-44.0947222, 158.996111

When I wake in the morning my clock has moved forward an hour. This fascinates me, as it looks like a normal analogue wall clock, but I had given up changing it the night before as I couldn’t seem to take it off the wall, and figured someone will help me later. But it seems the clocks are controlled centrally somehow.

Last night the rocking was more noticeable, despite the fact we still have not seen any waves as such. The rocking meant I was better off on my side, curled in a ball to try giving me breadth and stop sliding back and forth. The sliding kept waking me up.

I am hoping for a storm today but at breakfast the Captain tells me that the weather is good, and I am allowed anywhere on deck, as long as I take my hard hat. He says that we often get flying fish in the middle of the ocean as they jump away startled by the boat, and that they can go as far as 200 feet. He says that he hopes I will go look, and that he will ring my cabin if he sees anything.

The only condition to me wandering around by myself is that I don’t jump off the boat. He laughs and waves his finger “No jumping!”

That seems a fairly basic condition and I decide I will definitely spend some time further up the boat.

He also tells me about the walkway around the accommodation tower at D level, as he knows I like to explore, and asks what I thought of my tour yesterday. I tell him I am very impressed at the engine room, and that I had climbed into the lifeboat. I say that it seems very small, but has many seats.

He nods and says that it fits 30 people, and we only have 26 on board including the passengers. I try to imagine us all squished into one boat and cannot. I hope that in the event we need one, we use both lifeboats anyway.

He asks if I saw the boat on the back that we are transporting, and says that would be far more comfortable!!

It is overcast and slightly misty today, but the deck is still pleasant, and there are still unimaginable amounts of water to watch go past. I spend my morning on the deck.

Lunch is my favourite meal, as it has soup and fruit to accompany what is otherwise a basic and fatty meal. Today the soup sloshes around in the bowl, and I unintentionally laugh out loud when the Chief Mate starts angling his bowl to ensure it stays “flat”. He does not see the humour, and as he has been very reserved so far, I decided it is best if I find somewhere else to be.

I head out to the f’cle deck, at the front and decide to spend some time out there hoping for flying fish. I take a few photos trying to capture the boat from this end, but the containers block the view of anything else, and I have to content myself with photos of the anchor chain, and ropes.

I’d really like a photo of the side of the boat, but the sides are thick, and I am worried about my hard hat falling off into the sea if I have to lean over too much. In the end I concede I’m only going to get a photo by hanging the camera over and angling it. I hold it tight and manage to get a photo of the bulbous bow.

I sit for a while looking into the distance that holds New Zealand, but only shows water. Noone knows where I am. Noone needs me right now, there are no decisions to be made, or tasks to be done. And there is noone here that doesn’t need me. I am 100% free.

After dinner, which was quarter of a pizza plonked on my plate, I head up for sunset photos. I am able to get some nice shots, and decide that I no longer need to get up early for a sunset.

The rest of the evening is spent in my cabin before I head up to the bridge for my nightly coordinates. The Captain is not there, and the Second Mate humours me, zooming out the screen so I can see where we are easier. I estimate we’ll arrive at Foveaux Straight tomorrow, and I have mixed feelings about seeing land again.

I head back down 2 storeys to my room, and triumphantly note that I have not used the elevator at all today