Rolling our way, quickly closing in on the Horn. Variable weather and seabirds. 16:30h. Like every second day, no matter rain, swell, or wind, the usual small group interested in having half an hour identifying and counting seabirds gather binoculars, cameras, guidebook, and fill-in form at hand and make their way out on deck. Since weeks ago, we keep going with this Southern Ocean Seabird Survey. The idea behind spending scheduled time out on deck, warm or cold, rain or sunny, is that Bark EUROPA becomes a reliable surveying platform for scientific data collection. The eBird campaign is one of the many Citizen Science projects, all of which involve the guests on board for their development. No other ships have been seen around during our trip so far. Actually, not many follow the sea route we took across the high latitudes of the South Pacific. It is certainly of special relevance to be lucky enough to sail here and be able to collect data from those remote areas in the oceans, along the thousands of miles sailed eastwards, from the 36ºS and all across the South Pacific. And indeed, it is not just about counting birds. For instance, just a glance at our sightings and the ship’s log, or a good look back on memories along our trip, reveals changes in the environment (both in the seas and the atmosphere), the diversity of species, and some of their distribution patterns.

Science isn't just about solving this or that puzzle. It's about understanding how the world works: the whole world, from the vastness of the cosmos to the particularity of an individual human life. It's worth thinking about how all the different ways we have to talk about the world manage to fit together.

Sean M. Carroll. Natural world interrelations, the connections that, thanks to people like Alexander von Humboldt, began to better explain our world. Born in 1769, during an era of enlightenment, he shared the same time with naturalists, artists, and philosophers like Goethe, Forster (Captain Cook's naturalist on his second voyage), Kant, Darwin, Bougainville (who first set foot on Tahiti), Bonpland, and Joseph Banks. As a boy, the journals of James Cook's circumnavigations sparked his imagination and will to travel and discover. Humboldt’s expeditions started at the verge of the 19th century. His adventures and observations revised the view we have of nature. His findings on how biodiversity changes with latitude, longitude, altitude above sea level, and climate areas inspired many, among them Charles Darwin, who wrote that “nothing ever stimulated my zeal so much as reading Humboldt’s Personal Narrative.” Without Humboldt's writings, Darwin considered that he would not have been able to come up with his ideas about the origin of species and natural selection. But his conception of the natural environment didn’t stop at the scientific level; he also worked on the bonds among the so-far-considered different subjects, such as philosophy and art. As Andrea Wulf points out in her book The Invention of Nature, even Henry David Thoreau found in Humboldt’s books an answer to his dilemma on how to be a poet and a naturalist – Walden would have been a very different book without Humboldt.

For ourselves, as a big difference from other days of collecting seabird data, today 5, 6, 10, up to 20 of the beautiful Light-mantled Albatrosses seem to enjoy flying around the ship. They are not alone: Grey-headed and Black-browed join them. A first sighting for the trip of the Southern Fulmar and our first big flocks of Cape Petrels. Of a similar size to the albatrosses, numerous bulkier Giant Petrels share the seas and sky around the ship with them. We could even call it our “Albatross and Petrel Day” as we sail about 300nm from land again. Just ahead of us on a straight course lies the rugged coast of southern Patagonia; slightly south, our first goal of the trip before entering Atlantic waters, Cape Horn.

A day of heavy rolling, grey skies, rain, drizzle, and poor visibility followed. One day we sail in relatively good weather, surrounded by all those amazing birds; the next, the Europa rolls and rolls, now dipping to port, now to starboard, her decks continuously washed. Fewer seabirds are around. But for many, the main concern today is to keep focused at the wheel and get quickly to the right line when sail handling on a rolling main deck filled with water most of the time.

The sea had risen, the vessel was rolling heavily, and everything was pitched about in grand confusion. There was a complete “hurrah’s nest,” as the sailors say, “everything on top and nothing at hand.” – Richard Henry Dana, Two Years Before the Mast

We have already been through some rough seas this trip. We made sure our belongings and the ship’s equipment were sea-fastened… or so we thought until we were under this heavy rolling. Cabins untidy, hallways cluttered with boots and wet foul weather gear. It was a challenge to find the proper clothes to join on deck among all that.

But the worst of it didn’t last very long. The next day, the birds are back. Using their incredible navigation skills, they seem to have avoided the worst of the weather, and then they show up again in large numbers afterward. For most of the day, the sun shines, there is a good beam-reach wind, and the swell is still high. Heeling to starboard now, we reduce sail under winds that blow up to 40 knots. With the conditions we’ve had lately, one day after another, we seem to break the record for miles sailed in 24 hours, which means that Cape Horn is getting closer and closer. Maybe a day and a half from now, we can round it.