A joint effort with guest blogger Rainer Shine...
The Beagle Channel was fading behind us as we entered the mystical void between the Atlantic and the Pacific. It was a hell of a ride, the foam swirling around our ears, the waves lapping at our eyebrows, and the rush of bubbling water leaving its briny taste on our lips.
We had heard the legendary tales of the seas, replayed over and over on the ship's Channel 22, relayed by self proclaimed expert rencontreurs who ride the cruise lines for a stipend just to entertain us gullible landlubbers. But Mickey and Milos and Professor Jim could not have fully prepared us for what lay ahead!
One is never quite ready for the unknown, even if embellished during the enlightenment of the Podium at Sea education series.
At the break of dawn, fatigued passengers rubbed their eyes, babies were crying, women shoving for better positions at the railing while tying down their hoods and tightening their scarves, in some cases only binoculars peered through the facial wrap. But were we really ready, as the jagged rocks of the Cape broke through the surf, showing its "teeth", as the captain described them, while he commenced a series of announcements to calm us and keep us in awe.
At the break of dawn, fatigued passengers rubbed their eyes, babies were crying, women shoving for better positions at the railing while tying down their hoods and tightening their scarves, in some cases only binoculars peered through the facial wrap. But were we really ready, as the jagged rocks of the Cape broke through the surf, showing its "teeth", as the captain described them, while he commenced a series of announcements to calm us and keep us in awe.
A few passengers left their cherished positions to reload on coffee or heap plates with smoked salmon and pickled herring; you could never be prepared enough or know when you might have your last meal.
The albatrosses seemed nonchalant in skimming over waves, imitating the remaining half of the statue atop the Cape dedicated to the souls of lost mariners. They had seen this dance before and were not about to let a monstrous vessel disturb their routine; they have felt the might of the clashing oceans and knew that the power of the Cape was far greater than anything man (or woman) could produce.
Back to the swirling and bubbling and foam, just as the cauldron was heating up, the skirl of bagpipes rose from the whistling winds, we were barely able to discern the "Sailor's Horn Pipe"; leave it to a Scot to face fate in the only dignified way as a lone piper marched along the upper deck in mournful premonition of Robbie Burns. Not sure if there was whiskey involved... but he seemed so stoic, we raised our coffee mugs in salute.
We knew then there was only one way for us to persevere, push the button again on the hot tub, crank up the hot water and submerse the chin into the bubbles while the brisk breeze pushed the foam around us.
And so, good friends, that is how we survived, sailing our hot tub around Cape Horn. We knew it was safe to come out when the pool butler brought us warm fluffy towels and advised there was a time limit to being submersed in hot water.
Cruising around the Cape was Hell! But someone had to do it.
Once towelled off and back on dry land (deck) and we found our sea legs again, there was the ever popular Sale Around the Cape, with riches from the treasure chest - bags, trinkets, t-shirts and the ever-popular glass penguins made in China.
We had lunch the following day and met a couple at our table. We mentioned that we sailed a hot tub around the cape, and they said "Oh, was it you guys? We had heard there was a couple in the hot tub with drinks". Yeah, that was us, the drinks were coffee and tea - it was 6 am after all.
All this to say, it was a picture-perfect day, notwithstanding the 5:30 am start and initial rain and overcast skies, the crew said that it was almost unheard of for the sun to break through and we had the second-best weather and smoothest seas ever.
We're not sure why Magellan or Drake made such a fuss...the piper was a nice touch, and timely for Robbie Burns Day to boot! Och aye!
Inscription on Cape Horn Monument
I, the albatross that awaits for you at the end of the world...
I, the forgotten soul of the sailors lost that crossed Cape Horn from all the seas of the world.
But die they did not
in the fierce waves,
for today towards eternity
in my wings they soar
in the last crevice
of the Antarctic winds
in the fierce waves,
for today towards eternity
in my wings they soar
in the last crevice
of the Antarctic winds
Sara Vial
Dec - 1992
