Sweeming
Raylah
Jeremy Elsom
Thu 3 Dec 2009 09:33
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Its one of those things you think you should do on
an Atlantic crossing but to have done it two years ago when we first crossed
would have meant ,depending on your view of me, the premature death of a witty
and attractive character with huge potential to still fulfil ,or the timely
death of a boring selfish slob whose potential expired years ago if indeed
it ever existed ,For those were tempestuous times with the beautiful lines
of Maximus(sorry Raylah) crashing and gyrating in the boiling cauldron which
called itself an ocean as Squall after Squall came in over our Port quarter to
slap us around and hose us down.To lower oneself into that briny then would
have been clear suicide for if not already drowned battered exhausted and
hyperthermic, the ability to regain the deck would have indeed been a
mountain(or topside) too far.
But the Atlantic has many moods and yesterday found
us with little wind,an oily rolling but waveless sea and the sails slating in
their tracks.It also found us in water 5 miles deep and 1250 miles from
land,to wit,the mouth of the Amazon River.An ideal time for our mid-Atlantic
swim,pipes up David our suave perfumier,who is usually in a state of piped up as
opposed to the quieter version of piped down.David since moving to Hythe
has acquired Aquatic tendencies which draw him inexorably to any puddle
whatever its temperature for the purpose of complete immersion.Jeremy
,the aforementioned slob/witty character and most importantly skipper urges
caution,more caution and finally paranoia.Why take the risk for surely the
swimmer will lose the boat which has a pleasant tendency to keep moving with or
without sails,have a heart attack,or get eaten by sharks which have already been
attracted by our fishing line.
The youth Simon,to wit,the slobs son puts the
opposing view that the situation is totally benign,the water should be entered
without flotation device by leaping from the third spreaders,then swimming to
the Cape Verdi's to pick up a newspaper and returning to the boat via the Great
Circle Route.The tripartite view is given by Norman,our Welsh
mountaineer/potholer and leviathan winner or the Three Peaks Race. He is of
the view that if the swimmer is wearing a full immersion suit,with
double climbing harness, karabiners,helmet,and 40 metres of Kevlar loop
tape (breaking strain 1,000,000 tons)then all should be well.
In the event we all,except the exceptional Sara who
could not be risked, climb gingerly into the warm and deeply,deeply blue
sea a little apprehensive of what lies beneath ,to be towed by our red
preventer rope gently along, splashing and giggling like babies in there first
bath.The event was recorded on film and lots of shampoo soap and showers
followed.But guilt soon sets in ,there was a race to be run and we were are
in the chasing pack for Podium Silver,so sails were set,halyards braced and
we bore away for St Lucia,our ambition to swim mid Atlantic
realised.
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