We are now sailing below the equator having crossed the 00 longitude
and 00 latitude point. There was nothing here, per say but the idea of
a point where time begins and ends as it travels around the globe is
an interesting one. The British established the Greenwich mean time
and it is strange to think that we are here on London time, but here
off the African coast as well.
Last night, (actually at 2:00 am this morning) I viewed the big dipper
upside down spilling onto the horizon line. Consequently Polaris, the
north star was beyond view below the horizon line. I am a long way
from home. Seeing the dipper did in fact comfort me. I was able then
to go back to bed and sleep finally. It was reassuring to "place"
myself again in the universe.
Voyaging around the globe is an interesting experience. It is a vast
planet in circumference to be sure, yet I also am feeling how small it
is. Small in that the human affect is felt everywhere. Even out here.
yesterday I saw a red marker. Perhaps it was a " mid channel" weather
beacon.. But non the less, there it was in the midst of the Atlantic
ocean.
Tonight I noticed the southern cross. It looks like a children's kite
in it's simplicity. We are headed right for it as it sits just above
the horizon line due south. The air temperature has dropped as well.
The humid air of the equator has been replaced by a lovely familiar
coolness. I have heard that Cape Town temperatures will be in the mid
60's to 70's. This will be a welcomed reprieve after Ghana, Brazil and
even Dominica.
The line is straight as it disappears behind us. A flat, light blue
trail off the stern points to that which we have left behind. It is
the only delineation anywhere around us. The ocean is flat, calm and
blue with only this slight disruption on its surface, like a soft
pencil line on paper. I spent yesterday on a lounge chair at the back
of the pool deck contemplating the horizon line. All day mesmerized
by the vastness of the space around me. A gentle breeze. Flying fish.
Whale's spouting in the distance. All day I watched. Once there was a
vessel behind us. A large white container ship but with imagination I
thought it a tall clipper ship of a bygone era. A ghost ship. Then it
was gone again. Out of sight and out of mind.
Today I see that the sea's have begun to "pick up". There are waves
and small white caps. If we were on the Carmelita, I imagine she would
be rolling and pitching side to side. However, here our ship plows
right through and we only rock slightly to and fro. I wonder if sea
conditions will continue to build as we head further south. The area
where the Atlantic ocean meets the Indian ocean is often an active
stretch of sea. It is summer here, but that does not necessarily
guarantee calm conditions. It may be pleasant until we round the
corner after Cape Town as we cruise further east. We shall see.
Imagine when all travel from continent to continent was regularly
achieved via ocean voyaging? This slow, day after day experience was
the normal mode of travel for centuries. The difference with this one
is that I can still communicate via email with the outside world. I
can still read the top stories and keep up with current affairs. So,
while I am physically limited at this 15 knot pace, I have 21st
century streaming. Perhaps the best of both worlds.
The monotony of the constant ocean. It is easy to become complacent
and forgetful of time and date. The repetition of the days at sea has
slowed me to a simple creature of habit. I Feel the sea breeze and
listen to the waves against the ship's side. It is a familiar sound.
With eyes closed, I can conjur up places of my past where the same
sound was heard: Prouts Neck, in Maine, Hawaii, Mexico and even my
most recent stop on the shores of Ghana. This is an universal sound;
waves crashing on shore. It makes no difference the here they are
crashing against the side of our vessel. The sound is the same. A
reminder of the transcendent quality of memories and sensory
imprinting.
Do they hold their breath? As they skim across the tops of the ocean ?
Just when I start to doubt the truth of their identity, these flying
fish finally re-enter the water. Do they hold their breath as they
cover such a surprisingly long distance? Is it simply instinct to move
from harms way.? The ships in this case. Or, do they feel joy? It
looks fun the way they glide along. Not so much flying, as soaring.
Something we would probably pay a lot to experience!
The clouds rolled in last night. The Captain had planned to turn off
the running lights to afford star gazing put the overcast sky's
resulted in the cancellation of that. It was ironic since every other
night leading up to last night would have been fabulous for star
gazing without the ships lighting obstructing the viewing. Hopefully
it will be rescheduled sometime in the future. The sea's were also
more pronounced so that also did not lend itself to precision viewing.
A calm, clear night is needed.
Today the sea's are very active. We are lucky we are headed directly
into the current and the wind. The combination of the two has resulted
in large rollers with white caps. More what I had expected all along.
The air temperature is also much cooler as well. Apparently there is a
cold front coming up from the south pole contributing to this storm
front. Not too problematic, just evident in the stronger sea's. We
will continue running directly into this until we enter Cape Town
tomorrow morning.
This is our final day at sea of the six. I think I like ocean cruising
after all......
-Melissa
Sent from my iPad
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