First signs of civilisation, steaming up astern
A year afloat: to the Caribbean and back
Sam and Alex Fortescue
Wed 27 Jul 2011 15:44
|
39:15.33N
039:45.38W
A much needed tranquil night, dear reader, has
allowed us all to reclaim lost sleep. Summer Song buzzed along at about five
knots for most of the day yesterday and much of the night, with occasional
speedier spells. The wind has dropped about 10 knots, and with it the high
impetuous seas we've become accustomed to. But the breeze has so far resisted
veering into the west, as it is forecast to do. This is good news for us, as it
means sailing on a broad reach, with the wind about 45 degrees off the stern,
giving us more options for sail setting.
At present, the fearsome but little used spinnakoo
is billowing aloft, and looking hellish fine. It is a rare moment of hand
steering - the Hydrovane self steering having been used almost continuously
since we left Newport. Much more so, in fact, than during our southern crossing
to the Caribbean last year. We're all taking a little time to get used to the
tiller again, particularly as it is a ticklish job keeping the chute
filled.
As we get closer to the Azores, we get further into
the great ridge of high pressure that usually sits over the islands. That means
falling winds and we are likely to have to motor the last hundred miles or so -
at least if we fancy doing better than half a knot in the current. We are now
within motoring range of Flores, since we have aboard about 400 miles of diesel.
But every hour we can sail is an hour of donking saved.
It rained repeatedly yesterday morning, allowing us
all fresh water showers. We took it in turns to scrub away in the cockpit, while
the rest of us hunkered down below in the dry. Then things cleared in the
afternoon, allowing the historic second meeting of the Mid Atlantic Scrabble
Circle. With a few decisive moves, Elise took the game out of our hands and
ended up beating everyone by about 40 points. Her piece de resistance was, as I
recall, 'haze' with the zed on a triple letter score and the whole on a double
worder.
In other news, we failed to catch a fish yesterday,
for the eighth day on the trot; this despite some promising nibbles on the hook.
But we were compensated with a large pod of dolphins, who cruised in to play
around the bow at teatime. They were dolphins of the smaller variety we saw so
many of in Europe, and they seemed to be a kind of fishy creche - with lots of
tiny dolphinlings darting about.
I awoke this morning to the sound of Alex
interrogating someone on the VHF radio. I immediately saw that there must have
been an emergency of some variety, as Alex is always a reluctant radio user.
sure enough, when I bolted on deck, I beheld a huge red trawler wallowing close
off our stern. The reply came back on the radio that the skipper only spoke
Spanish. It's hard to put one over Alex on the language front, and she firmly
announced in the vernacular that we would be running ahead of the trawler -
something he seemed only too happy to permit.
It is an odd feeling running into signs of external
life again after ten days without sighting another vessel. Even more exciting to
think that the other boat is a fellow European, and that we're now closer to the
home continent than to foreign climes.
|