More than five long years had passed since I was last in the austral Atlantic Ocean. Some of those years, spent in the arid Brazilian capital, had made these fifteen days aboard a longline vessel a learning experience of the real meaning of living at, and from the sea.
The daily routines, the isolation, the struggle against time and bad weather, the ocean and its singularities, fishing adversities and the interactions with humans and nature surfaced long lost and even unknown feelings. The vessel I sailed with was the Floripa SL 3, steered by the great Captain Dudu, and his experienced crew (Zemildo, Ronaldo, Erax, Jó, Neguinho and Wallace). Life at sea is a challenging test of coexisting, self-control and a strain on all the emotions.
Spending days confined in a small place amongst totally unknown people, while dealing with the rolling motion of the boat weighs heavy on your energy levels, especially without news from land and family.
Just before leaving port, I was informed that we needed to assist a vessel in distress that had been drifting for a few days. If that news wasn’t enough for our pre- cruise adrenaline, the rain and the wind started picking up.
Leaving the port of Itajaí, the last message sent to my wife and child on land was, “I love you very much my beautiful, I’ll be back soon. Take care of our little Viking, and tell him that dad will be right back!!”
With that said the journey and the isolation began. After 12 or so hours of navigation, a Yellow-nosed albatross accompanied us to where the drifting vessel was spotted. Long hours passed, until suddenly an engine roar was heard, followed by a scream of “Its working!” It was a relief for everybody, at last the crew from the broken boat could return to work, and eventually home, and we could finally start fishing.
Below: A Yellow-nosed albatross guides us to the drifting ship
After two days with low catches, a new bad weather warning came through on the radio (Beaufort 8 ~9). Once again the spirits were shaken, and a new expression was printed on the faces of the crew members; a mixture of apprehension and concern. With the announcement of bad weather our only option was to drop anchor and face the storm; it was a rough night, with a lot of wind, bad seas and little sleep. The sound of waves crashing against the wooden hull gave us the impression that the boat was about to crack. In all this, small events occurred to lift our spirits. Sometimes an albatross flying so close that I could almost touch it, other times the illustrious presence of friendly dolphins. Sad moments, happy moments, that’s the life at sea.
Eventually, the storm lifted and as an old fishing saying goes; “After the storm comes the bonanza”. With the calming seas we found good fishing grounds and we started to fill the hold.
After several days with barely any sleep, and the last three days without drinkable water, we returned to port, which was for sure the best moment of the trip. There is nothing better than returning home to your family’s affection.