Goodbye New Zealand. Day 67
“Today the “AKROS” and I crossed the 131st degree of Western longitude, meaning we are in the so-called Eastern sector of the South Pacific Ocean. We have left 5,800 kilometres behind us (in total), as well as the “search and rescue” zone for which New Zealand is responsible. From today I will find myself in waters for which Chilean Coastal authorities are responsible. But I still have 4,200 kilometres left to Chile and Cape Horn, and there aren’t actually any New Zealand or Chilean vessels in this region, it is nice to know that I am in the ocean’s Chilean sector and am coming closer to the finish.
You have probably seen the difficulty with which I made my way out of the New Zealand sector. A few days ago, the boat made a complete turn for a few days, turning on the spot with a small loss of miles. The ocean had been keeping me back for a day before a new storm front appeared, and the boat and I are now moving East. For a few days the waves have been like mountains, and it either snows or hails. Further south of the 50 degrees Southern latitude there is heavy snow, but further North, at my location, I only see the periodic flurry. The boat is covered in wet snow until the waves wash it off. The air temperature is around 6°C, but the wind is icy and it feels like 0°. At night my breath comes out as steam and my hands freeze even in the cabin.
I keep a diary and a log, and according to it I have had approximately 70% stormy weather and only 30% favourable weather (up to 20 knots). I don’t know whether anybody will find that information useful, but if any other rowers come this way, they must understand and prepare for storms 70% of the time, if they are lucky.
Thank God I have passed halfway. What awaits the boat and I in this part of the Pacific Ocean? Will I finally be able to reach the West Wind Drift? I have read a lot about it, but at the moment I am further North of it despite setting a course for it. In Cape Horn the current can reach up to 10-12 kilometres per hour.
The Ocean continues to bear down with its vast emptiness. There is nothing and nobody. Just the boat and I. I stare at the horizon hoping to see just one vertical line; the deckhouse of a boat or the mast of a yacht. There are only the hills of the waves, with ridges like ice caps. The wind howls incessantly. Day and night. It is good that I have travelled this way several times and know that this is normal and as it should be.
I regret walking so little in the city. How I would like to walk out onto sandy beach or along a forest trail and stretch my muscles and joints. I am always crawling along here, in the cabin or on deck. You can’t stand up to your full height, or the boat will throw you off with the first wave like a wild horse. I can only crawl and stand on my knees. All of the kneeling I did not do on land I am doing now – working it off.
I thank you for your prayers and support.”
Fedor Konyukhov
48’55 South
130’35 West