Now, ten years have passed, and neither the owner of the boat nor the captain at that time have asked me to see my writings, or told me anything about their book, whether it has been published or not. My log has been missing all those years, half sunk under the digital waters, sailing from one computer to the next, almost unnoticed to me, until a few days ago I undertook a rescue and salvage operation, did a bit of a restoring job at the fileyard and refloated my log. The salvage operation has been almost miraculous. My logs, and my computers, have travelled with me, with boats sinking under my feet - well, almost, Shiralee sank barely 12 hours after I left her to go on sick leave - computers being stolen under my nose, and old programs and apps vanishing in the fog of the new technologies.
One usually writes for one's own pleasure, at least that's what I do, but the diary of the South American trip, good, bad or worse, was written to be read by others. And so, here it goes, a little at a time, because it's quite long, and because I do not want to bore the very few readers, if any, who might decide to have a look at it. And so, here is my South American trip.
It comes almost as it was written then, with a little updating and some corrections, but not many.
November 26
Seen from the plane portholes, Rio looked like a Christmas tree, street lights flashing all over the city. It was late at night and I could not see the bay, just its shape, and tried to guess where the Corcovado and the Sugar Loaf might be. After landing and what seemed to me a very long taxi ride, we arrived to the Iate Club de Rio de Janeiro, where the Shenandoah tender picked us up – Anne Marie had been waiting for me at the airport – to take us on board. There she was, a 96 years old beauty floating and shining in the darkness, anchored in between Corcovado, Sugar Loaf Hill and the city. It was very late, and I was very tired, but I did take a few minutes to have a look around the interior that I had not seen before. Although not the original 1902, the woodwork remains very classic, with a very interesting Asian touch, whatever that means – the words are not mine. I went to bed exhausted and jet lagged after fifteen hours travelling, with an excellent first impression, and very happy that I had been offered the position as chef on board and that I had accepted it. The prospect of the forthcoming cruise – Brazil, Argentina and Patagonia, Tierra de Fuego, and then across the Horn to Chilean Patagonia and the Northern Chile Islands, to continue afterwards to New Zealand and stay there until the America's Cup – was also very appealing.
November 27
Waking up in the morning on board a boat whose crew is totally unknown is a weird experience: as I walked in the galley, still sleepy, looking for a coffee, three unknown Filipino faces smiled at me "good morning". I find very difficult trying to be polite and meet new people before morning coffee, but at that moment, and knowing very well that first impressions are important, I made an effort, smiled back and introduced myself. I was still trying to have a coffee, and other crew members appeared, "Hello, I am Rosa!" Lost in the pantry, looking for cereal, milk and the other breakfast bits, and fighting my morning pre-coffee bad mood and my natural shyness, it was some kind of miracle that I appeared pleasant (or so I'd like to think) and smiling to my new crew mates.
Next came the captain, Serge, whom I had met in Cannes, during the Régates Royales, and his wife Anne Marie, who had come to meet me last night at the airport: "bonjour!" That was easy, I had managed to finish coffee and have some breakfast, I was almost my normal self again.
Shenandoah's welcome to their new chef, I, was very warm and pleasant. The day went by as a first day on a new boat usually does, and it finished with some of the crew in a Japanese restaurant, in nearby Ipanema beach, in front of an enormous sushi boat and in the company of an extremely good looking, very attractive, sexy and desirable tall and suntanned young Brazilian surfer and mountaineer, a distant cousin of the young stewardess.
FROM THE GALLEY OF SHENANDOAH - A SOUTH AMERICAN TRIP
November 28
Underway at midmorning, my hopes of a nice sail in the South Atlantic meet with disappointment. Not a drop of wind in sight, and the swell is high and Shenandoah is heavily rolling, although not for long. After lunch, the swell goes down a little and we arrive early in the evening, still with some daylight, to Ilha Grande. We anchor in a little bay where a couple of huts serve food and drinks on the beach. Some of the crew goes ashore before dinner and end up playing ping-pong on the beach.
November 29
Chris, Nicolas, Sébastien, Romy, Salvo and Félix go ashore at 7 am for surf and swim. The rest of the crew follows later. From the beach, we walk a path that crosses a small forest, ending at the other side of the hill, on a magnificent white beach, in the ocean side of the island. The walk is superb, but the parrots we saw last evening are nowhere to be seen now. I wonder if they show only at dusk? We spot some red ants and keep well away from them, some little birds do some singing in the trees, a lizard runs away from us, and at the beach, crabs crawl around sideways, as they usually do.
Some of the boys are still surfing, though with some difficulties: the waves are short and break very quickly, leaving little time to ride them. Soon, some local Sunday tourists arrive to the beach as well, stereos, volley balls and kids in hand. Time to go!
The place is a protected area, with signs that ask people not to litter, kill or take animals or plants home. The water is cold! One would think that at this latitude, at mid-spring and approaching summer and with the tropical looks of the place, the water would be warmer, but it is not. Serge reckons it must be around 20º or 22º only. Still very pleasant, though.
By mid morning we leave Ilha Grande without a drop of wind in sight, a recurrent situation in the days to come, and we motor to Paraty, a tourist resort on development, where we arrive early inthe evening, still with daylight.
The crew goes visiting ashore, where some of us stay for dinner. We leave Paraty after dinner, still no wind, still no clear skies. Since I landed in Rio, the weather has been cloudy, little sun has shown, rain has fallen and I have not yet managed to see the Southern Cross, nor any other Southern hemisphere stars for that matter. Be patient, Rosa!
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