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.
Crew: Ocean Indies Read Post »
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.
Shooting Stars and Flying Fish Read Post »
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.
Securing Our Atlantic Crossing Passage Read Post »
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.
Gran Canaria & The Soap-Dodging Hippies Read Post »
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.
And So Ends Another Trip Read Post »
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.
Doing A Tom Sawyer Read Post »
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.
Fishing Lessons In The Atlantic Swell Read Post »
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.
Another Force 8 And Some Big Waves In The Atlantic Read Post »
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 »
With a high tide and strong winds the cycle ride became a very wet fairground ride as huge waves battered the sea walls, splashing up to 20ft high and spraying anyone in its path. Like four hung-over pratts on bikes. The trick was all about timing, something that Tim didn’t have, unfortunately for him and his clothes.
Biking Around In Cascais Read Post »
Expecting an open-armed warm welcome, three men appear on the deck looking a bit perplexed at our arrival, what with our kit and bags. Even an explanation of our presence seemed to confuse the guys on board.
The petrol head from Manchester who now lives in Abersoch, Wales. Dave has owned more cars than I’ve had hot dinners, and he’s owned as many boats as he’s owned cars, so he’s got through more engines than I’ve had hot AND cold dinners. In fact he’s owned so many sea-faring vessels he can even boast to owning a pedalo. Until someone nicked it.
Tim and I continued to chase our dream and as I type the latest plan is to fly back down to Portugal and catch a ride on a cat over to the Canaries. I’m not saying any more than this at the moment as it could all go tits up, but it would be fantastic if we ended up doing this: I got off in Portugal in the first place, so to continue from Portugal would be perfect.
Back Where I Started! Read Post »
And that was it. The three remaining crew members packed their bags and we hailed a passing boat and got off Voyager. I shook Paul’s hand and wished him luck, vaguely guilty that we had had a good working relationship, but I knew I had done the right thing.
Five Down! That’s It! Jump Ship! Read Post »
When we got on board Jason helped himself to a beer, which Paul took from him and put back in the fridge. “Where’s my beer gone?” Jason asked. “I’ve put it back in the fridge”, Paul replied. Well, I think you can guess where this one’s going. Before we knew it a huge argument ensued and the skipper was once again screaming at the top of his voice and speaking to Jason as if he were five.
Three Down, Two To Go Read Post »
