Fai Tira Blog 16.00 UTC  Friday 20th November

Fai Tira in the Atlantic.    21:51.76N 28:26.90W

We are now in our ninth day at sea, bit of a mile stone as we’ve now passed the longest continuous passage that either of us have done and still only just coming up to a third of the distance. We have about 230 miles to go before reaching the 20 degree parallel, the point at which we turn right. Funnily enough, for me, it’s then that the crossing will really seem to be underway. We estimate that this will happen on about Sunday.

The early morning roll call and subsequent radio chats reveal, surprisingly, that we’re still towards the front of the fleet. Although when we hear that some of the bigger boats are making 8 knots over the ground in just12 knots of wind, we know that will change fairly soon.

Wednesdays sailing was a taste of what its’ all about, apart from the rollers the seas were slight, the sun very warm and with 10-15 knots of north easterly wind and us making 5-6 knots, things were really good. The cruising chute worked well and we made good speed. It was so enjoyable that we left it up for as long as we could before dropping it late in the evening and setting the boat up for the night time sailing in goose wing configuration.

I suppose one of the outstanding burning questions (excuse the pun) is, how did the bread go? Well, it was surprisingly good. Okay it was a bit burnt, but I had the pleasing satisfaction of watching this lump of dough I’d managed to create and pummel into submission (alright I know I only added water) double in size in the heat of the sun drenched aft deck before emerging, a little more black than it should have been, from the oven and on to our table for the evening meal.

The watch handover, from Pete at 2am was brief. The wind was still in the same direction and for the most part managing to keep the sails full. All the horizons were empty and there was a DVD set up in the computer on deck if I wanted to indulge.

Although something that wouldn’t normally appeal, the thought of giving the first two hours of watch a bit of a shove to disappear was enough temptation to entice me, and I found myself watching something called Bucket List quite bizarre sat out in the Atlantic watching a film. The odd thing was that when it finished, although it achieved the prime objective of helping time pass, I couldn’t dismiss the feeling that something, out of place, had intruded in to my night and I found myself quickly gathering up the wires, removing the DVD, picking up the lap top and returning it to its’ allotted place, before once more settling into another tranquil night of star gazing that just seem to get better with the additional treat of seeing the longest tail to a shooting star that I can remember.

During the night the Atlantic rollers almost disappeared. And the clear skies of daybreak heralded the start of another calm, sunny and hot day. During the night the wind strength varied but the direction remained constant. The forecasts stayed favourable and the pressure high. From the start we decided to hoist as much canvas as we could. So in addition to having the main and genoa goose winged, up went the cruising chute. Even with all that sail, with the winds remaining light, we just had to settle for a relaxed day trundling along at  about 4-5 knots.

Dolphins came to say hello, but didn’t stay. I took out the guitar again and tried tinkering around with the few cords that I know, but my audience of one didn’t seem that impressed, so back in its bag it went. Apart from the radio chats with the other crews, that was about it.

The sun was now quite low in the sky and as we settled down to our evening meal and to discuss the overnight sail configuration, we saw that the cruising chute had embarked on a love affair with the genoa, wrapping itself round the forestay. By the time we reached the bow the marital knot was well and truly tied. The light was fading rapidly and all the huffing and puffing, rope pulling and careful deliberations had no effect. It just refused to unravel.

So after a long period of peaceful sailing, we were forced to resort to diesel power again and use the night to hatch a cunning plan to resolve the problem in daylight

The nights continue to perform their magic, although the same feelings of fatigue try to drag my eyelids shut as the hours pass by.

Apart from reading, it’s a period when I can reflect and up-date my journal. This particular entry was about the distant disjointed voices that both Pete and I have heard on board. No doubt they all have logical explanations. The murmur of the movement of the boat, the moaning as the lines stretched, the squeak of the friction on the shackles. All very plausible, but when combined with the sensation experienced independently by both Dee and myself, of being tapped on the shoulder while sitting in identical places at different times, starts to make you think.

 I’d mentioned this to Ian, off Lucy Alice. His reaction, a bit tongue in cheek I know, was that it was the good spirits of ancient mariners. Nice thought though.

So there I was in the early hours, far out into the Atlantic, very much alone, having deep meditative thoughts about spirits, haunting and spirituality, when suddenly I had, a very real, wet slap on the face that had me leaping to my feet and wondering just what on earth, or otherwise, was going on. There was also a fluttering noise. I followed the source and at the end of it discovered a flying fish. Some wake up.

It wasn’t too difficult to work out what was the first task this morning. We were both out on deck at about 7.30, we had a sail to unwrap and recover. We’d worked out that it meant a trip up the forestay, so armed with ropes, cleats and bosuns chair, we hooked ourselves on and went up front. Pete was going up and I was doing the hoisting and sail twisting to keep the wind out. So with Pete dangling from a piece of string, loads of effort and lots of untangling of ropes the offending kite dropped (although it wasn’t quite that simple). The rest of the day, apart from Pete transferring the fuel from the jerry cans into the main tanks, was  spent just recovering.  

Bye for now.

Pete and John