Now trundling gently through the Western Med (the Alboran Sea) towards Gibraltar, where we had hoped to be a couple of weeks ago. It is hard to imagine, in this flat calm and watery sunshine, that only a few days ago there were 45knot winds and 5 metre seas right here.
The Sierra Nevada to our starboard are heavy with snow, jutting up behind the fleshpots of the Costa del Sol (although there is probably not much actual flesh on view at this time of year). The boat is behaving herself, as is the crew – no mutinies so far. The catering committee (Judy and Gregor) have not yet poisoned anyone.
Barf News – actually there is no barf news as yet, on account of me self-medicating with scopolamine slow-release transdermal patches. We have had some rough stuff but no nasties on the digestion front – at any rate, so far. The downside is that the patch is sported just below the ear, and makes me look as though I am under the control of some alien being.
We are running watches of 2hr standby (snooze in saloon with gear on) , 2 hrs on watch and 4 hrs off. It works brilliantly.
In Moraira we were exactly on the Greenwich meridian. As of now we are at about 2 deg 30 min W, which is progress.
Pip pip - I am off to assemble a salad Nicoise for the hungry crew and the HB Eggs are just about done. G