Day 36
A conversation with Fedor Konyukhov using the satellite telephone system Iridium.
“Everything is well with me, there have been no extraordinary incidents, thank God. Today is Groundhog Day. It has been a week of grey sky and sea, with the rain, wind and waves. Nothing changes besides the time and calendar date. I know that a moon was born, but the whole sky is covered by clouds so I cannot see it. There is little sunlight, but the solar batteries are charging well. They are getting enough diffused light.
I am bringing myself and the boat to order after the stormy weather which kept the boat and I under such pressure in the last few days. The wind has raised huge waves, which have been coming up against the boat quite severely, coming close to capsizing it. The crests of the waves were breaking thunderously on the cockpit and I was concerned that the navigational antenna would be torn from the bridge. I haven’t turned on the gas stove for two days, and haven’t eaten hot food for nearly 50 hours. I’m scared that I may scald myself with boiling water if a strong wave hits. There have been many such accidents in the ocean. At least I have saved on gas. I have accounted for one gas canister per week, as everything is limited by weight and storage restrictions.
Today I launched the desalination unit and boiled some fresh water to make chicken broth with croutons, which my family dried for me in New Zealand. Yes – I do possess good expedition provisions from Radix Nutrition, but sometimes I just want broth and croutons.
Last night the boat bumped into something. At one point, for a few seconds, the waves stopped slamming into the hull, at which point came a sharp thump. It was as though the boat came down from a wave and landed onto a sleeping whale or large log. As soon as the rain dies down I will try to inspect the hull for scratches or chipped paint. Meanwhile, it is dry inside the cabin.
There are many Portuguese man-o-war (bluebottle) jellyfish about. Whole fields of them, in the ocean. They are poisonous and can burn your hands. When I take the boat through these fields, I withdraw the oars and wait until I have passed through. I have never seen such a concentration of jellyfish. I believe it is either because the ocean has become severely polluted, or, now that I am sitting some 20cm from the ocean rather than high up in a yacht, I am paying more attention to everything that appears on the surface.
I have made good progress so far, in 2019. I worry only that it has been difficult to move South. Since the beginning of the year, it has been impossible to cross 48 degrees latitude. As soon as I come close, Southerly winds blow the boat North, and I have to steer the boat South again. Over the whole voyage, I have only been able to make 48’15 degrees latitude. In order to traverse Cape Horn, I must get to 57 degrees latitude, despite the wind preventing me from even approaching 50 degrees in a whole month. The situation isn’t critical, however, as there is still time and distance, but I am already thinking about it. The forecast predicts South-Westerly winds for the next few days. This means that I will lose latitude again, as I will have to go North with the wind.
But this is all in the job description. The main thing is that I am alive and well. Thank God for everything.
Regards to all,
Fedor Konyukhov. Rowboat “AKROS”.
47’36 South
157’50 West.