Windy everywhere
Position 41 13.9N 13 21.7W Monday
8th June Plymouth 667 miles Well,
the wind veered as planned, and we turned north. At last – for the first time
since starting nearly six weeks ago, Irie’s heading for Plymouth. It’s a
pretty lumpy night with some exciting sailing. The wind never drops below force
seven, and frequently gusts up to 40 knots or more – gale eight defined as 34-40
knots. Through the night the sea state builds from moderate to occasionally
rough, or waves of four to six metres in height. In fact the boat takes it all
in her stride, well reefed down with half the mainsail and a scrap of genoa to
steady her and the speed over the ground is quite sedate. The really big waves
come in bunches of three or four, tops just breaking white in the moonlight, or
looming darkly over your shoulder. Down below it’s a bit lively, but tiredness
eventually overcomes the noise and rolling, and Morpheus delivers a couple of
hours of slightly fitful sleep. The next phase of the plan is to keep heading
for Plymouth, but much will depend on the weather, as it’s rather instable for
the time of year, with unexpected lows popping up all over the place. No knot of
the day or saying so far, though some wit in the readership suggested ‘Spur
Lash’, searched in the book, but nothing till the follow up e-mail suggested
saying it with the words rolled together - damn their eyes! Nearly as bad as the
French Navy’s motto – ‘To the sea, it is the hour’, or ‘A l’eau, c’est l’heure’
(apols). Now what’s for dinner – Oh, chorizo and beans again, and the third day
running means probably now building to force nine with a severe
swell. |