Fai Tira Blog 16.00 UTC  Saturday 28th November

Fai Tira in mid Atlantic.   18:39.99N 48:13.59W

Well I suppose it had to happen eventually, Friday saw the net controller for the day issue the first severe weather warning. The weather system was big. It stretched over North and West co-ordinates that meant it was unavoidable. Within that area were, electric storms, squalls with excessive winds, rough seas and rain. Might get all of it, might get none of it!!

Funnily I was only thinking recently, bit of soft rain wouldn’t go a miss haven’t seen any for ages, and sure to help bring a touch of much needed freshness. You know the sort of thing we all do, from time to time, when we’re on holiday!!.

We’d already had a bit of a prelude.

My previous nights’ watch had started very dark, The moon had already disappeared, as I settled down and acclimatised my vision. The sky was shrouded in hazy cloud, the horizons barely visible and the blackness almost complete. I found myself drifting into long periods of contemplation. My mind was digging deep and it dragged long forgotten memories from the recesses that returned with such visual clarity, I could almost taste them.

I then settled down into my ring side seat to watch the nights’ dazzling light display. Electric storms illuminated the sky, lighting the silhouette of distant clouds and crashed, raged and erupted somewhere over the starboard horizon. Then as light began to force its’ way through, there was a large intense flash of light, on my port side, that exploded high in the sky. It’s brightness so confined that my confused and weary mind, in its quest for an explanation, even considered the possibility of some sort of flare (Ok Ok!! I know we’re in the middle of the Atlantic, but I was tired)

My gaze remained fixed and saw two other bursts, just as high but this time more diffused, confirming another distant storm. How exhilarating to be surrounded by such spectacular drama.

Fai Tiras’ performance continues to raise eyebrows, as she maintains her position at the head of the slower boats, the majority of the fleet. I know that Pete said that we’d received praise from the rally organisers, but what he didn’t say (although he’ll probably find an opportunity in a pub sometime in the future) is that much of this is down to his boat handling skills and reading of weather patterns. I also hope that my contribution, observations and opinions, may in some way, be useful or influential, doubt it somehow!! Although I think, most of the time now, I, more often than not, end up pulling the right piece of string

It was also during the course of Thursday night that I had the pleasure of watching our GPS, the instrument that counts down the miles to go, flick over to 998 from the 999 it had registered since we left Lanzarote, something, I think due to the fact that the poor thing must get confused at the sight of 1000. Now it really does feel like the countdown has begun. Just keep dividing whatever figure it comes up with by about 130 to end up with the number of days left at sea.

One thing we’re not short of on board, is aerobic exercise, with the movement of the boat. However, apart from all the huffing an puffing, for short periods when hoisting sails, sustained cardiovascular stuff is in short supply. So I’ve decide to embark on my own fitness regime of running on the spot for 15 minutes a day,( well night as it happens, I wouldn’t want to look daft in front of everyone now would I), Not as easy as you might think though with the boat rocking and rolling, but I manage it by hanging onto the vertical bimini supports on the spray hood and off I go. Never thought I’d end up jogging across the Atlantic!!.

Aerobic exercises take on a whole new dimension when linked to my adopted roll of cook and I find myself dancing around, grabbing what ever support I can while trying to prepare food. The galley has just one surface that remains flat so the cook has to have the agility of a tightrope walker, gymnast and most of all juggler while trying to open tins, peal chop and slice veg, butter bread, pour drinks, plate up, and at the same time remain in an upright position while stopping it all from being deposited on the floor.

These problems are easily extended to the difficulties encountered when taking a wee. At this stage I’ll try not to be too descriptive. I also realise that this may be more easily understood by one gender than the other.. Firstly finding support is essential, so that means finding something to grab hold of. The lavatory seat needs lifting and holding (does if you’re a gentleman).

It’s then, when confronted with such a relatively small target area ,that It becomes easy to conclude that a really useful asset in the quest to become a competent and efficient sailor, would be being born with three hands!!

Oh yes that storm!!.It all sounded so romantic, the earlier one, I viewed from a distance. How different then the reality.

I was just starting watch at 2am. The boat had been rocking so I knew it was a bit bumpy out there. Pete had briefed me saying he’d got a bit wet in a couple of squalls, that there was lightning in the distant surrounds, and how pleased he was to have seen a freighter, the first boat in about 10 days.

Then as we both emerged from the hatch we were greeted by a blinding flash and crash directly over head, The boat healed over as the winds started to howl. Everything beyond the staunchions’ was pitch black and then blinding white. We were both hooked into the cockpit, washboards in place and hatch down as torrents of rain began to sweep in horizontally, depositing as much water in a minute as any self respecting wave could. As Denise, our wind vane, gave up the unequal struggle, Pete grabbed the wheel and steered into wind. And there I was thinking that I was just going to sit down as usual, have a quiet evening and read my book!!!

That was it then. Pete eventually got off to bed, I got a change of clothes, put on some waterproofs and spent the rest of the night steering.

Because of the storm possibility, we’d talked about lightning strikes and their effects. Petes’ assertion is that we’ll be ok, we’re in a Faraday cage. I can understand that, but feel just a little concerned that I might just be the one on deck at the time of the strike.

And I can’t help thinking about the last place you’d want to be in a storm? I suggest that quite high on the list might just be to find yourself standing in a tin bucket, in a puddle holding a television arial above your head.

Sorry if I don’t sound too convinced!!  

Bye for now.

Pete and John