Erin came up to the bridge a few minutes ago, asking if we could stop for a swim call. I was not too surprised. Our New Zealand colleagues had gone swimming every afternoon when we were anchored in the lee of North Cape last week, waiting out the gales. Though we are now 300 miles from shore, swim calls still happen. But in the Tasman in the winter, you have to be tough!

Half a dozen or so of our bravest jumped in. Erin from Australia, Dave from Ireland, and first mate Oscar were the only non-locals in the group. And Oscar did not stay in long.

We have noticed when the trawlers start to haul their nets, albatrosses immediately gather around in very large numbers. Seeing a stopped boat on the fishing grounds, with debris floating around, several of the birds assumed it was dinner time.

They came in and landed near the swimmers, and paddled right up to a meter away, before realising these were strange fish. And these fish did not seem quite dead. But is was not until the strange non-so-quite dead fish would swim towards them that the albatrosses would decide to leave in a big hurry. They would come back time after time, hoping the floating debris would stop splashing long enough to be eaten.

Albatrosses look like seagulls on steroids - they are the size of a big domestic turkey (which, in the US, are also probably on steroids). If you see one take off, you would understand why they never like to land. Their feet slap the water, their tails wiggle back and forth, it's a lot of work. Maybe not as much as a swan, but you get the idea.

The closest any of the crew got was our hot boat driver Logi, who would swim up to them every so slowly. Remember, albatrosses spend their lives flying along and looking into the water. None got fooled. It was a great show, and not one I will soon forget.

- Pete