The Drake

57’33S 061’03W

course 170

speed 5kn

Photo: Rock Hopper
There is not to reason way, there is but to do and die… The Drake Passage often evokes sinister thoughts. Like the lambs on Saunders, hurdled together to meet their gruesome fate, we slowly creep towards our own destiny. As the first white caps appear we quickly take charge. Two eighteen-year-olds douse the main sail and the jib. The squall comes in exactly at 1500, the time it was supposed to. We dip the rail and then dash of on our new southerly course. As gladiators we enter this arena called the southern ocean. As our own masters we only have our self to blame for any mishap. Far away from any suburb or traffic jam, Tecla becomes one with this great wild beast of water. Six hours later the main sail is back up, we charge on. What a feeling! The night sky stays slightly blue. Some stars come out to check our progress. Like in a fairy tale they cheer us on. We rule the creatures of the dark. Winds and waves answer to us! Another squall comes in. Reality check… greet and vanity they hurt a good man plenty. The cold rain wakes me up. A gentle slap in the face and I’m back in my place. The boys at the halyards slowly walk back. I can see the adventure in their eyes. I can see myself. Drake it till you make it!

All is well Gijs

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