The there were four... and a half
A year afloat: to the Caribbean and back
Sam and Alex Fortescue
Sat 20 Nov 2010 10:30
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The crew has mustered, the sherry is stowed and the
sails are back onboard. In other words, we're ready to be off. Will arrived on
Wednesday in time to hit the main ARC party of the fortnight, dressed in what is
fast becoming his trademark Hawaiian shirt. We've all been fearsomely busy
stowing, figuring out last minute amendments to safety systems and trying to
make things a bit more comfortable down below.
Will has happily taken to the stern cabin, like a
grass snake to a mouse hole. He is able to arrange himself such that his toes
barely protrude from the bottom of the berth. He is also probably the best
insulated, tucked beneath the cockpit. Graham has taken up residence on the main
saloon, in the berth over the second water tank. Being a very full
but flexible tank, this bunk has been transformed into something of a water
bed, wobbling about on top of 100 litres of grade A desalinated
seawater.
Alex and I are sticking with the fo'c'sle in a move
that has shocked our French neighbours. Not only do they predict grave
discomfort as we pitch to and fro in the swell, but they warn that putting so
much weight at the front of the boat will slow us down. If we were all to hot
bed in the cockpit, we could probably shave minutes off our total crossing
time.
The somewhat errant sailmaker has finally returned
our bimini frame, which now needs fixing to the cockpit. This crucial bit of kit
is designed to string canvas from, to shade the cockpit and prevent us all from
overheating. We will still burn from all the reflected rays, but at least we
won't all go mad after ten days with the heat beating down on our heads - Graham
is particularly susceptible to this, but once scurvy sets in halfway across and
we all begin losing hair, we'll all be at risk...
We haven't yet been told where the start line is,
but it seems likely to be a melee due to forecast very light winds. It'll be 9
knots, gusting 10 knots tomorrow, falling gently away over the next week. there
is little danger of a repeat of last year's very rapid ARC. I've been
speculating about activities to keep us amused if we have to spend time bobbing
around waiting for wind. I thought a three mile fishing line for jigging mid
Atlantic could be fun - I've never tasted Angler fish. Failing that, we could
ship some more matchsticks to get a serious poker circle going.
We had a blow out supper with Mission Control last
night in the rather swanky surroundings of the Real Club Nautico - a sailing
club on the harbour wall. We took the waiter's recommendation to get into the
catch of the day, which turned out to be a fearsomely-toothed, but excellently
flavoured local beast.
I suppose I should get back to the pontoon, where
we should now have taken delivery of a month's worth of bananas, tomatoes and
cabbages. Alex had to order from the greengrocer in Spanish, so it will be
interesting to see whether her recollection of food terms from Spanish lessons
15 years ago matches up with reality.
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