Motoring along under wide, empty skies
A year afloat: to the Caribbean and back
Sam and Alex Fortescue
Sun 10 Apr 2011 17:11
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20:33.1N
71:32.5W
We've fixed the engine under way, which is
excellent news. That means we're buzzing along at 5 knots with the donk on, and
have been since about breakfast time. We don't have much choice, because the
wind is remaining at a stubbornly useless 6-7 knots. Were we beating into it,
this would be just about bearable, but on a run, with the wind behind, every
knot of speed you achieve takes a knot away from the wind, so we were wallowing
along at barely 2 knots. Even the spinnakoo, which had performed so valiantly
during daylight hours since we left, was only capable of flapping
listlessly.
We had a glorious sunset yesterday evening. The
spinnaker went up at about 4pm as the wind freshened from nothing to 12 knots
under a belt of cloud. Soon we were slicing through the waves at 7 knots with
the swell from astern lifting the stern so that we surfed along. A big tanker,
the strangely named Antwerp Max, slid up level with us as the sunset,
then gave us a good examination from about quarter of a mile away. Through our
binoculars, we could see a man on her bridge looking at us through his binos. It
felt good to be racing along with the spinnaker up.
On evenings when there are few clouds on the
horizon and clear view of the setting sun, we have begun to look out for the
'green flash'. In addition to being a noted gym shoe, the green flash is
also a optical illusion seen at the moment the sun sinks below the horizon. Some
claim to have seen it, others hope. But last night, just as I was exclaiming
that there had been a clear green tinge to the sun as it finally dropped out of
view, there was a blinding green flash lasting a split second. Two seconds after
disappearing, and while the applause was still loud, it was as if the
sun had sent a spark of green light by way of an encore.
Morale is tolerably high, although sleep
deprivation is taking its toll. We're well found in luxurious left overs, thanks
to los Escapados and Great White, who both unloaded their fridges into Jemima
the dinghy before they left. We have probably too good a supply of beer, wine
and rum for the liking of the Cuban customs department, and are trying to
shorten stocks accordingly. In short, there's nothing to stop us just motoring
on to Cuba, now barely 100 miles west of us. However, we do have to clear in
through an official port of entry, which means prolonging our journey by a few
hundred miles to Cayo Coco, halfway along the north coast. So we're considering
the possibility of a stop somewhere in the Bahamas or the Turks and Caicos to
top up with fuel. Alex is certainly lobbying hard, if only to get a couple of
good nights of sleep. It all depends on what the weather does, so we shall
see...
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