Lost in Translation

My friend Jen, is going to be joining the adventure, but I need to figure out where, when and how I will meet up with her, Chip and Amy after the Peru side trip.  I got an email from Jen and I need to call her from Puerto Natales and tell her to get down to Coyhaique (Balamacada, really, as that's where the airport is) after she arrives in Santiago.  Perhaps we can meet up in the Santiago airport or something.

Recent breakdowns in both myself (see stomach virus) and my bike (nine spokes broken and counting, rear rack sheared a bolt, was fixed by cannibalizing my spare brake cable, which also sheared and was replaced by the same) have lead me to think that I need to reduce the amount of riding on dirt roads and, perhaps, bus more of the Carretera and spend more time exploring Chiloe or Tompkin's Pumalin Reserve.  We, as a group, need to do some planning on Paine and Glaciares before too long!

I've found quite a cool little nook here on the ship (the photo at right is taken from my new secret hideout).  Fully astern -- basically the rearmost, starboard corner -- is a hide-a-way big enough for one just below the a gangway.  Not exactly quiet, as I'm behind the engine, but there's no one else around except the occasional boots of crewman as they tend to engine duties.  And it's protected from the wind.  Just me, my journal, camera and some wine.

Cutting through the last of the archipelago of Chiloe under mostly cloudy skies, we'll turn to sea in an hour or two.  The Gulfo de Penes, which translates to the "Gulf of Sorrow," was originally the Golfo de Peñes, or Gulf of Rocks.  British cartographers didn't have an "ñ" character so it became Penes.

Perhaps it was an appropriate loss in translation.  The strong northerly Humboldt current and the prevailing west-to-east wind along with the sudden change in depth from 350 meters to 2000 makes for very high, very churning seas.  Famous in the winter as a replacement for syrup of ipecac, it's supposed to do a pretty good job of inducing vomiting in the summer as well.

We hit the gulf in about 12 hours.

During the first day's sailing, you could see the snow capped peaks of the Andes in the distances.  Here, deep in the archipelago, the mountains aren't visible but we're promised fjords once we make our Penes crossing.

Remote banging and clanking of chains reminds me that there is constantly work to be done on board.  The winter crossing of Penes takes 36 hours and makes me wonder about the interview process for the crew.