Solo French rower Maud Fontenoy is just two weeks into her trans-Pacific blister-fest, I mean oceanic row, from Peru to French Polynesia (which is Tahiti to most of the world; they just can’t give it up, can they?). She’s covered 591 miles, which is a decent 42 miles per day. But she’s got, gulp, 3,729 to go, which likely means at least another 100 days at sea. Luckily, she seems to have a full supply of magic mushrooms to help her cope, at least that’s what I conclude from this recent dispatch (I mean, I know I only talked this way when I was shrooming…):
“I rowed late; the sun went down as if looking for the freshness of the ocean.
The heat is so important that you think all the elements are boiling. The sea is bubbles, clouds of condensation appear at the horizon, The light is so bright that it blinds me.
The sky is mantling bit by bit, my eyes adapt slowly and I can see the first colors of the sunset. The clouds around the sun becomes like a tinged with pink; I can see a flower. Standing in my cockpit, I’m dreaming….
And slowly, quietly the night comes and my favourite lighthouse appear: it’s full moon and this quiet light calms my anguish. I can’t take my eyes away from it. The sea takes mysterious tincts. I hear the waves purruing near OCÉOR, but I already think to something else….how, after all that, is it possible to have doubts on what made me come here !
Don’t forget to look up.”
Very freaky, Mme. Maud. Unfortunately the supply apparently is not sufficient to ‘shroom every day (even if that were possible). Because here is the next dispatch she sent in:
“Storm / breaking waves / sky with thick clouds.
The daylight has disappeared. A clamy heat makes breathing difficult.
I’m tired.
Hope that it will be more quiet soon.”
You can just feel her head throbbing. So let’s call it hangover Haiku. All foolin’ aside, it’s worth reading through Maud’s dispatches because they are endearing, revealing, and full of interesting detail about fishing, the pleasures of a clean T-shirt, and the battle against salt…
How To Survive 150 Days Alone On A Rowboat: “If yesterday was mushrooms, today must be spliff-day. And I know my stash is in here somewhere…”
The Earthist Chronicles 