Current Date: 08-Mar-2020
Current Location: Le Marin Marina, Martinique
Four days have passed now since we made landfall in Martinique and our three weeks of crew bonding, isolation and total self-sufficiency are starting to seem like a dream. For me it’s been a much easier passage than the journey across the Atlantic on Petronella, mainly because we have a bigger boat that rolled gently rather than violently and just went faster. And we had better winds which sent us flying across the sea in more or less the right direction. I very much appreciated the support freely given by highly experienced sailor Irish John and Mariel’s cooking was superb. A good choice of crew. Lying in my berth, off watch, I would listen to the conversations on deck and marvel at how much laughter there was between the three crew. Mehalah was a happy boat.
This is the poem I wrote for our last meal together. It probably needs the gin and tonics we had drunk before to make it scan properly but there you go!
The Ballad of Mehalah
Yacht Mehalah she went out to sea
With John Douch, Irish John, M and G
Now we’ve reached Martinique, pretty cool, pretty chic,
Do we want to go home? No, not we!
Skipper Gilly’s in charge of the crew,
They’re so good there is little to do
No matter what tack they’re right there at her back
Even lending their loo for a poo!
Next it’s first mate and engineer John,
When he’s here, even though things go wrong
In the dead of the night he puts everything right
And his favourite shout is “Fish On”!
Irish John’s a fine horseman from Cork,
Who can sail and can certainly talk
With his soft Irish voice he’s a very good choice
Though his Speedos make Mariel squark!
So we come to the last of the crew,
Mariel, an adventure for you.
Though you fought with the motion of crossing an ocean
Your cooking stayed pure cordon blue.
But no, there’s a fifth silent guest.
He’s the crewman who never needs rest.
In the sun or a squall we hand over to Paul,
Aries windvane we vote you the best.
So sadly it’s bye to the crew
We have so enjoyed sailing with you
And though we must part you’re still there in my heart
Mariel, Irish John, thanks, adieu.
Irish John is back home now and Mariel is looking for her next passage north, whilst John and I have plans to make and change with unforeseen external influences making any detailed planning very difficult. Watch this space.
It has taken nearly thirty people to get Mehalah ready to sail an ocean and support us whilst she is doing it. All those wonderful friends who came down to Plymouth in the winter to fix problems and improve the boat, Linda, Jack and Fizzy who crewed bits of the journey as far as Lanzarote and our amazing crew Irish John and Mariel, our medics, routers, all those friends who sent messages of support, Phil and Jane who made it possible for us to go, and of course our wonderful daughters Jenny and Emma who provided first class shore support and much love. And finally John who is just fantastic. Thank you all.
Gill
Sunday, 8 March 2020
Thursday, 5 March 2020
Atlantic Crossing - Day 24 - We have arrived!
Blogger: Mariel
Date: 5-Mar-2020
Location: At anchor in St Anne's, Martinique!
Total to Date: 2948nm (0nm to go)
Final 22 Hour Run: 118nm
Wednesday 4th March, 18:52
The last sunset of the passage (unless something goes very wrong). This afternoon, I played my desert island discs through John D's bluetooth speaker and explained my choices, which was far more emotional than I'd been expecting. (If you've joined this blog since we set off from Lanzarote, scroll back a month to see what my discs were and why I chose them). I only listened to them a few times on the passage, but they made me laugh, smile, tap my fingers and toes and weep on different occasions. I decided that the disc I would save from the waves was my brothers Alec and Tim with Alec's Instructions for When Feeling Crap, for his wisdom and for all the memories that hearing them play and sing brings.
When the Desert Island Discs had finished, I spotted a vessel on the AIS - a Martinique fishing boat, and our first sign of the Caribbean.
The breeze is still very warm. We have shared our highlights and lowlights from the voyage, and our feelings regarding arrival. I am feeling EXCITED. This is way better than Christmas. We still don't know when we will first see land, but we do know that it will be some time during the night, and that come morning, Martinique should be visible. Irish John says that he will row ashore, get on his hands and knees and kiss the sand, and I have to say I agree with him.
19:44
Crackle, crackle... the echo of a voice. What's that...? The radio! The first noises from the outside world we have heard for three weeks. Gill and John laughed at me as I scrambled for the radio and picked it up to listen to. There was only really static, but I held it to my ear as if it were music. There is life out there, and it's no longer so far away!
20:00
I have taken myself down to bed, even though I feel far too excited to sleep. I joked with Gill that I might leave one of the socks I stowed away as I prepared for landfall this afternoon at the end of my bed and see if there is one of the last 3 oranges in it come morning. More likely a shrivelled aubergine, or bit of ginger fallen from the net above my head.
My phone is no longer on airplane mode so I will know when we reach mobile signal - but do I want to know or would I rather not be distracted while we arrive, and only turn it on once we are there? I am so excited to be able to talk to the people I have missed so much, but have relished the lack of distraction and intrusion that the modern world pushes in.
Sleep, Mariel, sleep.
23:28 - nightwatch
The final nightwatch! Despite the excitement, I must have fallen asleep at some point because I was woken abruptly by my alarm at 22:40, thinking I might have overslept. It took a few bleary eyed moments to remember how close to land we were and wonder if there was any sign of it yet.
I lay there a few minutes, allowing myself to wake up slowly, before pulling on my shorts and tshirt and heading up into the cockpit. My handover from Irish John began a little differently to usual, with an update on our two new passengers - still present. Soon after 8pm, when IJ had stuck Bon Jovi in his ears and assumed his nightly starfish position (apparently to brace himself, although Gill and I suspect he might just be making the most of the space that we don't have), JD had had a wash and was just getting into bed, and I had just closed my eyes, there came shrieks and flashing lights from the cockpit. IJ came stumbling out from the forepeak. Unable to distinguish any of Gill's words, he thought perhaps there had been a gas explosion or something, but lying just below the open hatch, I could hear Gill shout "bird! bird!" and see it's flapping wings above me.
In various stages of undress, the two John's and I stuck our heads into the cockpit to look at the rather dishevelled-looking brown bird perched at the top of the steps - hello! what are you doing here?!
Photos were taken, and having determined that it wasn't about to fly away again, clothes were put on and the bird book brought out. My best guess is a Brown Noddy, although it is a little hard to tell in the darkness. One of its webbed feet seems deformed, curled up and only half the size of the other.
IJ picked it up and put it on the cushion behind the helm, where it rocked back and forth with the motion of the boat. It reminded me of a tired child who refuses to admit it or go to bed, who sways back and forth in their chair before faceplanting into their dinner bowl. Excitement over, I returned to bed for attempt 2 at sleeping. With less than half an hour before he took over watch, IJ stayed up in the cockpit with Gill.
Minutes later, I was disturbed by more calls of "look at that bird!" and "is it coming in to land?!" I stuck my head up on deck again - sure enough, a second bird has come in to land, this time on the life buoy aft of the port solar panel, and is rocking in time with our buddy behind the helm.
We watch for a while, wondering if they'll go to meet each other and why on earth they are here, but neither seem to move. I see another bird fly past and we have visions of arriving in Martinique a menagerie Dr Doolittle would be proud of, but this one keeps flying and I returned to bed - third time lucky, and I fell asleep.
And they are both still here, in the same positions. IJ reports that the bird at the helm has preened itself and stretched its wings for a couple of flaps and that he has mopped up a couple of white poos running down the cushion. I hear a quiet 'peewee' - he says they have chirped to each other a couple of times.
The rest of the handover continues as normal - 10-15 knots of wind from the East, down from 15-20. Running at around 5 knots, course 280 degrees. We are aiming for 264 and he gives Paul a tug to port to correct us. No further ships to report, nor voices on the radio.
No sign yet of the loom of Martinique or any flashes from the lighthouses, but we are still almost 50nm away.
I settle in to the nightwatch seat as IJ descends the steps. Gill gets up to plot our position again (this time on the chart of Martinique and Guadeloupe, rather than the chart covering the whole of the north atlantic), and IJ remarks that she is too excited to sleep. I call down that Santa won't come if she doesn't close her eyes.
The breeze is warm and I am still just in shorts and a tshirt. The thermometer read 30C at lunchtime.
I scan the horizon for lights - my eyes have been telling me there are specks on the horizon for a few nights now. The moon is reflecting off the sea in the west, exactly where we are heading and where we expect the first signs of Martinique to appear from, making it even harder to see. Orion shows faintly ahead of us, but the waxing gibbous (half moon) is too bright for most other stars to show. We have just passed 2900nm travelled since La Palma. We are at 14 degrees 30 North and 60 degrees 10 West - both the right degrees of Lat and Long for our destination. 43.6 nm to go. ETA 08.07. Gill is up plotting again. Our birds are still swaying. Back to scanning the horizon for me.
00:33
A flashing light, but this one is in the sky, passing through Orion's legs - an airplane. From up there, they'd be able to see our tiny tricolour bobbing about in the sea, and the lights of Martinique in the same view.
This hasn't always been an easy journey, but I'm much happier to be arriving by sail than by plane. 2903 miles down, 40.4 to go.
00:45
The faint glow behind me tells me that JD has just put the light on in the aft cabin and is getting ready to get up and relieve me of my watch. Still no sign of a loom or any lighthouses, or indeed any ships or other sailing vessels.
JD thought we'd see the first sailboat at 120nm, Gill 100nm. It's now between Irish John and me at 30 and 20 nm respectively.
The two birds are still rocking gently behind me with their heads tucked beneath their wings. Almost time for me to return to my bunk and let the ocean rock me to sleep for the last time.
04:00
LAND AHOY!! Gill just called from the cockpit and I blearily pulled on my tshirt and stumbled up. G, J and J had all called a false alarm half an hour previously (it turned out to be a ship, not the lighthouse they had thought), which I hadn't got up for, but this time it was just me who rose.
"What can you see, Gill?"
"I can see Martinique!"
I look out over the side - maybe a faint glow on the horizon. Gill put the binoculars into my hands - "Lights! Look!"
I raise them to my eyes, and sure enough, hundreds of lights glittering on the horizon. Land, at last. Gill hugs me. We have made it nearly 3000nm across an ocean and can see the small piece of land we have been aiming for all the way.
I look around. The bird is still behind the helm, and Gill says a third has landed on the starboard solar panel (where else?!) Still half asleep, I have come back down to my bunk for another precious couple of hours before dawn. 24 nm to go.
0708 (or 0608, Martinique time)
The sky is lightening, and Martinique is clearly visible, only a few miles away to starboard. We have counted the flashes of the lighthouse (4 every 15 seconds) and are heading south of it, around the corner into the anchorage. I was roused from my dosing at 5am by a 'ping', followed a few seconds later by a rapid burst 'pingpingpingping' from Irish John's phone up in the cockpit as we re-entered the realm of modern technology. My phone took another hour and a half to show much or be able to send any messages home. There was little sleep to be had after land was sighted, and now we are all wide awake in the cockpit, mugs of tea in hand.
13:34 - at anchor in St Anne's
We have arrived. Other than an engine that wouldn't start the first few times, we had a very smooth and uneventful arrival into the anchorage. Anchor down at 08:30, 2 hours and 7 minutes earlier than the time predicted by JD 3 weeks ago. He was awarded a very well deserved bar of (his own) Green and Black's chocolate as a prize. We spent a couple of hours bringing back lines, coiling them and stowing them below deck, and gazing around us in awe. We made it!! Messages and calls to friends and family, hard earned lie downs, and plenty to time staring down into the turquoise sea - at last, we can see the bottom! (Even though is it 7 metres down). We have been visited a couple of times by a large turtle, and shared a celebratory lunch of the very good champagne that IJ brought on board just before we left Lanzarote, and the cheese gifted to us by JJ - both delicious. Gill, IJ and I all jumped overboard and swam around the boat in the warm water, checking the anchor chain and looking for bumps and scrapes. The bump that IJ heard a couple of weeks ago seems to have left a small dent in the bow - wonder what it was?
Now JnG are having an afternoon nap, while IJ calls home from the bow. The dinghy has been launched and is ready to carry us ashore for a precious reunion with dry land and sundowners in an hour or so.
For now, we are all taking a little while for it to sink in. The boat is steady. Land is a mere couple of hundred meters away. We can relax at last.
Thank you so much to everybody who has followed us on our journey, prayed for our safe passage, wished us fair winds and left comments on the blogs. We never felt alone, and were buoyed by our daily emails from Jack, Emma and Jenny, containing messages from you all. Looking forward to catching up with everyone in due course.
With much love,
M, IJ, J and G
Use https://www.noforeignland.com/boat/4717902794063872 with SHOW JOURNEY to track our progress.
----------
Sent via SailMail, http://www.sailmail.com
Date: 5-Mar-2020
Location: At anchor in St Anne's, Martinique!
Total to Date: 2948nm (0nm to go)
Final 22 Hour Run: 118nm
Wednesday 4th March, 18:52
The last sunset of the passage (unless something goes very wrong). This afternoon, I played my desert island discs through John D's bluetooth speaker and explained my choices, which was far more emotional than I'd been expecting. (If you've joined this blog since we set off from Lanzarote, scroll back a month to see what my discs were and why I chose them). I only listened to them a few times on the passage, but they made me laugh, smile, tap my fingers and toes and weep on different occasions. I decided that the disc I would save from the waves was my brothers Alec and Tim with Alec's Instructions for When Feeling Crap, for his wisdom and for all the memories that hearing them play and sing brings.
When the Desert Island Discs had finished, I spotted a vessel on the AIS - a Martinique fishing boat, and our first sign of the Caribbean.
The breeze is still very warm. We have shared our highlights and lowlights from the voyage, and our feelings regarding arrival. I am feeling EXCITED. This is way better than Christmas. We still don't know when we will first see land, but we do know that it will be some time during the night, and that come morning, Martinique should be visible. Irish John says that he will row ashore, get on his hands and knees and kiss the sand, and I have to say I agree with him.
19:44
Crackle, crackle... the echo of a voice. What's that...? The radio! The first noises from the outside world we have heard for three weeks. Gill and John laughed at me as I scrambled for the radio and picked it up to listen to. There was only really static, but I held it to my ear as if it were music. There is life out there, and it's no longer so far away!
20:00
I have taken myself down to bed, even though I feel far too excited to sleep. I joked with Gill that I might leave one of the socks I stowed away as I prepared for landfall this afternoon at the end of my bed and see if there is one of the last 3 oranges in it come morning. More likely a shrivelled aubergine, or bit of ginger fallen from the net above my head.
My phone is no longer on airplane mode so I will know when we reach mobile signal - but do I want to know or would I rather not be distracted while we arrive, and only turn it on once we are there? I am so excited to be able to talk to the people I have missed so much, but have relished the lack of distraction and intrusion that the modern world pushes in.
Sleep, Mariel, sleep.
23:28 - nightwatch
The final nightwatch! Despite the excitement, I must have fallen asleep at some point because I was woken abruptly by my alarm at 22:40, thinking I might have overslept. It took a few bleary eyed moments to remember how close to land we were and wonder if there was any sign of it yet.
I lay there a few minutes, allowing myself to wake up slowly, before pulling on my shorts and tshirt and heading up into the cockpit. My handover from Irish John began a little differently to usual, with an update on our two new passengers - still present. Soon after 8pm, when IJ had stuck Bon Jovi in his ears and assumed his nightly starfish position (apparently to brace himself, although Gill and I suspect he might just be making the most of the space that we don't have), JD had had a wash and was just getting into bed, and I had just closed my eyes, there came shrieks and flashing lights from the cockpit. IJ came stumbling out from the forepeak. Unable to distinguish any of Gill's words, he thought perhaps there had been a gas explosion or something, but lying just below the open hatch, I could hear Gill shout "bird! bird!" and see it's flapping wings above me.
In various stages of undress, the two John's and I stuck our heads into the cockpit to look at the rather dishevelled-looking brown bird perched at the top of the steps - hello! what are you doing here?!
Photos were taken, and having determined that it wasn't about to fly away again, clothes were put on and the bird book brought out. My best guess is a Brown Noddy, although it is a little hard to tell in the darkness. One of its webbed feet seems deformed, curled up and only half the size of the other.
IJ picked it up and put it on the cushion behind the helm, where it rocked back and forth with the motion of the boat. It reminded me of a tired child who refuses to admit it or go to bed, who sways back and forth in their chair before faceplanting into their dinner bowl. Excitement over, I returned to bed for attempt 2 at sleeping. With less than half an hour before he took over watch, IJ stayed up in the cockpit with Gill.
Minutes later, I was disturbed by more calls of "look at that bird!" and "is it coming in to land?!" I stuck my head up on deck again - sure enough, a second bird has come in to land, this time on the life buoy aft of the port solar panel, and is rocking in time with our buddy behind the helm.
We watch for a while, wondering if they'll go to meet each other and why on earth they are here, but neither seem to move. I see another bird fly past and we have visions of arriving in Martinique a menagerie Dr Doolittle would be proud of, but this one keeps flying and I returned to bed - third time lucky, and I fell asleep.
And they are both still here, in the same positions. IJ reports that the bird at the helm has preened itself and stretched its wings for a couple of flaps and that he has mopped up a couple of white poos running down the cushion. I hear a quiet 'peewee' - he says they have chirped to each other a couple of times.
The rest of the handover continues as normal - 10-15 knots of wind from the East, down from 15-20. Running at around 5 knots, course 280 degrees. We are aiming for 264 and he gives Paul a tug to port to correct us. No further ships to report, nor voices on the radio.
No sign yet of the loom of Martinique or any flashes from the lighthouses, but we are still almost 50nm away.
I settle in to the nightwatch seat as IJ descends the steps. Gill gets up to plot our position again (this time on the chart of Martinique and Guadeloupe, rather than the chart covering the whole of the north atlantic), and IJ remarks that she is too excited to sleep. I call down that Santa won't come if she doesn't close her eyes.
The breeze is warm and I am still just in shorts and a tshirt. The thermometer read 30C at lunchtime.
I scan the horizon for lights - my eyes have been telling me there are specks on the horizon for a few nights now. The moon is reflecting off the sea in the west, exactly where we are heading and where we expect the first signs of Martinique to appear from, making it even harder to see. Orion shows faintly ahead of us, but the waxing gibbous (half moon) is too bright for most other stars to show. We have just passed 2900nm travelled since La Palma. We are at 14 degrees 30 North and 60 degrees 10 West - both the right degrees of Lat and Long for our destination. 43.6 nm to go. ETA 08.07. Gill is up plotting again. Our birds are still swaying. Back to scanning the horizon for me.
00:33
A flashing light, but this one is in the sky, passing through Orion's legs - an airplane. From up there, they'd be able to see our tiny tricolour bobbing about in the sea, and the lights of Martinique in the same view.
This hasn't always been an easy journey, but I'm much happier to be arriving by sail than by plane. 2903 miles down, 40.4 to go.
00:45
The faint glow behind me tells me that JD has just put the light on in the aft cabin and is getting ready to get up and relieve me of my watch. Still no sign of a loom or any lighthouses, or indeed any ships or other sailing vessels.
JD thought we'd see the first sailboat at 120nm, Gill 100nm. It's now between Irish John and me at 30 and 20 nm respectively.
The two birds are still rocking gently behind me with their heads tucked beneath their wings. Almost time for me to return to my bunk and let the ocean rock me to sleep for the last time.
04:00
LAND AHOY!! Gill just called from the cockpit and I blearily pulled on my tshirt and stumbled up. G, J and J had all called a false alarm half an hour previously (it turned out to be a ship, not the lighthouse they had thought), which I hadn't got up for, but this time it was just me who rose.
"What can you see, Gill?"
"I can see Martinique!"
I look out over the side - maybe a faint glow on the horizon. Gill put the binoculars into my hands - "Lights! Look!"
I raise them to my eyes, and sure enough, hundreds of lights glittering on the horizon. Land, at last. Gill hugs me. We have made it nearly 3000nm across an ocean and can see the small piece of land we have been aiming for all the way.
I look around. The bird is still behind the helm, and Gill says a third has landed on the starboard solar panel (where else?!) Still half asleep, I have come back down to my bunk for another precious couple of hours before dawn. 24 nm to go.
0708 (or 0608, Martinique time)
The sky is lightening, and Martinique is clearly visible, only a few miles away to starboard. We have counted the flashes of the lighthouse (4 every 15 seconds) and are heading south of it, around the corner into the anchorage. I was roused from my dosing at 5am by a 'ping', followed a few seconds later by a rapid burst 'pingpingpingping' from Irish John's phone up in the cockpit as we re-entered the realm of modern technology. My phone took another hour and a half to show much or be able to send any messages home. There was little sleep to be had after land was sighted, and now we are all wide awake in the cockpit, mugs of tea in hand.
13:34 - at anchor in St Anne's
We have arrived. Other than an engine that wouldn't start the first few times, we had a very smooth and uneventful arrival into the anchorage. Anchor down at 08:30, 2 hours and 7 minutes earlier than the time predicted by JD 3 weeks ago. He was awarded a very well deserved bar of (his own) Green and Black's chocolate as a prize. We spent a couple of hours bringing back lines, coiling them and stowing them below deck, and gazing around us in awe. We made it!! Messages and calls to friends and family, hard earned lie downs, and plenty to time staring down into the turquoise sea - at last, we can see the bottom! (Even though is it 7 metres down). We have been visited a couple of times by a large turtle, and shared a celebratory lunch of the very good champagne that IJ brought on board just before we left Lanzarote, and the cheese gifted to us by JJ - both delicious. Gill, IJ and I all jumped overboard and swam around the boat in the warm water, checking the anchor chain and looking for bumps and scrapes. The bump that IJ heard a couple of weeks ago seems to have left a small dent in the bow - wonder what it was?
Now JnG are having an afternoon nap, while IJ calls home from the bow. The dinghy has been launched and is ready to carry us ashore for a precious reunion with dry land and sundowners in an hour or so.
For now, we are all taking a little while for it to sink in. The boat is steady. Land is a mere couple of hundred meters away. We can relax at last.
Thank you so much to everybody who has followed us on our journey, prayed for our safe passage, wished us fair winds and left comments on the blogs. We never felt alone, and were buoyed by our daily emails from Jack, Emma and Jenny, containing messages from you all. Looking forward to catching up with everyone in due course.
With much love,
M, IJ, J and G
Use https://www.noforeignland.com/boat/4717902794063872 with SHOW JOURNEY to track our progress.
----------
Sent via SailMail, http://www.sailmail.com
Wednesday, 4 March 2020
Atlantic Crossing - Day 23
Blogger: Mariel and John
Date: 4-Mar-2020
Location: Closing on Martinique - it's now REALLY close!
Total to Date: 2848nm (96nm to go)
24 Hour Run: 132nm
PART 1 - Mariel, 03.38am
Is this my last 3-5am nightwatch?? When I came on, there were less than 160nm to go, we are still making 5-6 knots in the right direction (at last!) and it said 1 day 11 hours til arrival - that would be 2pm Thursday! I have since done multiple calculations in my head (it's catching) - if we were doing 4 knots, 5 knots, 6 knots,if we were blown off course etc etc, but Thursday still looks very promising - hooray!
So now I am looking out at the stars with a different perspective. This could be my last nightwatch with this many stars. Tomorrow I will be doing 11pm-1am and the moon will still be up, lighting the horizon as I scan for ships (still none to be seen), but masking all but the brightest stars.
I just saw a shooting star so bright that it left a trail across the sky. And another! A good sign, and my spirits are high.
PART 2 - John D, 14.32pm
So, here we are, probably the last post before we drop anchor. The final countdown, the last day of peace and tranquility. Current predictions are for arrival in St Anne's, Martinique sometime tomorrow. Three weeks ago we each guessed when we would arrive. Gill and I both said tomorrow - me at 10.37, Gilly at 16.21. And we still have to factor in our final hour change. The winner will be the proud owner of a packet of haribos. Unfortunately they contain sugar so I won't be eating them and Gill doesn't like them.
Today has been much like yesterday. Good solid winds in the right direction, and an ETA growing ever closer, from yesterday's Friday morning, to last night's Thursday night, and now possibly even Thursday dawn - might we need to actually slow down to arrive in daylight?! Our daily mileages have returned to the 130s and several watches pass between pulling the course changing strings on Paul the Aries wind steering machine, voted for the second consecutive crossing the most useful item on the boat. Thoughts are turning to the general tidy up below, what can we do before we arrive, where will we be going for my joint arrival/birthday meal and of course who will be going where, when, once we do arrive?
More bird life today. The gannety thing we saw during our last crossing has been identified by Mariel as a masked booby - yesterday's possible sighting was confirmed when another two flew around us this morning. Also a probable brown booby and a possible red footed booby (could have been a juvenile other booby though). IJ spotted another turtle drifting past though this time it was only a small one. This led to a discussion on how LITTLE wildlife we have actually seen. No close whale encounters, very few dolphins and not a lot of birds. Maybe it's chance but I'm pretty sure we saw more creatures during the 2015 crossing. Or perhaps it's to do with the fact that we had an extra seven days to spot things then!
Our (possibly) last lunch today consisted of yesterday's freshly baked bread, cheese (still 9 packs in the fridge...!) and a fresh salad of cabbage, carrots (holding up remarkably well), avocados ('ripened' in IJ's greenhouse in the cockpit, although turns out they were actually cooking), orange (only 3 left from the 80 we left La Palma with) and Gill's carefully sprouted mung beans. We wondered how many boats arriving in the Caribbean are still eating fresh vegetables and not fighting over the last tin of baked beans. A very well done to Gill for the excellent provisioning.
That's about it then. The last daily travel update. I'm afraid you'll have to find something else to fill your breakfast/dinner/evening with. Thanks for all your messages over the past three weeks.
M, IJ, J and G
Use https://www.noforeignland.com/boat/4717902794063872 with SHOW JOURNEY to track our progress.
----------
Sent via SailMail, http://www.sailmail.com
Date: 4-Mar-2020
Location: Closing on Martinique - it's now REALLY close!
Total to Date: 2848nm (96nm to go)
24 Hour Run: 132nm
PART 1 - Mariel, 03.38am
Is this my last 3-5am nightwatch?? When I came on, there were less than 160nm to go, we are still making 5-6 knots in the right direction (at last!) and it said 1 day 11 hours til arrival - that would be 2pm Thursday! I have since done multiple calculations in my head (it's catching) - if we were doing 4 knots, 5 knots, 6 knots,if we were blown off course etc etc, but Thursday still looks very promising - hooray!
So now I am looking out at the stars with a different perspective. This could be my last nightwatch with this many stars. Tomorrow I will be doing 11pm-1am and the moon will still be up, lighting the horizon as I scan for ships (still none to be seen), but masking all but the brightest stars.
I just saw a shooting star so bright that it left a trail across the sky. And another! A good sign, and my spirits are high.
PART 2 - John D, 14.32pm
So, here we are, probably the last post before we drop anchor. The final countdown, the last day of peace and tranquility. Current predictions are for arrival in St Anne's, Martinique sometime tomorrow. Three weeks ago we each guessed when we would arrive. Gill and I both said tomorrow - me at 10.37, Gilly at 16.21. And we still have to factor in our final hour change. The winner will be the proud owner of a packet of haribos. Unfortunately they contain sugar so I won't be eating them and Gill doesn't like them.
Today has been much like yesterday. Good solid winds in the right direction, and an ETA growing ever closer, from yesterday's Friday morning, to last night's Thursday night, and now possibly even Thursday dawn - might we need to actually slow down to arrive in daylight?! Our daily mileages have returned to the 130s and several watches pass between pulling the course changing strings on Paul the Aries wind steering machine, voted for the second consecutive crossing the most useful item on the boat. Thoughts are turning to the general tidy up below, what can we do before we arrive, where will we be going for my joint arrival/birthday meal and of course who will be going where, when, once we do arrive?
More bird life today. The gannety thing we saw during our last crossing has been identified by Mariel as a masked booby - yesterday's possible sighting was confirmed when another two flew around us this morning. Also a probable brown booby and a possible red footed booby (could have been a juvenile other booby though). IJ spotted another turtle drifting past though this time it was only a small one. This led to a discussion on how LITTLE wildlife we have actually seen. No close whale encounters, very few dolphins and not a lot of birds. Maybe it's chance but I'm pretty sure we saw more creatures during the 2015 crossing. Or perhaps it's to do with the fact that we had an extra seven days to spot things then!
Our (possibly) last lunch today consisted of yesterday's freshly baked bread, cheese (still 9 packs in the fridge...!) and a fresh salad of cabbage, carrots (holding up remarkably well), avocados ('ripened' in IJ's greenhouse in the cockpit, although turns out they were actually cooking), orange (only 3 left from the 80 we left La Palma with) and Gill's carefully sprouted mung beans. We wondered how many boats arriving in the Caribbean are still eating fresh vegetables and not fighting over the last tin of baked beans. A very well done to Gill for the excellent provisioning.
That's about it then. The last daily travel update. I'm afraid you'll have to find something else to fill your breakfast/dinner/evening with. Thanks for all your messages over the past three weeks.
M, IJ, J and G
Use https://www.noforeignland.com/boat/4717902794063872 with SHOW JOURNEY to track our progress.
----------
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Tuesday, 3 March 2020
Atlantic Crossing - Day 22
Blogger: John
Date: 3-Mar-2020
Location: Closing on Martinique
Total to Date: 2729nm (212nm to go)
25 Hour Run: 116nm
We gybed in the night because our course became erratic, the motion was uncomfortable and everything was banging and crashing around. And what a difference. Since then we have creamed along at around 6 knots all day on an easy port tack. We all agree today has been the best sailing day so far. A great relief after two or three days of hard work battling for every mile won. The sky is blue now, the squalls have died out at least for the time being and we've even done a team Daily Telegraph cryptic crossword (1 wrong). Mariel got two cryptic clues correct and she says her granny will be very proud of her! We did have another few rainy squalls though in the night with winds of up to 34 knots - another wet knicker day for the girls!
Creature wise it's been another good day. A turtle from IJ, a possible booby from Mariel, another small petrel like bird, lots of flying fish and a brief visit from a large pod of those very small dolphins.
The mahi-mahi meal last night well lived up to expectations when we somehow managed to eat almost half of yesterday's catch. The rest of the half went into today's lunchtime salad (with mung beans etc). Tonight the vote is for fish soup rather than tray bake which sounds absolutely scrummy. Mariel has taught me how to bake her spelt bread today so the last two loaves are on the cooker cooling down. There's still a bit of the last packet of butter left too so it's feast time tonight.
Psychologically we're at that odd stage where we all want to get to the end but are not sure that we want it all to end. By tomorrow morning we will have less than 200 miles to go and we'll work out if we get to St Anne's on Thursday evening or Friday morning (or even a night arrival as we know the anchorage fairly well). We shall see.
M, IJ, J and G
Use https://www.noforeignland.com/boat/4717902794063872 with SHOW JOURNEY to track our progress.
----------
Sent via SailMail, http://www.sailmail.com
Date: 3-Mar-2020
Location: Closing on Martinique
Total to Date: 2729nm (212nm to go)
25 Hour Run: 116nm
We gybed in the night because our course became erratic, the motion was uncomfortable and everything was banging and crashing around. And what a difference. Since then we have creamed along at around 6 knots all day on an easy port tack. We all agree today has been the best sailing day so far. A great relief after two or three days of hard work battling for every mile won. The sky is blue now, the squalls have died out at least for the time being and we've even done a team Daily Telegraph cryptic crossword (1 wrong). Mariel got two cryptic clues correct and she says her granny will be very proud of her! We did have another few rainy squalls though in the night with winds of up to 34 knots - another wet knicker day for the girls!
Creature wise it's been another good day. A turtle from IJ, a possible booby from Mariel, another small petrel like bird, lots of flying fish and a brief visit from a large pod of those very small dolphins.
The mahi-mahi meal last night well lived up to expectations when we somehow managed to eat almost half of yesterday's catch. The rest of the half went into today's lunchtime salad (with mung beans etc). Tonight the vote is for fish soup rather than tray bake which sounds absolutely scrummy. Mariel has taught me how to bake her spelt bread today so the last two loaves are on the cooker cooling down. There's still a bit of the last packet of butter left too so it's feast time tonight.
Psychologically we're at that odd stage where we all want to get to the end but are not sure that we want it all to end. By tomorrow morning we will have less than 200 miles to go and we'll work out if we get to St Anne's on Thursday evening or Friday morning (or even a night arrival as we know the anchorage fairly well). We shall see.
M, IJ, J and G
Use https://www.noforeignland.com/boat/4717902794063872 with SHOW JOURNEY to track our progress.
----------
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Monday, 2 March 2020
Atlantic Crossing - Day 21
Blogger: John and Mariel
Date: 2-Mar-2020
Location: Approaching Martinique from the East
Total to Date: 2600nm (332nm to go)
25 Hour Run: 110nm
Two contrasting nightwatch reflections for you today, plus some excitement from this morning.
PART 1 Mariel, 03.32am, nightwatch
I'm starting to find this hard in different ways. The constant queasiness, the change in taste and the hypersensitivity to smell have all mostly passed. But now we are all in countdown mode and I am struggling with the ever-moving target.
I think I'm ready for our ocean passage to be over now. Ready to see something other than blue sea. Ready to be able to stretch my legs (without bracing them on the other side of the cockpit), leave the boat, have a swim, a proper wash, be alone (even if just for a few precious moments), meet new people, and talk to the people I love.
Our days are filled with calculations; if we continue at this speed in this direction, we'll arrive in 3, 4, 5, 15 days... The tablet screen is swiped to the side to show the miles to go, sometimes every mile we travel. We mark significant points as we aim for and pass them - now down to every 100 nm. Just before midnight, we crept below 400 nm left to go.
I am not used to counting down to things or wishing time away. Over the past year in particular, I've been conscious about making the most of the present rather than wishing it away in favour of a potentially brighter future. It jars with me, this constant checking of a variable time and distance remaining. I want to be able to make the most of the few days we have remaining in this small blue bubble, but I'm torn with wanting to reach the end, and distracted by the countdown.
The biggest problem with the countdown is that it is changeable. This isn't like counting down to Christmas with a chocolate advent calendar, knowing that Santa will come on the night of the 24th, and that there'll be food and presents galore on the 25th. Right now, we are doing 5-6 knots in exactly the right direction, 257 degrees, just south of west. With less than 400 nm to go from here in a straight line, that makes our ETA 3 days and 4 hours, according to the app we use.
But earlier this evening, when a passing squall had sucked all the wind from the air, we could barely make 3 knots, and we were at least 30 degrees off course. Heading in the wrong direction at a half the speed made our ETA over a week away.
We are at the mercy of the wind and the waves. We think back to earlier stages of our passage, with 3-4m waves to surf down at over 8 knots, and days of up to 150nm, with nostalgia and longing.
Despite our forecast of a steady 10-15 knots of wind from the east, in reality it is variable, from 5 knots to gusts of up to 25, and there's no knowing when we'll get there, no matter how many calculations we do.
We'll get there when we get there.
PART 2 - John, 5-7am watch
Life is good this morning. Early 5am watch, the sea is flat and we have 20 knots of true wind which is just perfect. The air is balmy and we are powering along at around 6 easy knots. The stars are at their best with only a few small, non-threatening clouds. Leonard Cohen plays supporting my reflective mood and as usual serves to cheer me up because I never listen to the words only to the pretty tunes!
It's at times like this I am reminded of the famous Chinese verse:
He knows not where he's going
For the ocean will decide
It's not the destination
It's the glory of the ride.
[Zen Dog, Gill's Birthday card, 200?]
Just a few days left now and our tight little group will disperse and the outside world will come crowding back in. But for now we continue to exist on our little blue disk, swished along on our Atlantic carpet wishing both that this could continue for ever and yet eager to finish and finally drop anchor too. Great memories shared with a great crew. Who would have thought I would be here three years ago. Lucky, or what?
A few comments to remember our time by...
"This is perfect. If we keep this up we'll be in Martinique by (choose any date)." [Gill]
"Pan pan, pan pan, pan pan. All ships, all ships, all ships." [The Canarian sing along weather man]
"On port tack I have to move to the other side on my berth." [IJ] "You're lucky, my bed is so small it doesn't have sides." [Mariel]
"I've got a smudge stick in my bag. Let's cleanse the boat." [Mariel]
"Why don't we use the lure that actually looks like a fish today?" [IJ] - that's the one that caught the fish!!
"This meal is absolutely delicious. Do you miss having meat to eat?" [J] "YES" [IJ]
"I'm good." [IJ]
"Has anyone sent the InReach satnav position this morning?" [Anyone]
"I might be thinking of putting another reef in." [IJ]
"I'm just starting to feel the rain trickling down between my buttocks!" [Gill]
"Perhaps you could cook us a mung bean omelette, John." {Mariel]
In other news I learned yesterday how to relieve a stallion, how to inseminate a mare and how to prepare for a three day event!!
PART 3 - John
It's afternoon now. A jobs day. Water reorganised, fuel transferred to the correct tanks. Sounds simple but it's taken the best part of the day. Remember EVERYTHING is moving. All the time. Gilly's worked really hard and we've managed all the jobs whilst the watch keepers kept the miles ticking on nicely averaging over 5 knots for the past 24 hours - right through the night and most of the day.
Big news though is....ANOTHER FISH! This time a stunning 10kg bull mahi mahi. 45 minutes to bring it to the gaff, gorgeous blues and greens sparkling as he threw himself into the air. Sad to say his female friends swam with him to say goodbye so it was with mixed emotions we thanked Neptune for his gift. Fish and spuds tonight and fish soup tomorrow. A veritable feast in store. Same lure as last time. Wait til you see the pictures, this guy's the business.
M, IJ, J and G
Use https://www.noforeignland.com/boat/4717902794063872 with SHOW JOURNEY to track our progress.
----------
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Date: 2-Mar-2020
Location: Approaching Martinique from the East
Total to Date: 2600nm (332nm to go)
25 Hour Run: 110nm
Two contrasting nightwatch reflections for you today, plus some excitement from this morning.
PART 1 Mariel, 03.32am, nightwatch
I'm starting to find this hard in different ways. The constant queasiness, the change in taste and the hypersensitivity to smell have all mostly passed. But now we are all in countdown mode and I am struggling with the ever-moving target.
I think I'm ready for our ocean passage to be over now. Ready to see something other than blue sea. Ready to be able to stretch my legs (without bracing them on the other side of the cockpit), leave the boat, have a swim, a proper wash, be alone (even if just for a few precious moments), meet new people, and talk to the people I love.
Our days are filled with calculations; if we continue at this speed in this direction, we'll arrive in 3, 4, 5, 15 days... The tablet screen is swiped to the side to show the miles to go, sometimes every mile we travel. We mark significant points as we aim for and pass them - now down to every 100 nm. Just before midnight, we crept below 400 nm left to go.
I am not used to counting down to things or wishing time away. Over the past year in particular, I've been conscious about making the most of the present rather than wishing it away in favour of a potentially brighter future. It jars with me, this constant checking of a variable time and distance remaining. I want to be able to make the most of the few days we have remaining in this small blue bubble, but I'm torn with wanting to reach the end, and distracted by the countdown.
The biggest problem with the countdown is that it is changeable. This isn't like counting down to Christmas with a chocolate advent calendar, knowing that Santa will come on the night of the 24th, and that there'll be food and presents galore on the 25th. Right now, we are doing 5-6 knots in exactly the right direction, 257 degrees, just south of west. With less than 400 nm to go from here in a straight line, that makes our ETA 3 days and 4 hours, according to the app we use.
But earlier this evening, when a passing squall had sucked all the wind from the air, we could barely make 3 knots, and we were at least 30 degrees off course. Heading in the wrong direction at a half the speed made our ETA over a week away.
We are at the mercy of the wind and the waves. We think back to earlier stages of our passage, with 3-4m waves to surf down at over 8 knots, and days of up to 150nm, with nostalgia and longing.
Despite our forecast of a steady 10-15 knots of wind from the east, in reality it is variable, from 5 knots to gusts of up to 25, and there's no knowing when we'll get there, no matter how many calculations we do.
We'll get there when we get there.
PART 2 - John, 5-7am watch
Life is good this morning. Early 5am watch, the sea is flat and we have 20 knots of true wind which is just perfect. The air is balmy and we are powering along at around 6 easy knots. The stars are at their best with only a few small, non-threatening clouds. Leonard Cohen plays supporting my reflective mood and as usual serves to cheer me up because I never listen to the words only to the pretty tunes!
It's at times like this I am reminded of the famous Chinese verse:
He knows not where he's going
For the ocean will decide
It's not the destination
It's the glory of the ride.
[Zen Dog, Gill's Birthday card, 200?]
Just a few days left now and our tight little group will disperse and the outside world will come crowding back in. But for now we continue to exist on our little blue disk, swished along on our Atlantic carpet wishing both that this could continue for ever and yet eager to finish and finally drop anchor too. Great memories shared with a great crew. Who would have thought I would be here three years ago. Lucky, or what?
A few comments to remember our time by...
"This is perfect. If we keep this up we'll be in Martinique by (choose any date)." [Gill]
"Pan pan, pan pan, pan pan. All ships, all ships, all ships." [The Canarian sing along weather man]
"On port tack I have to move to the other side on my berth." [IJ] "You're lucky, my bed is so small it doesn't have sides." [Mariel]
"I've got a smudge stick in my bag. Let's cleanse the boat." [Mariel]
"Why don't we use the lure that actually looks like a fish today?" [IJ] - that's the one that caught the fish!!
"This meal is absolutely delicious. Do you miss having meat to eat?" [J] "YES" [IJ]
"I'm good." [IJ]
"Has anyone sent the InReach satnav position this morning?" [Anyone]
"I might be thinking of putting another reef in." [IJ]
"I'm just starting to feel the rain trickling down between my buttocks!" [Gill]
"Perhaps you could cook us a mung bean omelette, John." {Mariel]
In other news I learned yesterday how to relieve a stallion, how to inseminate a mare and how to prepare for a three day event!!
PART 3 - John
It's afternoon now. A jobs day. Water reorganised, fuel transferred to the correct tanks. Sounds simple but it's taken the best part of the day. Remember EVERYTHING is moving. All the time. Gilly's worked really hard and we've managed all the jobs whilst the watch keepers kept the miles ticking on nicely averaging over 5 knots for the past 24 hours - right through the night and most of the day.
Big news though is....ANOTHER FISH! This time a stunning 10kg bull mahi mahi. 45 minutes to bring it to the gaff, gorgeous blues and greens sparkling as he threw himself into the air. Sad to say his female friends swam with him to say goodbye so it was with mixed emotions we thanked Neptune for his gift. Fish and spuds tonight and fish soup tomorrow. A veritable feast in store. Same lure as last time. Wait til you see the pictures, this guy's the business.
M, IJ, J and G
Use https://www.noforeignland.com/boat/4717902794063872 with SHOW JOURNEY to track our progress.
----------
Sent via SailMail, http://www.sailmail.com
Sunday, 1 March 2020
Atlantic Crossing - Day 20
Blogger: John
Date: 1-Mar-2020
Location: Back in dragonfly flying distance
Total to Date: 2494nm (430nm to go)
24 Hour Run: 113nm
A challenging 24 hour period. 25 hours actually as we choose 12.00-13.00 to be repeated as we put our clocks back for the third time during the crossing. Only one more left and we'll do that as we approach Martinique.
We've had a bit of everything except for those strong consistent winds from earlier in the trip. Constant winds for much of the night - 4.5-5.0 knots interspersed by a couple of squalls pushing 30 knots. We always have a reef in at night so no big deal. But if you are 'sleeping' below you can feel her kick her heels up and start to push on up over 7 knots. Today it's been more of the same but with stronger squalls some bringing brief rain showers followed by little or no wind. It's hot. It's very humid. We've even had the engine on for a couple of hours total to push us through the calms and to protect the sail from the constant slatting back and forth.
Another visitor last night in the form of a full size flying fish who came flapping on board. This one failed to relaunch so he sits at present on the end of the (undisturbed) fishing line. Last night the line had to be retrieved as two frigate birds were becoming a bit too interested in it.
As we close in on land a lone dragonfly was blown past earlier this morning.
And last night on my (JD) watch there was more action as first the wind suddenly veered through 30 degrees and strengthened considerably making the sails start their horrid whap whap routine. Just as we were sorting that out I spotted a ship on AIS 13 miles away and closing. We watched him down the starboard side and then immediately there's another big commercial vessel coming within a mile of us. And all that after we hadn't seen a ship since leaving the Cape Verdes.
We've had an annnoying squeak from the spinnaker pole alongside the mast for most of the trip but that's now been remedied by strapping it along the deck. The pole for the parasailor together with all its lines are still run ready for deployment but the squally conditions have precluded its use today.
We're counting down the miles now by the hundred with the aim to lose one hundred at least every 24 hours. Only 430 left to go. Wednesday? Thursday? Friday? The bets are on.
M, IJ, J and G
Use https://www.noforeignland.com/boat/4717902794063872 with SHOW JOURNEY to track our progress.
----------
Sent via SailMail, http://www.sailmail.com
Date: 1-Mar-2020
Location: Back in dragonfly flying distance
Total to Date: 2494nm (430nm to go)
24 Hour Run: 113nm
A challenging 24 hour period. 25 hours actually as we choose 12.00-13.00 to be repeated as we put our clocks back for the third time during the crossing. Only one more left and we'll do that as we approach Martinique.
We've had a bit of everything except for those strong consistent winds from earlier in the trip. Constant winds for much of the night - 4.5-5.0 knots interspersed by a couple of squalls pushing 30 knots. We always have a reef in at night so no big deal. But if you are 'sleeping' below you can feel her kick her heels up and start to push on up over 7 knots. Today it's been more of the same but with stronger squalls some bringing brief rain showers followed by little or no wind. It's hot. It's very humid. We've even had the engine on for a couple of hours total to push us through the calms and to protect the sail from the constant slatting back and forth.
Another visitor last night in the form of a full size flying fish who came flapping on board. This one failed to relaunch so he sits at present on the end of the (undisturbed) fishing line. Last night the line had to be retrieved as two frigate birds were becoming a bit too interested in it.
As we close in on land a lone dragonfly was blown past earlier this morning.
And last night on my (JD) watch there was more action as first the wind suddenly veered through 30 degrees and strengthened considerably making the sails start their horrid whap whap routine. Just as we were sorting that out I spotted a ship on AIS 13 miles away and closing. We watched him down the starboard side and then immediately there's another big commercial vessel coming within a mile of us. And all that after we hadn't seen a ship since leaving the Cape Verdes.
We've had an annnoying squeak from the spinnaker pole alongside the mast for most of the trip but that's now been remedied by strapping it along the deck. The pole for the parasailor together with all its lines are still run ready for deployment but the squally conditions have precluded its use today.
We're counting down the miles now by the hundred with the aim to lose one hundred at least every 24 hours. Only 430 left to go. Wednesday? Thursday? Friday? The bets are on.
M, IJ, J and G
Use https://www.noforeignland.com/boat/4717902794063872 with SHOW JOURNEY to track our progress.
----------
Sent via SailMail, http://www.sailmail.com
Saturday, 29 February 2020
Atlantic Crossing - Day 19 - Whale!
Blogger: John and Mariel
Date: 29-Feb-2020
Location: Creeping ever closer
Total to Date: 2378nm (539nm to go)
24 Hour Run: 116nm
Despite a steady, uneventful night(though very warm and with a fair amount of rock'n'rollin'), the wind has again been fickle and the end looks as far away today as it did yesterday.
However....we did see a whale!! Yesterday evening, Irish John suddenly began staring at a spot around a mile off our port beam. Then there it was "Whale, whale!". Everyone crowded around watching as it began to blow every minute or so. At one stage it seemed to be getting closer and then it flung itself upwards, breeching and almost out of the water. Wow, amazing. Slowly it moved down our port side until eventually after 20 minutes or so we left it behind. It was too far away for a positive identification but it was pretty big. Best guess? Humpback. IJ won the prize for the first confirmed whale sighting - a bag of boiled sweets.
Buoyed up by our whale sighting, we had a lovely evening in the sunshine with stuffed roasted squash for supper, an introductory smudge stick ceremony with the smudge stick M made with herbs from the coastal forests of southern Spain, and a return to choir practice, with ever improving renditions of "Deep Blue Sea" and the Mingelay Boat Song.
It's been a pretty organism rich 24 hours actually. We've started seeing quite a bit of weed being carried by the current, blobs of orange streaming in long lines against the blue. Not enough to snag the patiently dragged fishing line but enough for us all to comment on it. Up to the last few days we had seen none. More of the beautiful white tropic birds too and the first sighting of a frigate bird far off land. And last night as I was contemplating the world on late night watch there was a sudden flapping on the aft deck. A large flying fish had joined me. I spent a few minutes deciding whether to let it flap itself out on the deck for fish bait or to pick it up and return it to the sea. It decided for me by flipping over the guard rail and back into the ocean.
After a noisy night, the highlight of the day was baked beans on toast on M's delicious brown bread for breakfast. Otherwise there really isn't much to report today. Frustrating with the end now tantalisingly close but with insufficient fuel to motor all of the rest of the way.
M, IJ, J and G
Use https://www.noforeignland.com/boat/4717902794063872 with SHOW JOURNEY to track our progress.
----------
Sent via SailMail, http://www.sailmail.com
Date: 29-Feb-2020
Location: Creeping ever closer
Total to Date: 2378nm (539nm to go)
24 Hour Run: 116nm
Despite a steady, uneventful night(though very warm and with a fair amount of rock'n'rollin'), the wind has again been fickle and the end looks as far away today as it did yesterday.
However....we did see a whale!! Yesterday evening, Irish John suddenly began staring at a spot around a mile off our port beam. Then there it was "Whale, whale!". Everyone crowded around watching as it began to blow every minute or so. At one stage it seemed to be getting closer and then it flung itself upwards, breeching and almost out of the water. Wow, amazing. Slowly it moved down our port side until eventually after 20 minutes or so we left it behind. It was too far away for a positive identification but it was pretty big. Best guess? Humpback. IJ won the prize for the first confirmed whale sighting - a bag of boiled sweets.
Buoyed up by our whale sighting, we had a lovely evening in the sunshine with stuffed roasted squash for supper, an introductory smudge stick ceremony with the smudge stick M made with herbs from the coastal forests of southern Spain, and a return to choir practice, with ever improving renditions of "Deep Blue Sea" and the Mingelay Boat Song.
It's been a pretty organism rich 24 hours actually. We've started seeing quite a bit of weed being carried by the current, blobs of orange streaming in long lines against the blue. Not enough to snag the patiently dragged fishing line but enough for us all to comment on it. Up to the last few days we had seen none. More of the beautiful white tropic birds too and the first sighting of a frigate bird far off land. And last night as I was contemplating the world on late night watch there was a sudden flapping on the aft deck. A large flying fish had joined me. I spent a few minutes deciding whether to let it flap itself out on the deck for fish bait or to pick it up and return it to the sea. It decided for me by flipping over the guard rail and back into the ocean.
After a noisy night, the highlight of the day was baked beans on toast on M's delicious brown bread for breakfast. Otherwise there really isn't much to report today. Frustrating with the end now tantalisingly close but with insufficient fuel to motor all of the rest of the way.
M, IJ, J and G
Use https://www.noforeignland.com/boat/4717902794063872 with SHOW JOURNEY to track our progress.
----------
Sent via SailMail, http://www.sailmail.com