It begins (or at least we hope it does)...Like many a good yarn, our story begins with a truly multi-national lineup, however, there are a few more of us than the jokes typically involve. We are in fact at least two, probably even three jokes' worth: an Italian and a Frenchwoman, an American and two Germans, and last, but not in the least bit least, (did you hear the one about the...) three Englishmen.
What's more, in our case, we all meet for the first timefrom our four corners, not in the ubiquitous bar or pub (and there are plenty here on our little Las Palmas strip), but on pontoon S17 in Muella Deportiva marina. On board a royal blue 46ft Swan Yacht called Milanto.Seven carnivores and one vegetarian; one woman and seven men; six IT geeks, and two relative luddites; two seasoned Atlantic racers and sixocean going virgins...whichever way you count us, we are a boatful of eight very keen and (on my part at least) extremely excited sailors, brought together for (and imagine here, if you will, the majestic run of violins...) an epic adventure on the high seas.
For those of a nervous disposition, rest easy, you can safely assume weare in good hands with our skipper Valerio and his first mate Keith. Safety is their mantra, and between them they have more nautical miles beneath their collective belt than a message in a bottle.
Having grown-ups with their 'seadog' level of experience in charge, affords the remaining six of us to be more than relaxed enough to have a few quiet hopes and dreams for our journey. For me I'm simply looking forward to sailing along under the stars; I'd like a whale or two in view at somepoint, and of course I'm rather hoping not to fall in.
We will, no doubt, be sharing each other's thoughts and swapping stories in thecoming days and yes, rest assured, we will report back in due course. We step on board here from Spanish soil and back on dry land again inthe Caribbean, with 2,900 odd watery miles in between. A downwind race against fierce competition; this is a race after all and there are 235other boats to beat (in fact just 32 of us are actually racing, so the odds are slightly lessened, the others there for the ride...). With our sails akimbo, we will take turns at the wheel, be on watch day and night, and feast on what the sea gives up (supplemented of course withwhat Valerio has bought from Las Palmas' various markets and stashed away in every nook and cranny...).
We hope our voyage will take around 17 days, but the boat's auto pilot and engine are forbidden territory (to even look at them risks a keel hauling), so we are at the mercy of the trade winds and will arrive when they see fit (Milanto's record is amagnificent 14 day sprint).
The weather, as I type, is set to be a little unpredictable, with a sharp squally spell coming through at the time we are due to set sail, and, crucially for us sailors, in totally the wrong direction. There is talk of delaying the start for a few hours, maybe even a day, but at the moment we are still due to set off tomorrow (Sunday 25th) at around 1pm. So whenever we start, ahead (eventually) lies rum and sand, and beforethat, well lots and lots of salt water. But, and in the words of thegreat Arnold (Arnie) Schwarzenegger, 'We'll be back!'
Hasta la vista baby...