�...and it's now behind us: the 600 miles northwards from the Le Maire Strait into the south Atlantic. It was a real sod that gave us a wet and lumpy ride.Everything down here is conducted in 25 or 30 knots of wind and although we never had to confront a headwind, the big beam seas were enough to keep us wet most of the time. We were wet, charts were wet, clothes were sodden, once or twice the cockpit filled with seawater, morale was put under severe test when cups of tea went flying. A massive Japanese fishing fleet (catching squid, we guessed) gave us a tricky night with often 20 boats or more visible at one time. Dawn revealed they were all at anchor, riding to a considerable swell, 200 miles offshore! They were not friendly looking fishing boats and the industrialised plundering of the oceans came to mind. On the domestic front, the bread is being rationed to one meal a day, and after that I shall attempt to bake some Irish soda bread. This morning dawned bright and with a fair wind as we scud across a blue sea. Piriapolis our destination, less than a week away now.Mike has cut his finger while making sandwiches for lunch, and Malcolme is going around with a broad grin since he disappeared into the heads (toilet) this morning and was there for some time. We dare not ask him why. We must stock up with fresh fruit next time.