It was a leisurely departure, which was good as it gave us chance to make sure we had done everything we needed to do before our passage.

As soon as we were out of the shelter of the anchorage it became rather rocky rolly, just as well neither of us suffer from sea sickness as it would have been dreadful.

We knew it was going to be a hard slog until we’ turned the corner’ but it was worse than either of us imagined. We had set sail at noon and the winds were starting to build steadily as the afternoon wore on. By nightfall we were having gusts up to 47kts over the deck. Trying to sleep on your off watch was almost impossible, being rocked and rolled, then pitched and tossed, but in no particular order. I can only describe it as trying to sleep in a washing machine, or tumble drier with a reverse cycle!!! Consequently neither of us slept much and the night seemed to go on for ever.

We were sailing in the company of Long White Cloud as far as Providencia. So each morning and evening we would check in with each other over the VHF radio. They had sailed more than us that first day and night, whereas we had motor sailed more because Beaujolais is a big boat, weighing 15 tons and doesn’t sail close into the wind very well.

The next day was lovely, bright and sunny, but still windy and still in the wrong direction. Roger was chomping at the bit to sail and we kept trying to sail only to find we were doing a lot of tacking and not making much progress for our effort. Normally it wouldn’t be a big deal, but we had a deadline and the threat of bad weather as we got closer to Columbia, so once again, we resorted, much to Roger’s disappointment, to motor sailing.

That night we managed to sleep a little easier as the wind direction had changed slightly in our favour.

The next couple of days were much the same, and Roger was getting concerned about the amount of fuel we were using and whether we would be able to make it to Columbia in time under sail, if at all.

I said a silent prayer to Aeolus and Poseidon for favourable winds and seas. In fact I had a bit of a mantra when I started each night watch. It went something like ‘Aeolus god of the wind grant us favourable winds, Posiedon god of the seas bestow on us fair seas and God please don’t let there be any ships on my watch!’

 I really don’t like night watches, ships just creep up on you, especially as my Amp nazi husband doesn’t like to use the radar as it consumes so much power (But in fairness to Roger, he did put the radar on when I asked and pointed out that it was pointless having one if we weren’t going to use it.) So I would sit on tenter hooks for the entire 3 hours.

In fact the first 2 nights I got the fright of my life when all of a sudden, out of nowhere,  there was a huge orange spotlight dead ahead of us, the panic was only momentary as I soon realised it was the moon rising. But it still caught me out the following night!!

Roger had 3 occasions to hail a passing ship in order to get them to change course. I am just glad I didn’t.

By the 4^th day we were sailing and Beaujolais was taking a real battering.

In fact part of the reason we were now unable to sleep off watch was because of the Beaujolais Symphony Orchestra. Each wave crashing against the hull was our kettle drums, the halyard slapping against the shrouds were our cellos, the halyard slapping against the mast was the triangle pinging away. The creaks and squeaks were our string section, they really needed to use more rosin on their bows. The breaking waves were the high hats and so it went on. We had the full orchestra, but there was no Eine Kleine Nacht Musik for us, no lullaby to send us off the sleep. No, our orchestra never seemed to make it past the tuning up stage making it impossible to drift off, because just as you did the kettle drum would unleash a fury of bangs or the string section would strike up, it was horrible.

One day though, as I was lying on the day bed trying to catch an hour or more, I noticed a new instrument had joined the orchestra, it was the symbol with the soft brush drum stick making a sizzling, crackling noise. I tuned my hearing to locate it’s source, it was definitely electrical, something arcing, then I heard a ‘pop’ and called Roger down. After some investigation he ascertained that we had lost the stereo due to water ingress. That was the only time I was glad of the Beaujolais Symphony Orchestra, it could have been potentially dangerous had we not isolated it.

Poor Beaujolais was fairing as badly as we were, the lockers were getting wet everywhere. But she was a fighter and was clipping along at up to 7.4 knots.

So it was that we went for 3 days, flying along until, as on our passage from the States to Mexico, we had to slow her down to avoid a night landfall. Poor Beaujolais, it must be so frustrating for her, it takes her so long to get going and when she does we have to slow her down!

I would just like to add that we coped very well over the 7 days and indeed had no disagreements and are still talking to each other (for all of you doubting Thomas’s out there).