If you’ve been following my tracker you might have noticed how close I’m getting to Isla Guadalupe. When I woke up this morning I could see a low dark smudge on the horizon, which looked like a cloud. Although I’m still about 40 miles away, it has been grown larger and clearer all day as I’ve pushed toward it. Guadalupe is the rugged remains of two ancient volcanos, and towers high out of the water, so I’m really looking forward to seeing it become even clearer tomorrow.
As you might have guessed from the title, Guadalupe is not my destination – I need to row past it and then on for several hundred miles more to mainland Mexico. It would have been a hugely exciting place to land, but unfortunately not ideal logistically. It is still pretty awesome to see it though, and anyone who has been at sea for a long time will know what it’s like to first look on land again (even if it’s just a small island). Suddenly my horizon does not stretch out the same distance in every direction; it is not an unbroken circle all around me. My eyes can’t help but be drawn to the lumpy shape in the distance.
Tonight it is cloudy, but I’ve been lucky most of the last week to have clear night skies. Last time there was a run of clear skies at night, a few weeks ago, there was also the brightest moon I’ve ever seen – breathtaking in itself, but not good for stargazing. This week I’ve been rewarded at night with the most fantastic night skies. The stars reach down to the flat horizon in every direction, every single one visible and unobscured by hills, trees or houses. It’s like being upside down in a star filled pool. There are just so many of them, and the whole sky seems so much busier out here. Stars are twinkling on top of each other, shooting stars flash across the sky, and the whole sky shifts gently and the boat bobs around. I’ve caught myself with my mouth hanging open on numerous occasions, completely unaware of myself as I gaze upwards.