Tuesday 13 March 2012

Top of the World

Given the choice to return to the Cape and sacrifice a day of glaciers, we unanimously decide to return. The wind is now easterly, and favourable for landing. We suceed, to be welcomed by The Alcamar and his son, Ivan and Ivan, and their dog. A single Chilean army family live on Isla Hornos, as well as others peppered through the channels of Tierra Del Fuego. Many, many pictures are taken. The weather is so good,  we return to the yacht with the Alcamar & family for a tour and a beer. Wolf offers the family the gift that never stops giving, until there are no bananas left - it's the gift of bananas. This is quite special for a family who get a monthly delivery of varying quality.

Ivan Jr. has worked out that when offered a biscuit, it's always best to take two. He keeps a firm grasp on his second portion as he muches through the first. Then, it's best to reload as quickly as possible.

I´m then wing man on the boat to return the family to the island. With the job done, we look back and exchange waves with the family. Everyone is having a nice time, waving in the sunshine. Now almost at the yacht, I'm pretty bored of waving, but it occurs to me that the waving is actually calling us to return to shore. We return with mild concern, only to find that we had been speeding away with the precious bananas. Then, some laughter, more waving, and more picture taking, before returning to the bay where I had been rescued in darkness some nights earlier. In the evening, the sun remains out, and so does the beer.

There´s a large map of the world underlying the dining table. As we´re popping a cork on another bottle of red, Wolf and I are sitting at the foot of the world, musing the possibilities of or next trips and laughing at our god-like view.

During the days, I spend a lot of time staring at this map. Nomadic life is quite enjoyable. At least, whilst it has funding.

1 comment:

  1. We find after years of struggle that we do not take a trip; a trip takes us. ...The certain way to be wrong is to think you control it. - John Steinbeck

    This is a wonderful read. Love Nick Whitfield

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