Blog day x+1

Halcyon
Rob Withers
Sat 3 Dec 2011 18:35
Time passed, slowly.

Without water and having suffered damage to their rig, your intrepid
sailors struggle on towards st. Lucia at 3 knots. The whole crew
have blistered hands from two days incessant pumping of the water maker,
and all wish things had turned out differently. How life can turn on a
decision to fly a bigger sail or turn on the water pump without
checking all taps are off. There is no need for sympathy, this is a
self inflicted misery made only worse by the sufficiency of time
available to self analyse, chastise and regret.

Being on that boat would make Halcyon seem like the land of milk and
honey.

This morning we indulged in a wash, one each actually, with soap and
everything. Steve's clean and untrimmed beard makes him look more like
Santa with every passing day. Rob's clean and untrimmed beard is but
mere stubble with enough grey to give away what other pigmentation does
so well to hide. My clean and untrimmed beard has smears of
ginger undeserved for any past crime. James and Sarah don't
have beards - which is a relief.

The fauna we relished in the first few fays has dwindled to the
occasional flying fish, but flora has improved no-end, passing
semi-submerged sods of spongy coloured seaweed. We all hope that
there really is no end to this improvement as semi-submerged sods are
not that exciting.

Sarah's nighttime attention seeking (ref: the flying fish dropped catch)
has reared its ugly head again, this time in the form of sabotage.
Five minutes after handing over my watch and believing that well earned
sleep was due, she maliciously cut through the jib sheet where it had
been rubbing on the end of the pole we use to keep the sail in the
(hopefully) optimum position as we head down wind. The resultant bang
had the desired effect of drawing our "Russell Crow" like skipper from
his bed in Y-fronts and life jacket to make the required repairs.
Returning to my bunk, I shuddered.

In other news... we have slightly redecorated Halcyon. After all doing
a little laundry (yes, not just Sarah) clothes were hung to dry. Only
James pants remain adorning the outboard like a rubbish crown. From
the cockpit, when one has cause to look to stern to check Heidi is on
track, the freshly laundered gusset remains on prominent display.

We may have lost 10 bags of crisps, if so we have run out. news greeted
by Rob with muffled violent utterances involving all key biblical
figures.

The weather forecast suggests we may have to adjust the sails in 3
days, we will keep you updated.

It is hot, the water is 31 degrees. Watch the first few minutes of Ray
Winston in "Sexy Beast" to understand this (it is not the sort of niche
film the title suggests)

While there is plenty of honey, some of the milk is a bit off following
rather weak efforts to make yogurt. Lactobacillus fail.

The bananas journeyed for 10 days through woody greenness before
sprinting through the tasty tasty yellow phase in a mere 24 hours and
into the brown. We now battle with the moral dilemmas surrounding
bananasia by drowning.

Tonight may be the end of fresh (ish) meat with the last of the
gammon. We will address the issue after a Tunnocks tea cake.

I remain,

Alistair (the very strong and brave, tending ever more to portly)