Spring Moon of the Southern Cross
42 degrees 28 minutes S 72 degrees 55 minutes W
We have come 63 nautical miles since Puerto Montt on a heading of 176 degrees, almost due south. We are in the midst of the fjords and dark, mysterious islands loom on both sides of the ship. Above the cold waters the cumulus clouds of the ocean fought a frontal war with the thick galleons of cumulus sailing out from land. As twilight fell and the temperature differentials shifted, the war was over and shadowy cumulus covered the sky over land and ocean.
A tanker appeared on the horizon, stayed visible for about a half an hour, then vanished. Two small fishing boats were out before sunset, but both headed home as the sun went down.
In many ways the scene outside the ship would look familiar to anyone who has spent time on Lake Superior on any of the very large lakes of northern Minnesota. Pine trees, rocky shorelines and old style fishing boats echo either current or recent past images of these northern waters.
The differences though are greater. First, we’re on salt water, the world ocean squeezes itself in to the nooks and crannies created by the surf carving ancient volcanic land extended from the volcanoes along the shore line.
This part of the trip is the trip of a lifetime. The land and the waters here are seen by few and they remain among the most remote and inaccessible areas in the world. (or so our literature on the ship claims).
They do feel archetypal, as if we travel now among various aspects of Gaia’s collective unconscious. Over the next few days we will move among these limestone and lava wonders, stopping here and there to see a glacier and certain special passage ways like the Darwin channel, the Sarmiento canal, the Beagle Passage, the Magellan Straits.
These are names I learned in elementary school, names synonymous with adventure in the Age of Sail. How lucky are we to be here among them.WSA
