Day 14 - Fair winds, strong winds
Sawsealady
David Moore
Sat 9 Dec 2006 12:45
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17:47N 46:09W
Day 14 - Fair winds,
strong winds
Sleep is priceless!
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Shiver me timbers and avast, ye land-lubbers!
After all the yotty/yotting blogs with unintelligible
yotty babble (aka unintelligible technical jargon), 'tis time someone explained
this madness! (And to explain, you need the sanity of another land-lubber
- like wot I iz! Daily I live in fear of discovery!)
After the factories finish moulding your plastic baths,
they knock off a few hulls, a few cabin tops, stick them together and say
"yacht"! That will be a few hundred thousand pounds, please.
Now - at first glance such yachts might strike you as more
suitable for a trip on The Serpentine or a jolly on The Norfolk Broads .... But,
no! Some 1,200 brave souls (and brave they are, make no mistake!!!) have
taken 233 such yachts and set off in them to sail 3,500 miles across The
Cruel Sea - namely The North Atlantic Ocean.
In spite of whale strike, mobbing by dolphins, and
invasion by flying fish, it is westwards they sail! The plucky little
fleet. (Cue "Hearts of Oak" and the playing of "Land of Hope &
Glory").
Masts fall down; crews mutiny; computer systems fail;
skippers have nervous breakdowns; helmsmen are scalded; sails tear and
auto-pilots break down. Those who avoid such vicissitudes and tribulations
steadily plough their way westwards, ever westwards towards the Caribbean island
of Sainte Lucia. As I write, the first to finish are already in paradise (in
this context paradise comprises freshwater showers, fresh food and a full nights
sleep!!!). Those who have suffered such vicissitudes and tribulations .... well,
likely they will endure a Christmas to remember!
Manning such craft is hard! And made the harder by
the lack of washing/bathing/showering (Sainte Lucia will smell us before they
see us! Yuck!) and the need to cook in a space in which no self respecting cat
would swing! All carried out in a work environment with wet and slippery
floors, swings and tilts through 60 degrees, and, bounces up and down 15 to
25 feet or more.
Meanwhile, aboard our yacht circumstances deteriorate and
prospects worsen by the day. Our skipper has dark moods, and has taken to
prowling the decks muttering about Captains Queeg and Bligh. Worryingly,
he wears a t-shirt emblazoned:
"THE FLOGGINGS WILL CONTINUE UNTIL MORALE IMPROVES"
But worse: he now threats to play his
saxaphone!
The salt pork and ships' biscuit are plentiful. The
water runs short!
No matter the watch, 7 minutes after turning in and going
to sleep, the cry is "All hands on deck!" to wear ship, or shorten or make
more sail, or drop sails and hove to as yet another squall looms and
threatens. Repeated at irregular intervals throughout the night! We
merely await the arrival of Mel Gibson and the call "All ship's company assemble
to witness punishment" before to realise we are actually on a Hollywood
set!
And we do this for FUN?
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Gold, diamonds perhaps - but sleep is
priceless!
PETER
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