The Tip of Cape Horn

We're just passing the tip of Cape Horn, and it's starting to get a little
rocky on the ship. Some people have disappeared into their rooms, and many
started wearing seasick patches this morning. I'm still fine, although I
did take a second meclazine this morning. Today was gorgeous--sunny and
smooth waters off the coast of Argentina. Here begins the Drake Passage,
and we still hope for a smooth crossing, as I think one of the mates said
we were coming in behind a low pressure system. I cannot imagine crossing
these waters in a boat made of wood, or one of only 100 feet or less, like
Shackleton and Scott.

We have a map display which shows us exactly where we are, and I love
looking at it. We are denoted by a bulls-eye symbol that moves ever so
slowly toward the empty blue at the bottom of the screen.

Having had a late afternoon nap, it's time for dinner. We'll hit our first
science station after dinner, but my first shift isn't until 6:00 tomorrow
morning.

It's sort of nice to be in media blackout--no internet, no phone, no
CNN.com. Just our work, the science, and whatever else we want to do (for
me, that's writing poems). Josh, one of the MTs, said he'd heard about my
poem painted on the side of the Seismic van just this last portcall. They
painted over it a long time ago, but I loved knowing that one of my poems,
a sonnet, had ridden around the Antarctic for a while before being covered
up. I made a small mark that way.