Mission Control, we have Gulf Stream. Repeat...
A year afloat: to the Caribbean and back
Sam and Alex Fortescue
Sun 5 Jun 2011 15:48
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33:51.82N
076:39.34W
If clumps of sargasso weed are the milestones of
the Gulf Stream, then we are at last in the middle of the fast lane. After days
of desultory weed action and precious little sign of a favourable current, we've
had a night with 1.5 knots under the keel and great blankets of weed as far as
the eye can see in the dawn light. This stiff, twiggy yellow stuff looks dense
enough to walk on. Were this the case, you could saunter from here to North
Carolina without more than damp feet (although it would take some time, as
Wilmington is 60 miles away). Mission Control in Dorset - assisted by Jesse, I
understand - supplied the necessary co-ordinates for the Gulf Stream from a
satellite image, allowing us to steer into a better spot. We are awaiting
confirmation that Will is to be airlifted in by the Coastguard off Hatteras to
help us with the last stretch, and to whip up one of his now legendary boat
lunches.
The weed is bad news for fishing - and, as I type,
another great raft has attached itself to the mackerel feathers that Graham has
rigged astern, but it augurs well for progress. We are a little over 150 miles
from Cape Hatteras, which we should see at midday tomorrow. From there, it is
another full day and night of sailing to Norfolk, Virginia - the large naval
port at the mouth of the Chesapeake where we plan to 'arrive' in the
US.
Life onboard continues much as before, with a night
donking through a windless patch. Summer Song bucked and reared quite a lot
under the influence of a queer, short chop, so I didn't sleep well. Double
rations of Alex's excellent Thai green curry could also have contributed to
this, as well as the sugar laden chocolate brownie that I whipped up yesterday
from a packet (just add water, oil and eggs). The sails are now set to a
westerly wind and the engine silent. A gigantic red globe of a sun has just
risen in what the layman and lubber might term a 'shepherd's warning'. Happily
not a sheep or a shepherd in sight, so we shall continue serenely north towards
Hatteras. The only question is whether we'll arrive there before the
wind veers round to an inconvenient northerly quarter, which could also
kick up a nasty, short sea.
News flash: while the skipper and Graham were
snoozing in the mid morning heat, Alex snared a mahi-mahi on the handline. She'd
just pulled the rig in to pull off another clump of weed, and was letting it run
back out when the beast struck, pulling the line from her hand. It was quite a
wrestle to get him from the sea, but in the end he was gaffed and brough aboard
in all his iridescent blue and yellow finery. He weighs in at about 5 pounds and
will make an excellent fish lunch for three. It makes Alex the leading fish
taker on this voyage.
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