[password] rachel25
[position] 39 53.427s 073 23.311w
[status] On passage to Valdivia, Chile

Day 43 Arrival

The wind was cool and the waves short and steep as we closed on the coast. Soon we could distinguish Punta Gatera, until then only a waypoint on the chart plotter. The wind moderated and we shook out reefs and unfurled the yankee, reaching into the lee of the headland and slowly releasing ourselves from the ocean's rhythm. Tree clad hills, occasional buildings, a man fishing with a long pole from a wooden boat, short mast, triangular white sail. Many, many birds, petrels swooping diving, others sitting in flocks on the surface. And then a roaring bellow just behind us. Lucas and I looked back to see a huge grey back, rise gently and then an eruption of steam as a great whale breached. This was a big whale, longer than us. We couldn't identify the type but felt privileged to have received his welcome.

We rounded Punta Gonzalo and entered Bahia Corral, a large sheltered stretch of water. Now there were other birds welcoming us, scores of pelicans, some flying in lines intent on their destination, another flock diving for fish. Shags, penguins, gulls and a baby sealion cavorting in our wake. What a change from the barren ocean of a few hours before.

We found a small sheltered bay, downed the sails, and drifted while we extricated the main anchor from its ocean stowage in the fore cabin and hoisted it onto the deck, then attached it to the chain and recovered it onto the bow roller, ready now for use. Then continued motoring, past a beach filled with the colour, chatter, sun umbrellas, and clamour of summer holiday, past a pier with ice cream shop, a ferryboat teeming with people, and into the lee of Isla Mansera. The depth came down and down and we turned into the light breeze and dropped the anchor in 2.2 metres, the centreboard actually touching the sand, making our first physical connection with Chile.

Lunch in the cockpit, the table flat and steady, the beer cool and level, watching and listening to the local chatter 100 metres away on the shore. Families walking, kids diving and swimming, a chainsaw, a digger, the sounds very distinct and so different to the those of the ocean.

Then a long afternoon siesta. A sleep. A long, long sleep.

We awoke as the stars were appearing, the silence, deafening. A celebratory meal, the last of the vacuum packed venison. Champagne, and many toasts to all of you who have supported and helped us. A bottle of Chilean Wine. +A game of chess, mistakes, rather than strategy driving the outcome.

Tomorrow, we will head up the river to Valdivia, marinas, customs and immigration, internet, phones, laundry and showers, ATMs, passwords, but tonight we enjoy the quiet and peace, a long ocean passage well completed.

John Masefield says it all, I quote the last verse of Sea Fever but you need to read the lot:

I must go down to the seas again to the vagrant gypsy life.
To the gull's way and the whale's way where the wind's like a whetted knife;
And all I ask is a merry yarn from a laughing fellow-rover,
And quiet sleep and a sweet dream when the long trick's over.

[speed] 0.0 knots
[heading] 245 true
[weather] Wind SW 5 knots. 0.0m waves. Sky 5% cloud. Baro 1017
[END]