Back to Lagoa Verde 29032011 Tuesday

Pos 23:08.35S 44:19.34W

 

A sailing day. 0700 up and at ‘em Yves is already aboard looking for his memory stick which he thought

he’ed left aboard after last night festivities and photo copying sessions. We can’t it but are sure he took it

with him though did contain some of Thomas rather dubois shots of  his “Bums and Bikinis” girls and could possible have been censored by Katrine !

 

We start the engine and electronics and are away before “mon capitan” surfaces,  heading back to Ilha Grande

and bays enroute. We pick up a southeasterly and were of goosewinging at 7/8knots going like a train.

Lunch of tomatoes stuffed with tuna salad with fresh homemade Brioche (a parting gift from Katrine on Grey Pearl) followed by apple crumble and ice cream.

 

We hear from Fredrik, he’s back on his oil rig and its on a course in our general direction so we alter course

to intercept. As we near he radios us that he is on the Helideck, clutching the glasses we see him and as we

approach they sound their sirens.Its enormous, chugging along under its own power and belching diesel fumes as they are run equipment tests.

 

    

                                     SS Pantanal                                                            Fredrik on the Helipad (right)

 

We finally anchor back at Lagoa Verde just as it begins to rain, a swim then G & T’s and as the rain increases

its time to put up the awnings to protect the the cockpit from the storm.

 

    

                                      Nice rock                                                                         Desperate search for beer.

 

Back in communications again  its time to send the latestest Blog before a dinner of Spaghetti with a mix of things

various with a cheeky Chilian vintage. We are gradually driven inside as the rain become torrential, and so to bed.

 

Nice for some but having closed all the hatches I had omitted to close my porthole and have a soaking wet bunk.

Fortunately there are two in the cabin so I retreat to the alternate, belatedly battening down my hatch and falling asleep to the drumming of the downpour.

 

Bob the Blog.