At Sea
Tristan da Cunha and its sister islands lay in our wake, a fresh but already fading memory. Our fortune there had been great. We had landed on all three principle islands in a span of two days. A collection of diverse experiences were our trophies. Could so much have been accomplished in such a short period of time? Indeed – and that because weather and providence had been in our favor. With a glorious window of opportunity presented to us by the forces of nature, we had seized the moment and taken advantage of all openings.
This became abundantly clear when the morrow arrived. Periodic lurches and the uneasy, shifting cadence of the National Geographic Explorer let us all know upon rising from slumber that King Neptune had once again groggily awaken from the deep, unsettled and ireful. His humid breaths rhythmically drove northerly swells against our vessel. The sky was gray with clouds, and in places on the horizon it shaded to menacing colors of charcoal streaked with even darker veils of thick-falling rain. Our two days in the Tristan archipelago had been a calm window of reprieve between low-pressure systems. The first had been cold, bitter, and driving, the second, sub-tropical, rain-soaked, and swollen with warm power. And both had pushed a seemingly un-ending barrage of swells across the interface between sea and sky.
The day was once again the realm of reflection and discussion. At the forefront was our great fortune at Tristan and her neighbors. The inclement weather systems sandwiching our time there served to highlight this salient fact. Indeed it heightened our appreciation for just how fortuitous our time and experiences had been. So Neptune, throw it at us! Show us what you’ve got! For we have received what we came looking for. We have only now to sail home. In the afterglow of such a prize, neither rough seas, nor a lugubrious sky could dampen our spirits.
By late afternoon the waters of the South Atlantic had begun to noticeably settle. Neptune was laying back to rest. Skies were starting to clear, and the strong winds had been reduced to tepid breezes. The confused anger of the sea had been halved. Low-angled light turned the waters once again to silver nearer the sun. While looking away from its direct glare, they reflected warmer, more inviting tones of blue. Yellow-nosed albatrosses, which only recently had been riding the powerful currents of air, began to once again alight on the sea’s calming surface.
Tristan da Cunha and its sister islands lay in our wake, a fresh but already fading memory. Our fortune there had been great. We had landed on all three principle islands in a span of two days. A collection of diverse experiences were our trophies. Could so much have been accomplished in such a short period of time? Indeed – and that because weather and providence had been in our favor. With a glorious window of opportunity presented to us by the forces of nature, we had seized the moment and taken advantage of all openings.
This became abundantly clear when the morrow arrived. Periodic lurches and the uneasy, shifting cadence of the National Geographic Explorer let us all know upon rising from slumber that King Neptune had once again groggily awaken from the deep, unsettled and ireful. His humid breaths rhythmically drove northerly swells against our vessel. The sky was gray with clouds, and in places on the horizon it shaded to menacing colors of charcoal streaked with even darker veils of thick-falling rain. Our two days in the Tristan archipelago had been a calm window of reprieve between low-pressure systems. The first had been cold, bitter, and driving, the second, sub-tropical, rain-soaked, and swollen with warm power. And both had pushed a seemingly un-ending barrage of swells across the interface between sea and sky.
The day was once again the realm of reflection and discussion. At the forefront was our great fortune at Tristan and her neighbors. The inclement weather systems sandwiching our time there served to highlight this salient fact. Indeed it heightened our appreciation for just how fortuitous our time and experiences had been. So Neptune, throw it at us! Show us what you’ve got! For we have received what we came looking for. We have only now to sail home. In the afterglow of such a prize, neither rough seas, nor a lugubrious sky could dampen our spirits.
By late afternoon the waters of the South Atlantic had begun to noticeably settle. Neptune was laying back to rest. Skies were starting to clear, and the strong winds had been reduced to tepid breezes. The confused anger of the sea had been halved. Low-angled light turned the waters once again to silver nearer the sun. While looking away from its direct glare, they reflected warmer, more inviting tones of blue. Yellow-nosed albatrosses, which only recently had been riding the powerful currents of air, began to once again alight on the sea’s calming surface.
