Location: Fernando de Noronha
Hi again, it’s me, Olympus! I will be writing today’s blog. Sorry that it is a bit late. Yesterday was packed with a boat to bed(preparing the boat for rest and taking tension out of lines to prevent wear) and Boat appreciation(cleaning and caring for all of the nooks and crannies of argo that get overlooked during the chaos of passage). I will be writing this blog as it was written yesterday for the purpose of continuity as well as not having to rewrite the already written parts. Enjoy!
Today, we got to watch Fernando De Noronha grow from a couple of specks of dust on the horizon to a lush and sprawling archipelago that loomed above us. Fernando is by far the most vegetated island I have ever seen. The lonely white lighthouse on the sprawling cliff-lined expanse of green has the feel of land that has almost never been touched by humankind. This is because it lacks the human footprint that we tend to leave behind. Fernando is one of the most untouched places in the world. There is also a HUGE national park that covers mostly the ocean but also some beaches and coastal cliffs. These pristine beaches are where we will be venturing to tomorrow.
While the approach to Fernando was quiet and reflective, the actual arrival was a bit difficult. On our close approach, we watched as gray clouds blocked the light from the island, casting it in shadow and nearly hiding it entirely in mist. Squalls like this bring heavy, unpredictable winds that can create swells: a wave of water piled up on itself, similar to a toy-sized tsunami. They are also accompanied by copious amounts of rain, which we experienced firsthand as it filled our rain boots to the brim and soaked our clothes through. Fernando already has impressive swells where boats must anchor, and the additional squall swells, as well as some minor technical difficulties, made it very difficult to drop the anchor. All hands were on deck, either calling out the location of the lines that surrounded us, reporting the angle of the anchor chain with a special set of hand signals, or standing by to retrieve random tools to hit things with, like rubber mallets. After the anchor had finally been dropped and Plaai, one of our dinghies, was removed from the water, we finally got to eat our slightly cold, slightly waterlogged but delicious baked potatoes and toppings.
After lunch, we started on boat appreciation. The bedding was changed, mattresses, bunk, walls, ceilings, and vents were disinfected, floors were swept and scrubbed, the topside(the outside of the boat) was scrubbed, and sail covers were put on. All of this menial listing might seem dull to you. You might wonder why I tell you about this, not the wonderful fish, snorkeling, and scuba diving. The truth is that 90% of our day is this: the menial, “boring” bits. What people on shore can’t easily understand is that doing these things while floating at the whimsy of the sea feels much more rewarding and important because these chores are the only thing keeping Argo healthy, happy, and off the sea floor. Each action we take has an impact on the boat and the safety of ourselves and our crew so we do everything to the best of our ability, even if it seems silly or unimportant.
After the boat to bed, we began to track to the onshore customs office via Plaai. Unfortunately, Plaai cannot carry everyone, so we had to take two trips. Many ports will ask every member of the crew to come ashore so that the boat can be cleared. I heard Shane say, “Oftentimes when 16 people walk in, and we [the staff] say, “Fantastic! Only 10 more, the customs agents will take back this statement and forego the hustle, bustle, and hassle of clearing all 20 crew individually”. We experienced this today. As we all piled into Plaai and raced across the water with the buzzing excitement of young sailors about to step foot on land again after 12 days at sea, Shane’s phone rang, and he stopped the engine. As we sat in the sudden silence of the drifting dinghy, Shane received and relayed the news that we, the second group, were no longer needed on shore. As the dinghy turned each of us deflated slightly at the delay in our countdown to landfall and the waiting tasks on Argo. However, as the speed picked up and the wind began to whip our faces, it was overshadowed by the thankfulness for this spray and wind-filled break.
Although the rest of our day was just as full as the first two-thirds, it was much the same activities as the first half with slightly less rain. I apologize for the lack of names in this blog, as I know many people waiting for us sailors are counting each mention of their loved one. Honestly, the idea of questioning the whole crew to figure out who put on the main sail cover or scrubbed the port side topsides sounds dull. As I feel I have pontificated enough on our daily life and my eyes are beginning to be so tired I can’t keep them open, I am going to sign off here. Have a lovely day, and happy tracking your sailor.