Flying into Rio

Sophie B

Last night saw our distance to go fall below 1 000 nautical miles. Our nose is pointed firmly at Rio, and chances are that we will be there within the week – somewhere between Thursday and Saturday seems most likely.

The mood on the boat changes subtly by the day. There is a term for it, not quite Stockholm Syndrome (but earlier post on Dr Google applies). As we get closer to our destination, two conflicting processes are at work.

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The first is the obvious mad dash to the finish, although the end is not quite literally in sight. We talk about Rio, what we are going to do, the caipirinhas we are going to drink.

The second is subtler – a vague unease at the approaching end of the trip. The “real” world also starts to impinge, manifest in conversations about what some of us are planning next with…

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