Monopoly On The Atlantic
A Sunday just like any other Sunday really. Lounge around, do nothing. Dobby and I made half a monopoly board and we caught two dorado, though we decided to put one back.
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Rugby World Champions!
England are the rugby world champions! We followed the progress via the BBC World Service, whose coverage went something like this:
‘There are loads of people here in Sydney preparing for the World Cup. And now back to the news’
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Pilot Whales Lead The Way
Highlight today was seeing pilot whales, which are basically very large dolphins. In fact Simon claims dolphins are for kids and pilot whales are the real thing and I have to say they really are impressive sight swimming in massive pods alongside the boat, especially when they start jumping out of the water.
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Our First Atlantic Swim
Highlight of the day, however, was going for a swim in the middle of nowhere (24’ 40.61N, 18’ 44.12W). With the sun baking down accompanied by slow winds Simon devised a safety harness for us to wear whilst we took it in turns to dive off the bow into the warm, clear blue waters, floating a few miles above the sea bed.
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Sky and Telescope Magazine. Does It Exist?
All good except I’m a little tired and it’s my second day of giving up smoking (yes, again). This was made up by the dorado caught by Rich – a smallish female, though enough meat to go round. In fact I even made my first fish-head broth for lunch and then cooked the fillets for dinner, which had been marinating in lime juice and garlic.
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Leaving Las Palmas
Getting ready for the Atlantic crossing: we were delayed by a day due to a rather extensive shopping trip (a grand total of 1200 Euros!) and the fact that Las Palmas had run out of gas canisters, all taken by the ARC entrants no doubt. The weather prediction was good, with NE to NW winds of 4-5 – perfect.
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Crew: Ocean Indies
Dave the Egret joined us for a 24 hour leg somewhere in the middle of the Atlantic. Obviously tired from flying he decided to take passage on Ocean Indies and earned his keep by staying on anchor watch for the entire time he was aboard. When he parted he left behind a little present for us on the deck.
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Shooting Stars and Flying Fish
Ahhh. Crossing the Atlantic Ocean by boat. Can I put this experience into words? Probably not but as you see I did keep a log for each day and as you read through it you’ll discover that each day was very different. A lot happened. The night time became a lesson in astronomy. Dreaming became a major talking point on this trip. With such a long time at sea a trip like this is no longer an excursion but a lifestyle.
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Securing Our Atlantic Crossing Passage
Tim has been on fine form, making a complete dick of himself on a number of occasions. He peaked on Thursday night aboard another boat, Sanuk, when he knocked over the rum punch, slipped down below getting to the heads (we could see him in the toilet via the hatch, preening and dancing whilst checking himself in the mirror), getting back up onto the pontoon and proceeding to pull off some press-ups in front of a large crowd of people celebrating someone’s birthday.
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Gran Canaria & The Soap-Dodging Hippies
We’ve just been chilling in Las Palmas……or trying to. The fact is Las Palmas sucks. There’s something about Las Palmas that makes it feel ‘tainted’, as Tim described it. It lacks character, though it certainly has atmosphere.
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And So Ends Another Trip
9am and there it was – the great isle of Gran Canaria, welcoming us with hot sun and open arms! We sauntered into the marina, moored up and took our first step on dry land after a rather eventful six days at sea.
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Doing A Tom Sawyer
Like a character out of Tom Sawyer I spent my day bathing and reading on the trampoline and checking my line at the back of the boat, occasionally playing with the line as though I knew what I was doing.
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Fishing Lessons In The Atlantic Swell
It was as we were commenting on the huge waves coming at us that the reel of Dave’s fishing rod began to screech and we all jumped up like a bunch of excited monkeys, swinging around bars and leaping from bench to bench. Of course I instinctively grabbed my camera when I should have been sheeting the gib to slow us down. Vincent sprang into action whilst the rest of us just stood and marvelled at the master in action.
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Another Force 8 And Some Big Waves In The Atlantic
The next 24 hours became a blue of slamming, spray, 5 metre waves and queasiness. Most of the watches were done in saloon, though I preferred being outside, harnessed in and riding the boat as if on a surf board! It was either feel sick and feel sh!tty, or see it for what it was and make the most of it.
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Ten, Eleven, Twelve Knots. Any Faster?
A fellow yachtie we bumped into in the showers warned us of Force 9-10s and 9 metre waves. This didn’t really phase us since Vincent was a grand yacht master (though I don’t know anyone who would want to see him put to the test in those kind of conditions) and the rest of us actually wanted to see 9 metre waves! (How foolish!)
Ten, Eleven, Twelve Knots. Any Faster? Read Post »