Fai Tira Blog 16.00 UTC  Tuesday 24th November

Fai Tira in mid Atlantic.   19:40.70N 39:00.00W

We’ve now passed the halfway point and at last we’re getting nearer to land instead of further away, bit like an aeroplane pilot reaching rotation, no going back now.

The shortest way back, is forward (I knew the Irish in me had to come out eventually) Anyhow I’m sure you know what I mean.

The isolation continues. Six days now since we’ve seen another boat. Last night I did see the flashing lights of an aeroplane during its’ silent passage of flirtation with the stars.

I found myself imagining I was on board gazing down into this vast dark emptiness and spotting the single light that was bobbing around way below. Such a strange transposition, it’s something that I’ve found myself doing many times in the past, this time it’s me looking up from down where the light is, on Fai Tira!!

The early morning chafe checks revealed that the cruising chute wrap around had cost us. Just about eight feet up from the tack, on the genoa, was the ominous orange tell tail of the contact. And right alongside it the fraid edges and vertical tear about six inches long.

 At about this time that Pete started to have second thoughts about the value of my recent Art Foundation Course and I had cause to remember and thank Pierre the owner of AM PM at Tackley. They were the great bunch who helped me, with some printing for the exhibition, for my Final Major project.

When Pierre heard of this trip he produced a huge roll of Dacron, an adhesive backed synthetic material, that was redundant to him. He graciously said I could take in case of sail repairs. How invaluable was that?

So our next slightly precarious trip up front saw me in life jacket and harness hooked on and perched on the rails. With Pete, also hooked on, supporting while I effected the repair.

Yesterday was also the occurrence of another momentous event, also some useless but interesting information.

Our journey west is continually recorded on our chart plotter, a piece of satellite technology that constantly up-dates our position. It relies on software dividing the world into sectors. We have now just moved from the sector for Western Europe, to the one incorporating the Americas. Now doesn’t that sound romantic.

Pete has just informed me that there is 5775 metres of water beneath our keel, and also that we’ve just passed the 36^th degree of longitude, so we’ve sailed one tenth of the way round the world, of course that assumes that we started from Greenwich, we didn’t. Anyway both scary and impressive!

If the nights are about the stars, then the day has to be all about the sea, with the bow spit of Fia tira the best viewing platform around. For the last couple of days we’ve been treated to some spectacular displays of power, grace and at times shear breathtaking scale.

Our 22 tons of steel floating home, has been swept along, swayed, lifted dropped and catapulted with an ease that simply confirms our insignificance, with the elegant movement and wave shape appearing almost balletic. The scale can best be illustrated by the description of Pete and I sitting on the Bow, with our feet at times submerged up to our knees, then in the next instance dangling we’d be 30 feet in the air.

To-day was very much about sail experimentation. Over night the winds dropped to 5-10 knots right on our stern. It became difficult to maintain course, the sails were starting to flogg and our speed became much reduced.

Our success with the spinnaker had been limited to say the least. Problems getting it up, problems flying it and major problems with the snuffer, but these were the ideal conditions and the pole was already out on the right side, from flying the genoa. So we gave it a go. We had about half an hour before the morning roll call and guess what, it all went as smooth as silk.Hoisted it, flew it all day making 5-6 knots with the Hydrovain working away merrily, and popped it straight back into the snuffer. Colin you’d have been proud of us!!,

Now try and visualise this. An isolated yacht in mid Atlantic, sails billowing out in front and the wind whipping up the seas. It’s been a hot day but now the suns softly setting into a clear purple and yellow horizon. It’s Late November. Two, now fairly lean, old farts in just t shirts and shorts are stood on the aft deck. Hanging on to the bimini they peer out over the spray hood.

Holst’s Jupiter from the planets erupts from the deck speakers to an audience of just two. The Atlantic rollers queue up behind ready to launch them and they whoop and holler as the boat leaps from the top, juddering as it accelerates down the face.

In just that instant they’re about thirty five years old and even desirable.

They’re isolated, individual, independent, exclusive and on the edge, very close to nature with a world of experiences waiting round the corner.

Oh yes, that question. Why are we doing this?

 Haven’t a clue!!!

Pete and John would like to wish Pete’s Dad Horace a very Happy Birthday on Thursday.  Pete is missing him and hopes he has a nice time down the DA with his mates.  Ian could you do the business again for me and get one in!!!!   

We look forward to seeing you in Antigua.  Don’t forget it’s your round.    

.

Bye for now.

Pete and John