Fai Tira Blog 1400 UTC  30th October

Fai Tira in Lanzarote.    28:54.97N 13:42.54W

We’ve just completed our fourth night at sea. We’ve been told that it becomes easier as your body adapts to the new changes of sleeping pattern. I expect that’s true, but I also expect it’s inevitable that each of us will react individually. It’s still relatively early days for us, at the moment. The long passages are yet to come and, at times, I still find myself struggling to remain alert, a bit like being over tired on the motorway with eyelids that just refuse to do as they’re told.

We’re still messing around with the length of watches a bit and listening, with interest, to others about what suits them. At the moment we’re working a minimum of three on and three off, but trying to build in some flexibility that allows the on guy to extend it if he feels ok. This should have the effect of giving him a longer reciprocal break.

Sometimes the nights quite flash by. Last night emerged out of the hatch, from below, to be met by a warm soft evening illuminated by a moon almost bright enough that it would allow you to read a book, its’ reflected light constantly changing in the gentle ripples of a mirror like sea.

I could make out the navigation lights of the yacht Briet, about two miles off the port beam and those of Bali Blue to starboard, all other horizons were clear. I found myself fairly overwhelmed and just stood there gazing about me, beneath a star filled sky that had little trouble competing with the light of the moon. Nearly two hours later I’d hardly moved. This was powerful stuff, I found myself experiencing an array of feelings, with my mind bombarded by deep thoughts, but it was the spiritual sensation that held the greatest impact and just wouldn’t be ignored. How could anyone look on such a scene and not come up with some sort of profound conclusion?

Already we’ve been given a taste of what to expect during the first big crossing, with the Atlantic producing a scaled down version of its’ notorious rollers. Even the small ones are spectacular, winding up from a long way off, with a following trough deep enough to conceal a double decker bus.

We’re coming up to the fifth day of travelling across this vast wilderness and yet the fascination and sense of anticipation at what might next occur, is as strong as ever.

What an amazing environment. The only thing consistent is that it’s wet. Almost everything else seems to be in a constant state of change.

The colour, to-day the depth of blue was quite striking.

It’s surface texture, obviously always moving, but taking on vastly different forms, one day looking just like ripples in a sheet of glass with the distorted reflections of clouds and sky weaving their way into the distance and the next, in a completely different mood, it seems to express its’ irritation by trying to sling off all those intruders venturing on to it. Unleashing a ferocious furry that has its’ skin heaving in anger. And then just about every conceivable variation between.

The isolation feels huge and the earth massive. Then a plastic bottle comes floating by. What are we doing!!?

Yesterday we saw turtles, other boats have reported seeing whales, both dead and alive, This morning, shortly after breakfast, Pete shouted to say that we had dolphins for company, I stuck my head out to see two of these graceful animals gliding alongside us. It was my turn to occupy the bowsprit and I perched myself right on the edge at the front with my lanky legs dangling inches from the water. Within a short period the message must have gone out, that this was a boat worth following (must have been the sight of my feet) Seemed like the whole dolphin population for miles had turned out for a laugh, and we were surrounded by more than you could shake a stick at. We reckoned a bunch (ok ok pod) of about 50 plus. These were different from those of our last encounter, with dappled speckles on their backs, I’m not good at identification, but if there was such a thing as lesser spotted dolphins, these would be them.

They stayed and provided entertainment for almost an hour, with me trying to extend my legs and sliding ever nearer to the water, then it happened, I actually made contact, as they rode the bow wave just glancing the ball of my foot, what a thrill!!, trouble now is I’m experiencing pangs of guilt at the prospect of being the first person to inflict athletes fin on the dolphin population of the Atlantic

The last leg of the sail (or should I say motor) was uneventful, apart from seeing the odd shark. I spotted a fast moving black fin slicing through the waves. Pete looked up and saw the white tipped tail fin following, and to think we were tempted to park the boat and go swimming yesterday mmm!!!.

The spectacular volcanic coastline of Lanzarote came into view at first light. As we neared the wind picked up. We’d left the cruising shoot out ready for just this occasion, so up it went (poled out) and with the main goose winged, we flew along the approaches at nearly 7 knots.

Sailing at last!!.

Photos of the last 6 days.

                The BWR crews with John and Pete on the left.                                                                 The boats all dressed with flags.                                                                Bob and Sue who came to Gib to see us off.

                                                Before the OFF                                                                                                                 Big ship causes havoc.                                                                                    But we can try and miss it.

                                Blue Fin Tuna. Delicious                                                                                                 Dolphins.  They like Tuna to.                                                                       Sunset on the first night.

                                Cruising Shute                                                                                                                   Calm seas.                                                                                                           Atlantic mill pond.

Bye for now. 

Pete and John

Regards Pete.