We are past the “point of no return” and heading for Ponta Delgada. This journey, which seemed endlessly long at departure, is now nearing its end. In the meantime, we are playing another game: who can guess the ETA (expected arrival time) in the Azores? The prize is unknown, yet many have entered with guesses ranging from Thursday to Saturday.
What else is happening on the Eendracht? We are occupied with the question, “how do you eat spaghetti?” As a half-Italian and “crew son,” my heart breaks when spaghetti is cut. Just twirl it on your fork and eat. Fortunately, our officer realized this in time. However, if the spaghetti is in the pan and a big wave hits, the cook may break it out of shock… well, then it’s a different story of course.
The daily routine continues: hoist sails, lower sails, reef in, reef out, tack, yes yes, keeping busy.
Our optimistic captain has now sailed into a depression in search of the Westerlies, and the weather has changed drastically. There is rain, strong winds with gusts of 44 knots, and the ship rolls like never before. Water comes over the side deck, and even our portholes are filling. I don’t allow myself to be afraid. But, to be honest, it’s pretty intense. Everything becomes a challenge. Sleeping works best if you barricade yourself in your bed. Showering is tricky. Eating… don’t get me started. I now understand where the saying “you could make soup of it” comes from. From the stains on my pants, you can read the entire menu of the past few days.
I realize even more that this crossing is not for the faint-hearted. It pushes you to the limits of your physical and mental strength. I couldn’t have imagined what it would be like. And I notice that I probably won’t be able to explain to those at home what this journey does to you and what it gives you. If I had to use one word, it would be “enriching” (thanks to Jaap). Because it is. Even if you long for a bed that doesn’t rock and a drink you can put down without it spilling onto someone else.
Sailing operations in this weather are harder and are carried out with focus and maximum safety. Yet, one afternoon, while working on the foredeck, we are suddenly hit by a huge wave that washes over the deck. Four of us were tied in and, thank God, all four were still standing after the wave. This is sailing, but it hits hard. Immediately, a warm blanket of care and attention spreads across the ship. Everyone can share their story; crew and participants support each other. Cooks Yvonne and Peter immediately serve “comfort food,” including carrot cake, pancakes, and delicious Boeuf Bourguignon. And then… onward we go.
We also cross two time zones (from St. Maarten to the Netherlands, a 5-hour difference), which gave me a record of two hours at the helm during the dog watch! Yes, that easily. Our dog watch ended, and Truus and I held a sung evaluation at 4:30 am. Slowly, the day began to light up… yes, the Blue Watch knows no time.
Today I had the best moment of the entire journey. With Leo beside me at the helm, we tacked. He told me exactly how many degrees to turn the rudder (so none of the credit is mine), yet it was a magical and emotional moment. Everyone and everything on deck. All sails ready, and from the bridge, you have an overview of everything. It’s magical. Incredible that I got to do this.
Finally, I would like to send my warm regards back to the father of the officer.
Fokje Das
March 8, 2023
From the Atlantic Ocean aboard the Eendracht