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Introduction The passage from Tonga to New Zealand marked a significant departure. We were leaving behind the dreamy magic of the South Pacific and its complementary complacency on board ship.The South Seas had lulled the crew of the Sofia into a euphoric sense of well-being. Amid those tranquil islands, the tall ship and her crew were kindred spirits, hull and hearts buoyed in unison, soul mates sailing along the great equatorial pathway. We were bound for New Zealand, a destination that was to be a homecoming for Sofia and the crew members who had been aboard for her first circumnavigation. New Zealand offered all the luxuries of the civilization we’d left behind—hot showers, shared language, similar currency, recognizable fresh produce. The cost of living promised to be affordable, opportunities diverse and plentiful. Certainly, this port should have boded well for us. Yet, between the Kingdom of Tonga and landfall in New Zealand’s Bay of Islands lay the doldrums. The dictionary loosely defines them as equatorial ocean regions noted for dead calms and light, fluctuating winds. Mariners, using less flowery terms, define them as purgatory at sea—great expanses of ocean where sailing ships will make neither headway nor sternway and will encounter nary a breeze or a detectable change of weather. And no sailor worth his salt is a stranger to them. c h a p t e r 1 0 Deep in the Doldrums Crossing the Horse Latitudes to New Zealand The worst is not always certain but it’s very likely. —french proverb 257 In the past the Sofia’s crew had taken advantage of these phlegmatic zones to work on delicate projects aboard ship that could not be facilitated when underway. I remember once painting the ship’s topsides stem to stern with our bare rumps astride surfboards, our legs dangling like a kelp bed in a bottomless sea that stretched for thousands of empty miles in all directions. Becalmed can be precisely that—relaxing and refreshing, a chance to swim, play, and sunbathe without inhibition in 360 degrees of endless horizon. Still. Silent. Serene. Not bloody likely! Rather, should you find yourself on the approach to a large landfall—say, a continent—that stands in the way of the omnipotent sea’s charge across vast cordons of latitude, you will be treated to yet another phenomenon of the ocean. As these waves attack the distant shore, they meet resistance. Ricocheting off beaches and jetties, they recoil, climbing back on top of themselves and retreating toward open ocean in massive, lumbering, rhythmical mounds of unbroken water known euphemistically as groundswells. They sound innocuous enough, but on a sailing vessel lying well off shore and becalmed, they can be devastating. Sails not only produce forward motion on a ship but also act as steadying agents.Without the benefit of the sails’ towering counterbalance, the narrow, shallow hull of a boat will bob drunkenly atop the surface like a spastic cork as the swells catch the ship on her beam end. Still doesn’t sound too dreadful? Now add thousands of ponderous pounds of spar, rigging, and equipment—rattling, slashing, crashing, and thunking with each violent lurch and counterlurch. Blocks and tackle are whiplashed into deadly weapons. Still air amplifies the slapping of canvas to a deafening volume. Gear breaking free of its lashings slices through open space, slamming and shattering against bulkheads and bulwarks. The crew is able to take only desperate, evasive action. Even while seeking sanctuary in your own bunk, you have to install snug bumpers on all sides of your body to try to allow iron-taut exhausted muscles a brief moment of relaxation. Sailors cynically refer to the doldrums that the Sofia encountered between Tonga and New Zealand as the “horse latitudes.” Historically, trade ships trafficking these waters would be carrying cargoes of horses. During protracted episodes of floating aimlessly beneath a relentless sun (in years past, ships didn’t have the benefit of auxiliary power), the crew’s patience would dwindle in direct proportion to the diminishing stores of food, water, peace, and quiet. The survival needs of the horses quickly became secondary to those of the sailors. Any profits to be gleaned from the safe delivery of horses ultimately had to be sacrificed to save the crew’s lives 258 Crossing the Horse Latitudes and sanity. Consequently, the horses would drop...

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