Rodeo Toilet

Thu 11 Dec 2008 11:42

Position 14:52.422N 053:09.039W

Wind E F6

Speed 6-7kts

1 reef in the main and poled out genoa

454 nautical miles to our waypoint north of St. Lucia



We have become slightly uncontinental in our hygiene. Baby wipes were not invented when I really needed them; instead I was always wiped down with a sponge before being stabbed with an oversized safety pin. I am making up for this now and have consumed enough baby wipes in my daily cleansing regime to bring me up to the age of three. Ursula managed a freshwater shower today as we passed through a heavy rain storm.


The table manners may have taken a bit of a battering too but I am sure we will all be rehabilitated by ARC control and possibly even compensated. The three weeks in our sea caravan is otherwise passing without a hitch and there is no sense of cabin fever.


The book club is also running smoothly, I find myself watching the progress of the other members intently as I reach the final chapters of whatever it is I am reading. I am spying, and trying to time my last page with the last page of the book I want next.


Here I sit on my rodeo toilet

It’s squeaking a bit so I oil it

It bucks up and down

And throws me around

But I’m trying my best not to soil it


While washing the dishes today I had a wave in the galley window which filled the sink for me. It saved me hand pumping all that sea water and I was very grateful. When I looked out I could see the French yacht Magesty just abeam of us, climbing the companionway steps I saw two others. Things were getting a bit congested. Just then our VHF crackled to life and it was Anthony from Pegasus who was passing us again. It is not clear how they keep getting behind us, they must know of some secret passage.

They have had very little wind apart from the heavy weather we both experienced in which they damaged one of their mast spreaders. It was good to hear from them again and Anthony kindly called us back later to advise on the weather situation ahead. The nasty looking squall we could see on the horizon was only a heavy rain shower.

Magesty on the other hand, headed for Martinique, came right up to us and we waved from a sitting position with no response, then standing up and then even standing on the seat. There were three of them in the cockpit but they just looked at us as if it was rush hour traffic.


Last night as dusk settled our wake was like an oil slick in the rough sea, calming the water behind us and it took a different colour to reflect from the dying light than the rest of the ocean. Wind picked up gusting thirty knots and I got up a couple of times during Ursulas watch as we were really being thrown around. On deck however, when you could see, hear and feel what was going on around us it seemed much less agitated and as Ursula was writing her diary under her red head lamp I left her and climbed uphill to my bunk, put my crash helmet back on and dozed off.


Boat speed is up to 8 knots,

nautical miles we’re gobbling lots

we’re trimming and looking

winching and cooking

And we take turns washing the pots