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Optimistic Pondering from the Millpond

November 28 2008

As you probably can deduce, our present address is: RUS 1, V70, The Indian Ocean, Southern Hemisphere. It’s not until I think about our current location that it dawns on me how all alone and far away from home we are. The next piece of solid rock is 2 miles away. That is to say it’s 2 miles below us down on the deep dark ocean floor. The time is 3am and there is no moon and no wind. Boat speed just dropped down to 0.06 knots. It’s warm and pleasant and we have just witnessed an amazing sight. The stars are bright and there is a heavenly reflection on the oily water of the Milky Way. The celestial cloak covers the sky like a splatter of shimmering paint stretching from high above the mast, down to the water. Then with seamless kiss it dives in and majestically surfaces to glisten its way across the sea to our feet like a silver carpet. Are we expecting the Gods for tea? If so, I would thank them in person for this astonishing spectacle.

I would also shake them by the hand for giving us another amazing technicolour display of mother nature on the first night out of Cape Town. With the rocky cliffs of the Cape still in sight we sailed through a plume of shining bright phosphorescence that surrounded us by hundreds of meters. Normally, we see our bow wave light up together with a shimmer from the boats’ wake, but this time every wave was a disco light of day-glow green or electric blue. The sea was teaming with fish feeding and the air seamed to be statically charged with a powerful spell. We all stood on the deck in disbelief, not quite understanding what we were seeing. I for one felt that this was a rare sight, probably never to be witnessed again. I thought I should try to photograph it, as I was sure that it was bright enough to capture but my heart told me to stay, as no photo would ever do justice to my memory. Later that night, my media power source failed me so I didn’t get to report on it then but I’m glad to recant the tale now.

Back in the summer, I remember talking to my daughter’s class before I left for Alicante. I was stood holding a globe showing the children the Volvo race route. When I turned the globe to the fifth leg from Quindao to Reio, I traced my finger across the Pacific Ocean. It was then I noticed that at one point you couldn’t see any land, just sea, blue blue sea. At one point the race crews will be closer to the NASA space station than to any other body of human existence. That’s just scary in any language. If you have a globe at home or the office pick it up and try it. Yes yes, ok you can see the top of New Zealand for a moment, but only sheep live there now, all the people have left and are racing or working in the Volvo Ocean Race.

So as we sit, still and serene, which are two words not ideally linked with the Volvo Ocean Race, it gives me time to ponder and reflect on the leg so far and the predicament we find ourselves in. It’s not time to throw in the towel yet. The weather model has suddenly changed for the worse. Not to be down heartened, if they can change for the worse so quickly, there is no reason they won’t suddenly change back for the good.