52°32′24″S  169°8′42″E – 46°59’96″S 168°34’57” E

We’re at sea for two days, rolling continuously. I’ve forgotten what upright is, because we only get brief snatches of it on our way to lean in the other direction. Surprisingly, I’m fine with this. It becomes soothing. The sea is endless around us. Occasionally the horizon vanishes into rain that passes in short squalls. There are seabirds everywhere, but the decks are closed because they’re wet with spray and we’re rolling too much for it to be safe.

I spend my time on the bridge, spotting birds with binoculars, my camera hanging unused at my side. Every now and then I make my way down to the library for a half-full cup of tea, and watch the sky and sea alternate through the windows. Meal times are enjoyable, keeping a constant swing in time with the ship – the windows of the galley washed every time we hit a large swell. Evenings are the best, the sky gold and pink and the sea plunging into fathomless black, crested with white waves.

After anchoring by Stewart Island/Rakiura, we overnight in the lee of the island before steaming into Bluff just after dawn. The sea is still, the air quiet. Land looms around us as the Southern Ocean fades into blue behind. Sunlight suffuses through high cloud, and the air is soft and warm. Soon, we’ll be back on land. A solitary Cape Petrel flutters a farewell behind the ship, before vanishing back out to sea. All adventures must come to an end. But I could always stand for them to last just a little longer.