevideo. We saw them fluttering around the ship last night at supper as we set sail and they are still here today, darting around the pool area. I wonder what prompted them to leave land and follow us far out into the ocean. Not a good career move, I'm thinking.

The seas get even rougher in the early afternoon, although it remains a beautiful sunny day. The pool has to be closed and drained because it's become dangerous to swim. Some passengers are clearly feeling the effects of constant rocking and rolling, but so far we are unaffected, except that we have to keep a hand on something wherever we go in case of a violent lurch. In the late afternoon, Violet and I take a stroll along the main outside walkway on deck 6 to experience the ship's passage through the sea first-hand. It's great. I go up by myself to the top deck on the bow, where the wind is so strong there is an actual danger of being blown over. Back on the main walkway, I catch a split-second sight of two dolphins in perfect symmetry and video-record the waves and spray along the side of the ship. Ambling to the stern, I strike up a conversation with a gentleman equipped with a pair of impressive binoculars who is observing the birds following the wake of the ship. I ask him if he knows anything about birds and he replies "A bit," then points out two different kind of albatrosses, a shearwater and I think a petrel. Turns out he is Chris Wilson, David's brother and the other naturalist on board.

After supper we take in the evening's entertainment. It is Juan Pablo Subirana, a "Latin America Virtuoso Pianist." He plays a lot of notes really fast and is very entertaining, with lots of bad puns and visual jokes that are somehow more amusing with his strong Spanish accent.

A very rough night when we retire to the cabin. The ship pitches constantly, occasionally hitting a trough with a thunderous bang. The walls of the cabin creak in sympathy with with ship's motion. I tell myself that I am lying in hammock and listening to the ropes twist against the trees--and surprisingly, I sleep very well.

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