Neptune unleashes his minions
A year afloat: to the Caribbean and back
Sam and Alex Fortescue
Mon 25 Jul 2011 17:24
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39:28.04N
044:59.56W
It seems impossible that things will ever return to
their pleasant, ordered state of staying where one puts them. We've been under
way for nearly nine days now, and for the past four of those, we have been
tossed on big ocean going waves and scoured by a solid 20 to 25 knots of wind. A
new ingredient was added to this recipe for constant motion last night,
when a series of dismal looking clouds crept up astern and peppered us
with rain all through the night. They saved their particular ire for my watch,
between 4 and 7am, when the intensity of rain smoothed out the waves to the
texture of creases in satin, and the surface of the sea grew fuzzy and
indistinct with the haze of bouncing raindrops.
I got soaked. And it didn't help that I'd pulled a
schoolboy sailing blunder out of the hat just before bed. In an attempt to air
the stuffy confines below deck, I'd inched open the fo'c'sle hatch during a
quiet spell. Of course, Neptune saw his chance, and sent a phalanx of seawater
over the deck, soaking me and the sheets on the bed. Rule number one: don't open
the hatches at sea.
The day passed in the usual flurry of wildlife,
eating, reading and snoozing. Elise pioneered a daring new hairwashing technique
in the cockpit after lunch. This consisted of kneeling over a bucket of
saltwater and plunging her head in. As she commented afterwards, it was a shame
she'd forgotten to close her eyes. Still, it seemed to work.
In other news, I've finished the book 'Too Big to
Fail' about the collapse of Wall Street. I have concluded that everyone is to
blame, from mortgage buyers to CEOs, but with particular emphasis on the blind
risk taking of the people taking home tens of millions of dollars in bonus every
year. Long may they stew in their costly mansions as they reflect ruefully over
yet another round of golf or skiing holiday in Colorado. Strangely, old Gordo
comes out of it looking reasonably decisive.
Minds are inevitably turning towards the Azores and
to home. We're provisionally planning to see three of the islands, viz Flores,
Faial and Pico. They're said to be very different in character, boasting among
other things, volcanoes, sulphur springs, masses of wildflowers, white cottages,
excellent white wine, fine cheese and the various trappings of European
civilisation that we haven't seen since the Canaries. I for one am eagerly
looking forward to a squid supper - my first in eight months.
We're still about 2,000 miles from the safety of
our mooring in Poole Harbour. But it is an excitement almost too big to
comprehend to be returning to home shores to see Mission Control in Dorset,
family and friends again. It suddenly feels that we've been away for many
years...
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