can we help
+44(0)1983 296060
+1 757-788-8872
tell me moreJoin a rally

Menu

Asante - Day 3 of the never ending poem



I was wondering what I’d talk about, at the end of our day three. But, dear readers, rest assured no shortage as you’ll see. It all kicked off in the dead of night, as I sat alone looking out. Radar showing little boats, as they trundled all about. Nothing there to worry me when suddenly from the blue. A great pink splodge on the radar screen. This was something new. 2 miles out and dead ahead. Too big to be a wave. I roused the skipper and said please come. I need more eyes to gaze. Soon through the mist that had dropped around, a small ship we could now see. Strange lights upon its fore deck gave concern to Ian and me. With talk of dangerous migrant boats we did not hang around. Turning engines on we sped away Carribean bound. But our troubles were not over. Bear with me and you’ll see. Life aboard a sailing yacht can challenge Ian and me. As daylight broke, the time had come, to turn the gen set on. Asante is a hungry girl. Charge batteries or they are gone. But oh dear me, ‘‘twas quite a shock. It spluttered and it died. And though we can get by without, no showers I could have cried. For our generator is the beast, the water maker needs, to fill our tanks for a clean crew, for the showers and sink it feeds. So Ian, James and Nick the crew. They huddled all around. They pocked and prodded. They knew their stuff so soon the problem found. But the day was not yet over. One more story I have to tell. A wonderful sight, of minkie whales, lounging in the swell.


image0

Previous | Next