Day 10 Atlantic Crossing

Sarah Grace goes to sea
Chris Yerbury and Sophy White
Fri 16 Dec 2005 14:15
Day 10 Atlantic Crossing, position 13'N 42'W, December 16th 2005
Sailing very gently along with a spinnacker up, if you add the northern equatorial current to our speed we are making a respectable 5 knots.   Cloudy and not so hot today thank goodness.  We have logged over 1000 nautical miles so far, and our log has tripped to '0' again.  Sighted our first yacht since leaving the Cape Verdes, off the starboard bow.  Didn't manage to make radio contact.
We are sailing through a sea infested with flying fish.   In the daylight they can see the boat, and avoid it, but at night, even in full moon, they arrive.   It being dark, your ears tell you all you need to know.
THUMP = flying fish hitting the hull and bouncing off.
THUMP flicketty flicketty thumpetty flicketty = flying fish has hit the boat and landed on the deck.
THUMP FLICKETTY FLICKETTY FLICKETTY FLICKETTY = flying fish has flown through hatch or porthole and hit bed/floor in cabin.
THWACK ARRRRGHHHHHHH =  direct hit on person.
Otti has worked out that we need to put the mosquito screens up to keep them out.
Once they have boarded the next move is to shout,'STEVE!!!!!!', who dosen't mind grabbing them.  His comment, 'They are very lively.  It's like trying to grab a wiggling bar of soap'.
They leave behing a concentrated fish market smell, which however much you clean up, gives off a metallic hint of fish.  Eau de flying fish: YUCK.   I am becoming increasingly twitchy at night, and have developed flying fishanoia.
You can imagine my delight when a French skipper proudly gave me a carrier bag full of frozen ungutted flying fish, saying,'Here, have these, I haven't tried them, but they are meant to be a delicacy (yeah, in Tobago)'.   Thanks pal.
So  Steve, who seems to thrive on gutting fish, sorts them out.  They are tricky to cook with fins and wings sticking out everywhere.   We had a half- hearted go at eating them.  But Chris and Steve are brave men, and doggedly chomped them up.  I had one bite, whcih tasted like dried sardine laced with a myriad of fine bones like fishing line, and gave up.
I wish they would stay in the sea. 
Lunch: Bread and bits,  supper:  pasta followed by Jelly (for the fifth time)