The route we decided to take was the most difficult one we could undertaken in this area: we would go to Ushuaia, the southern tip of Argentina, and then go up the Chilean channels to Puerto Montt. Rough seas, changing winds, currents and tides. We knew that many ships don't make it, they have to turn around, try again another year, if they still have the time and courage to do so. But the whole crew agreed: however difficult it was, we wanted to try. Those challenging seas, that virgin nature, those passages full of ancient stories. The adventure...the adventure! In Mar del Plata we prepared the boat withour small budget: we installed a new autopilot, we lengthened the anchor chain with a good rope, we bought 200 meters of floating mooring lines, we bought a satellite phone that could be used to receive the forecast, we installed a small heater and we cleaned the diesel tank. We saw familyand friends, wich of course was very nice but my mind was focused on  the preparation.  We met up with old captains who knew the south very well: we listened to every piece of advice, I noted down every recommended bay. Talking about sailboats and winds was my true language at that time.

I take you often n a ride across the seas and I feel happy doing so, because I receive beautiful messages that fill my soul, messages where you thank me for “bringing you” on board, for sharing, where you tell me that our courage and our passion for life inspires and encourages you in difficult times, and you don’t know how much I care about being able to share, because I truly believe that we can break down walls, preconceived ideas, and that by doing so one finds a liberating path. We have questioned everything, from the way of giving birth to the way of educating, to the way of living everyday life, and if that inspires others to listen what says the deepest rationality, that is our instinct, then I feel fulfilled. In 18 years of nomadic life, my house has been the place where I found myself, and the people who have welcomed us, without even knowing us, who have shared a moment, a chat, a story, have made that house a home.

Leaving Luderitz . Leaving those months trapped by the needs of the ship. And its dry and bright days, its long dock of tilted wood, the dusty streets and the repeated faces of the town. Lifting anchor after two failed cast off, after seeing several sailboats move away towards the west while we continued searching for the invisible, dismantling our boat to the unthinkable.

This article is probably just about a series of mistakes made by two vagabonds who went to sea without knowing either about ships or the sea, and who learn along the way. Maybe it will help some other sailor not to repeat those same mistakes.

larriving at Richar Bay 

Since some time I wish to write this post about the use of the screen in the childhood- The more time passes, the more I find boys and girls addicted to that non-space that is the screen. Many parents believe that it is a comfortable way to free up time, to avoid conflicts, but many times what seems “easy” is actually not. Many parents think that they cannot regulate or cut off screen use because that would leave their children excluded from their social group. Although many times large groups have made immense mistakes- Choose to do the same to not be excluded would be more absurd than taking some distance with a system that clearly is dangerous for the health of the little ones and their development.

We met, on the streets of Diego Suarez, a cargo Chilean captain, and we started to chat. Excited about our story, he invited us to dinner on his boat. We left the dinghy tied up to the small dock made for that purpose, and we went to visit our new friend. With great pleasure he showed us the ship's command center (the bridge), the cabins, the machines and explained to us how the boat works. At around 8pm we left, apologizing, telling him that we did not want to leave the dinghy and the boat alone for a long time. When we arrived at the small dock, the dinghy was not there. Only a part of the moors cut.

It's raining. I am surrounded by green, a lot of green, there is no horizon, everything around is jungle. I am in the house of Seba, a man we met a few days ago at the port, and a few hours after we met he invited us to his place. We had also met other sailors a few days before, and they promised to take care of the boat and the cat while we were gone. Things happen like this, without expecting that.

We spent 22 days in the Ocean between Seychelles and Tanzania. We were anchoring at the Seychelles remote islands, up to 200 miles south of Victoria Island. Then it was 800 miles of pure water. During those three weeks I felt outside of the world, and I have to admit that I like it. Outside of the human made world, absurd societies that create their own wants and the others necessities too, so much vain noise and illusory needs. And deep inside a world made of waters and winds, with its impartial laws that bring balance to the so much life that arises from it.

We stayed a few days in Djibouti, preparing to sail through the Gulf of Aden - We got very tired, we rested little - What followed was a trip where fatigue and worries clouded our understanding, in which we made several bad decisions and a few good ones. It could be the story of why we couldn't reach the Indian Ocean, because we had to give up and turn around. Fortunately, it’s not’. We grab to the conviction that we could do it, and we fought the fatalism that many times surrounded us.

“This dream will therefore remain in myself, like a leaven of energy  – a source of warmth where, without knowing it, I will be able to have the strength to undertake and fight  – no matter the chimera, only its pursuit is worth it – if the fortune, let’s say , does not like the old man, it is because they have become incapable of believing in these chimeras - these mirages of the spirit - the young people, they always hope to reach them and pursue them with enthusiasm, they overthrow the obstacle, without taking the time to measure it, or fear it”            Henry de Monfreid

On the sea 69 people driftThey think they die.The sea is a prison without wallsand with a horizon of promises.Some are intoxicated:so much water and die of thirst.They launch a call that reaches where it had to go.Who knows the paths they traveled up to here?Who knows of the paths that await them?That deep despair, that promise of freedom...That is also the sea.