Hallo Mudder Hallo Fadder
Bardeau returns across Atlantic
Robert Bard
Fri 30 Nov 2012 10:16
Well after 3 days of rain, squalls, mountainous seas, and the odd murdered
fish we have been convincing ourselves this is fun. At last 500 miles
underway we seem to have found the sun and donned the factor 50+ . The
height of yesterday, apart from the wanton killing by C.Dundee of a dorado,
was the opening by Claretta of the first of a series of presents given to
her by her parents. We all sat on deck with polite curiosity as she pulled
open the first mini-parcel. Jelly Babies !!!!! They lasted 30 seconds. We
await with keen interest the edibility of today's prezzie. Today is finally
dog day. We are prob the only sailing yacht on the Atlantic carrying 15
varieties of dog...all so far uneaten. It's like teasing a
thirsty man in the desert with water but taking it away at the last moment.
As I write, on deck, in 25 knots of following wind, surfing down some pretty
impressive waves, the motley's sleep below safe in the knowledge that the
illustrious skip will not fall asleep on watch. Today I will start the last
in the Fifty Shades of Grey series, before beginning work on writing my next
book looking at the Earls of Essex from then until now. Seems strange
surroundings to be doing it. Simone our near Hamble bound weather girl
updates us daily on how many places we have fallen back, and the weather to
expect for the next 24 hours....even down to...'why you heading 250 when
everyone else is 230 '? Answer: we are on autopilot ....seems it has a mind
of its own. David and I will trawl through the handbook today and find out
why it wants to go to Cuba, when we want to go to St Lucia. St Lucia has
good Chinese restaurants...Cuba doesn't. We will lobotomise it's computer
chip. Havn't seen another boat for two days now. Makes me wonder if we are
going the right way. I simply tell the motleys I have worked out a short cut
and we are so far ahead they can't expect to see anyone else. Dare not tell
them the autopilot has thrown a wobbly one
Till this evening...whenever this evening is...no-one sure what the realtime
is anymore !
El illustrious skipper
To:
Well after 3 days of rain, squalls, mountainous seas, and the odd murdered
fish we have been convincing ourselves this is fun. At last 500 miles
underway we seem to have found the sun and donned the factor 50+ . The
height of yesterday, apart from the wanton killing by C.Dundee of a dorado,
was the opening by Claretta of the first of a series of presents given to
her by her parents. We all sat on deck with polite curiosity as she pulled
open the first mini-parcel. Jelly Babies !!!!! They lasted 30 seconds. We
await with keen interest the edibility of today's prezzie. Today is finally
dog day. We are prob the only sailing yacht on the Atlantic carrying 15
varieties of dog...all so far uneaten. It'sy on our poo like teasing a
thirsty man in the desert with water but taking it away at the last moment.
As I write, on deck, in 25 knots of following wind, surfing down some pretty
impressive waves, the motley's sleep below safe in the knowledge that the
illustrious skip will not fall asleep on watch. Today I will start the last
in the Fifty Shades of Grey series, before beginning work on writing my next
book looking at the Earls of Essex from then until now. Seems strange
surroundings to be doing it. Simone our near Hamble bound weather girl
updates us daily on how many places we have fallen back, and the weather to
expect for the next 24 hours....even down to...'why you heading 250 when
everyone else is 230 '? Answer: we are on autopilot ....seems it has a mind
of its own. David and I will trawl through the handbook today and find out
why it wants to go to Cuba, when we want to go to St Lucia. St Lucia has
good Chinese restaurants...Cuba doesn't. We will lobotomise it's computer
chip. Havn't seen another boat for two days now. Makes me wonder if we are
going the right way. I simply tell the motleys I have worked out a short cut
and we are so far ahead they can't expect to see anyone else. Dare not tell
them the autopilot has thrown a wobbly one
Till this evening...whenever this evening is...no-one sure what the real
time
is anymore !
El illustrious skipper