Message from onboard: ‘An albatross’

What could be more clichéd than admiring an albatross in the Southern Ocean? Well, you might argue that it’s just as much a cliché as carrying a baguette around the streets of Paris or snapping a selfie in front of a lavender field in Provence. But still, spotting an albatross in the South Seas is THE question everyone asks us about, and it’s the moment you look forward to.

As I had promised myself, this morning—while trying to make the best of a bad situation (in other words, taking advantage of the sluggish winds that frustrate me because I encounter them before my group does) - I took the rare opportunity to look outside with the doors wide open. A rare privilege aboard these carbon rockets!

And there it was: the famous albatross, instantly giving me goosebumps—the good kind, not the creepy kind. Just like a prince, it drew closer. Yes, closer still. Unbelievable! Only 50 meters away... 40... 30. A little further now, and there you are, close enough for me to fully admire every detail of your finer features. Thank you! I know you won’t stay long, busy as you are, gliding effortlessly, much faster than my boat. But still—thank you.

I just adore an albatross’s face. They have this sort of prominent forehead—or is it an eyebrow? That gives them a look of judgment. It’s a slightly uncomfortable gaze. Andapologies for my anthropomorphism - it’s a presence that feels oddly human, like passing someone on the street. Someone you haven’t seen in ages, someone you’re not entirely sure you recognize (I’ve never been great with faces). You hope they’ll make the first move if they know you, because otherwise, you’d just stand there, awkward and unsure. (Surely, I’m not the only one who does this?)

Anyway, I can’t say for sure if I’ve met this particular albatross before (how long do albatrosses live, anyway? Could they have a few Vendée Globes under their wings?). But for a few seconds, we looked at each other. Suspiciously, on their part. On mine, maybe a bit tearfully. Yes, I know it might be cliché, but albatrosses always have that effect on me.