Drake Passage via Cape Horn

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Friday 26th
Finishing up the drake passage means we were well past the convergence. The waters really started roughing up the boat by early morning, 3am-ish. Breakfast time was also a good time to bring a catchers mitt, since the plates and glasses slid from one side of the table to the next. The ups and downs also made it feel like I was eating on a roller coaster. Luckily the motion was also akin to a big cradle, and its powers made me more sleepy than sick. By noon, we reached Cape Horn, a beautiful mass of rocks jetting out into the sea. And the waves subsided considerably.
I made an appearance on the top outside deck for better views of the cape, which has claimed thousands of sailors and boats throughout its day. It’s easy to see how a boat could get caught off guard and be swallowed by the rocky cape. As a fog sheltered any clear views of the cape, our first sign of land was a squadron of albatrosses gliding across the waves and over our ship.
It is said that these albatrosses carry the spirit of the dead sailors, and so it is considerably bad luck to kill any of them for any reason. As if by the snap of a magicians finger, the cape appeared out of the fog. On the serene ridge lay a statute and a small cottage, protected by crashing waves and sharp rocks below. Out of respect for the latent danger of the area, the captain took the boat perpendicular to shore for only a few minutes. Then, we turned sharply away from the cape and headed out to sea, making sure we were well away from the death trap.
Things on board are business as usual, considering its our second day at sea. The food is not exciting, but it’s always fun to see how many ways the cook puts out potatoes for a single meal. The other day, we got baked potatoes, mashed, French fries, and potato salad. But the truly most memorable meal was our hamburger dinner. My dad gets his burger, stares at it, and makes some quick calculations in his head. He realizes for the cost of the trip, and correspondingly the cook’s budget, we should be getting fresh crab served on a naked lady, and hand-fed by that same lady.
But I guess the food is something between ultimate luxury cruising and the half-baked meals our fore-expedition fathers cooked up on the same waters. Clearly, this was the cook’s interpretation of the cornucopia offered on a past Swedish expedition.
No more slop soon, as Jim and Joy recommended Puerto Fuy, back in Santiago, which serves up unfrozen king crab caught from the nearby waters.
I am truly not looking forward to moving from the ship back to reality. But I know that new years with the family and Puerto Fuy will soften the blow. For now, I am just trying to get used to looking out the window and not seeing icebergs block my view of the horizon.

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