Tuesday 11.12.07
Lines on the Voyage of Sailing Yacht
Astra
‘Twas on the twenty-fifth of November two
thousand and seven
That we cast off from Las Palmas at about
eleven.
As we slowly motored towards the
starting line,
The weather was already
considerably less than fine,
And when the starting gun was
heard to fire,
We realized we had committed
ourselves to something dire.
As we sailed off south during
that night,
The winds became more than
inconveniently light.
But gradually we sailed clear of
the island’s lee,
And made our way into the open
sea.
And now again the thought struck
everyone,
That an extremely long voyage had
barely begun.
To while away the days while
weather was fine,
We keenly cast our brand new
fishing line.
No sooner did the lure pass out
of sight,
Than we felt the first dorado’s
eager bite.
We little thought we could have
lost a limb,
When we marked the halfway point
with a short swim.
Next day the boat was circled by
a shark
Explaining why swimming is not
recommended by the ARC.
And when we reeled in two-thirds
of an Atlantic Bonito,
All further thoughts of a dip
were finito.
We thought that downwind sailing
was a thrill electric,
Until a gust destroyed our
asymmetric.
But our spinnaker fulfilled our
need for speed,
Until a squall did us a dirty
deed.
So now our progress became more
sedate,
Till once more overtaken by a
cruel Fate.
Stormclouds stretched far as eye
could see,
And horizontal rain dispelled any
remaining feelings of glee.
But at the worst moment of the
storm,
A hero appeared in mechanical
form:
Some say he has sailed upside
down round Cape Horn –
All we know is that without our
autopilot Alfie we would have been forlorn.
And so as we approach the finish
line,
Our thoughts turn to consumption
of declarable stocks of spirits and wine.
And as we wait for
St.
Lucia’s outline to appear,
Our voyage is set to end on
a note of seasonal cheer.
PH,
NR
