February 03

Yesterday we traveled about three nautical miles, only to be turned back by a failed attempt at a channel crossing. The wind was howling, the waves picking up. Karin called it when we got about half way across the channel. We were all pretty disappointed but the reasons behind the call were later explained at our evening meeting. It was a disappointing day but it ended on a really great note. I was in and out of tears for most of the day but Kate and I decided to do some sunset yoga  - a little bit tough to do in hellys but it felt good to stretch the legs.
During the night we were blasted with wind and rain but the sun has been in and out all day today. After an early morning weather check we got the red light so paddling today is a no-go.We witnessed firsthand the famous "white wall" of Patagonia - a white sheet of rain that can be seen from miles away. As soon as the sun peeks through the clouds, I can feel everyone's spirits lift.
I am looking out across a turquoise ocean. Towering islands drop straight into the sea - their jagged walls are striped from glacial scarring. An ice-capped peak stands across the channel to my right - it, too, is worshipping the sun. This is the life; I don't think I ever want to leave. Today I'm sending lots of love back home to my friends and family.

"The rain I am in is not like the rain of cities. It fills woods with immense and confused sound, with insistent and controlled rhythms. And I listen, because it reminds me again and again that the whole world runs by rhythms I have not yet learned to recognize. The rain surrounds me with it's virginal myth, a whole world of secrecy, of rumor. What a thing it is to sit absolutely alone in a forest at night, cherishing this wonderful, unintelligible, perfectly innocent speech, the most comforting speech in the world, the talk that rain makes by itself. Nobody started it, nobody is going to stop it. It will talk as long as it wants, this rain. As long as it talks, I am going to listen." - Thomas Merton