ALBACORA 



of ocean birds in the sky: somersaulting cormorants, 

 swooping gulls, gliding pelicans; and, high up above the 

 rest, stately white albatrosses were drifting. Far off, 

 where the gray blotted out the horizon, shadowy waves 

 slowly lifted and rolled toward me. It was then that I 

 felt an overwhelming loneliness. Riding into that great 

 sea was almost holy, like walking alone into a dark 

 and ancient cathedral. 



Dawn broke without warning over the Chilean moun- 

 tains. Fiery holes burst through the huge black cur- 

 tain, and the water answered with blazing reds and 

 golds. Loneliness — and peace — vanished. "Hey, Genie," 

 someone shouted. "How about breakfast?" 



Over eggs, Lou and Hedley Doty, the photographer 

 we had engaged for the expedition, talked eagerly 

 about this first day's business. "How many cameras in 

 all?" I asked, pointing to a pile of equipment that 

 might have honored a photo studio and looked partic- 

 ularly imposing in the Explorer's compact dinette. 



"Eleven for stills," Doty said. "Rolleiflexes, Con- 

 taxes and Leicas. Then we've got three cameras for 



movies." 



"Today's show is going to start with the WaWa/' Lou 

 announced. 



Doty looked perplexed. "What's a WaWa?" he asked. 



"That aluminum skiff we're towing," Lou said, al- 

 most impatiently. "The natives around Iquique named 

 our skiff WaWa.' It means baby. We want some action 



